Securing gear for surf launch?

[Mr. NiceGuy]

A few thoughts come to mind:

I put poles & gaff in one bundle on one side (easier to jump out the other side without things in the way.) I always stow that bundle flat and strapped to my kayak front and back. Put the point protector on your gaff. If you roll and everything flies asunder, you don't want to get gaffed or hooked in the process. Eye patches look cool on pirates, but I don't want one myself. It's a bitch pulling hooks out after they dig in past the barb. If you have a beautiful fish on your kayak you want to keep, tie it down.

If you wear glasses, get a neck strap so you don't lose your glasses in the surf. Tighten the chin strap on your favorite fishing hat, but also consider the possibility of choking on the strap. If you have a knife around your neck, it might be a good idea to put it in a hatch so you don't stab yourself. I had a flight instructor who once crashed upon landing and impaled himself with a ball point pen in his pocket.

If your fish finder is vulnerable, tighten it down flat, or stow it in a hatch.

I cut off old hooks and rigs and stow them in my hatch bucket before I land. Rigs I prepare the night before have foam squares on all the hooks and they are wrapped up within the bundle, or they are in ziploc bags in my hatch bucket ready to tie to the swivels.

I empty my bait tank and if there is any water in my hull I pump that out to avoid unnecessary weight and mass. Lighter is more maneuverable.

If you roll, don't get between your kayak and shore. You don't want to get smashed by your kayak being pushed by a crashing wave. Grab the back back of your kayak to control and straighten it out, not the front. Let the physics work for you rather than against you.

Anything you want to keep should be tied down or stowed inside a hatch. When I land, my paddle is across my lap so I can use it to steer or brake to stay straight. I latch my pedals in the UP position with the bungee, and I pull my rudder up. Since your bait tank is strapped down and empty, you can throw small items in that.

If you are about ready to get broad-sided by a wave, lean into the wave. Hopefully, your kayak will lift and the wave will pass under you. If you let the kayak lean the direction of the wave, it's easy to roll.

Even small waves can have more energy than you expect if you are in an ackward position. Personally, I think it's always better to be prepared even if the landing looks easy.

The results of capsizing in the waves is called a yard sale for good reason


If you haven't seen it yet, check out this thread from about 10 days ago:
http://www.bigwatersedge.com/bwevb/s...ad.php?t=31353

As he suggests from his experience, It's good to carry a wire cutter capable of cutting hooks. It's easier to cut a hook and push it out the other side than to try to back it up.

Watch the surf forecasts for La Jolla Shores. If it's too much for your level of comfort, launch out of Mission Bay or fish in San Diego Bay.

That's all I can think of for now. On a nice day it's pretty easy. I think everyone has crashed at least once. That's part of the learning process.

[jorluivil]

Found it

http://www.kayakfishmag.com/features/team-sewer/

Team Sewer, Seabass And 10-Foot Surf

What could go wrong?

Wednesday, March 5, 2014 // 0 Comments




Team Sewer, Seabass and 10-foot Surf
What could go wrong?
By Tony Park

It’s early, pitch dark at a famous surf beach a few miles west of Malibu. Team Sewer—that’s me, Greg Andrew, Stinky Matt, Roby, and Minh—is chasing a hot rumor. They’re out there, beyond the breakers: broom tails going 50 pounds or even bigger. We are sick with white seabass fever.

The surf is crashing. We can’t see what we’re up against, but I can hear it. It sounds intimidating.

No pain no gain, I figure as Greg and I push off into the darkness. The breakers are big, larger than I imagined, overhead. Wait … wait … paddle like crazy! I take a big one to the face. Straighten out, here comes the next one. SLAM. I’m spitting water and considering a new hobby. I’m starting to doubt we’ll make it when Greg finally crawls past the kill zone.

I turn on my radio to learn if the other guys made it. Not so much. Stinky Matt flipped. Minh broke a paddle and busted on home. Oh well, let’s go fish.


We find the beds of spawning squid, seabass chow. Hook up! It’s a long, skinny snaggle-toothed fish, a barracuda and large for its kind, a log. More follow, stacks of cordwood, but the seabass we hunger for never show.

Buttchaser John paddles up, undaunted. On his first drop, he connects with his namesake, a huge halibut that will later peg a scale at 40 pounds. Scratch one flatty!

Time to go. Surfers are stacked outside, catching rides on huge swells. No pain no gain, again. I’m chasing a giant set toward the beach when my momentum slows. I’m sucked back. A 10-footer rears behind me. Crap!
You can brace into a wave no matter how big, or so they say. I turn broadside and tuck in, leaning as far as I can into the freight train crashing on my head. Everything goes black.

I’m underwater in waders and no lifejacket in huge surf. I can’t touch bottom. Waves pound me one after the other. I’m screwed, but manage to swim up for a breath. An eternity later, I feel sand beneath my feet.

My kayak is there in the slosh, upside down. I’m missing a rod, a Calstar 800M with a Daiwa Saltiga 30T, worth a cool $1,000. Another kayak washes in, with Roby’s bait-tank bobbing behind. Buttchaser John’s kayak follows, topsy-turvy. But not Greg Andrews’. He slides his in perfectly like there’s no surf at all. Back at the truck, we total the damage. An old phone, some rod leashes, a rudder, my Calstar. Team Sewer is out $2,500 in gear. Stupid white seabass.

When it comes to seabass, to this day nothing stops Team Sewer from paddling out—they’ll fish anywhere. They burn with the fever. Author Tony Park readily admits he wouldn’t have swallowed so much seawater if he’d worn his PFD during his crash landing. “Maybe someday I’ll learn my lesson, but not yet,” he says with a laugh.

[TJones]

Originally Posted by jorluivil

Found it

http://www.kayakfishmag.com/features/team-sewer/

Team Sewer, Seabass And 10-Foot Surf

What could go wrong?

Wednesday, March 5, 2014 // 0 Comments




Team Sewer, Seabass and 10-foot Surf
What could go wrong?
By Tony Park

It’s early, pitch dark at a famous surf beach a few miles west of Malibu. Team Sewer—that’s me, Greg Andrew, Stinky Matt, Roby, and Minh—is chasing a hot rumor. They’re out there, beyond the breakers: broom tails going 50 pounds or even bigger. We are sick with white seabass fever.

The surf is crashing. We can’t see what we’re up against, but I can hear it. It sounds intimidating.

No pain no gain, I figure as Greg and I push off into the darkness. The breakers are big, larger than I imagined, overhead. Wait … wait … paddle like crazy! I take a big one to the face. Straighten out, here comes the next one. SLAM. I’m spitting water and considering a new hobby. I’m starting to doubt we’ll make it when Greg finally crawls past the kill zone.

I turn on my radio to learn if the other guys made it. Not so much. Stinky Matt flipped. Minh broke a paddle and busted on home. Oh well, let’s go fish.


We find the beds of spawning squid, seabass chow. Hook up! It’s a long, skinny snaggle-toothed fish, a barracuda and large for its kind, a log. More follow, stacks of cordwood, but the seabass we hunger for never show.

Buttchaser John paddles up, undaunted. On his first drop, he connects with his namesake, a huge halibut that will later peg a scale at 40 pounds. Scratch one flatty!

Time to go. Surfers are stacked outside, catching rides on huge swells. No pain no gain, again. I’m chasing a giant set toward the beach when my momentum slows. I’m sucked back. A 10-footer rears behind me. Crap!
You can brace into a wave no matter how big, or so they say. I turn broadside and tuck in, leaning as far as I can into the freight train crashing on my head. Everything goes black.

I’m underwater in waders and no lifejacket in huge surf. I can’t touch bottom. Waves pound me one after the other. I’m screwed, but manage to swim up for a breath. An eternity later, I feel sand beneath my feet.

My kayak is there in the slosh, upside down. I’m missing a rod, a Calstar 800M with a Daiwa Saltiga 30T, worth a cool $1,000. Another kayak washes in, with Roby’s bait-tank bobbing behind. Buttchaser John’s kayak follows, topsy-turvy. But not Greg Andrews’. He slides his in perfectly like there’s no surf at all. Back at the truck, we total the damage. An old phone, some rod leashes, a rudder, my Calstar. Team Sewer is out $2,500 in gear. Stupid white seabass.

When it comes to seabass, to this day nothing stops Team Sewer from paddling out—they’ll fish anywhere. They burn with the fever. Author Tony Park readily admits he wouldn’t have swallowed so much seawater if he’d worn his PFD during his crash landing. “Maybe someday I’ll learn my lesson, but not yet,” he says with a laugh.

Wish them squid would thicken up over here again.