Giant lingcod, threatening whales and an old friend are subjects of this post. Blood and heartbreak are prevalent themes. Still interested? Then read on.
As the 21-foot Boston Whaler crested sharply down the backside of the wave, I tried to quell a rising sense of vulnerability. Unfortunately, the size of the vessel was the least of my worries. The GPS computer on the boat would turn on and off, leaving us stranded in the middle of the ocean, praying for the computer to reconnect. Pervasive fog surrounded the boat on all sides, giving a sense of isolation. However, these factors only added to the building excitement as the boat neared the GPS coordinate named “lingcod_2”.
But how did I end up on that small boat in the middle of the ocean? I was contacted the day before the trip by an old friend named Francisco. You can check out my other adventures with him here: Rockfish, Lingcod, and Crab abound at the Farallon Islands, Rock-Fishing Cruise: The Farallon Islands, Fishing for Rockfish off the coast. The bottom line is that Francisco helped me foster my passion for fishing during my youth, and is one of the most influential people in my life. So when he invited me fishing for the first time in nearly two years I jumped at the chance. Never mind that it was only with two other people I had never met before in an area that I had never gone out in. I was just excited for the chance to go fishing again.
Back on the boat I dropped my double shrimp fly rig down to the bottom of the ocean. Seconds later, a fish began dancing on the end of my light bass pole. After reeling up through 150 feet of water, I was greeted with two healthy yellows. Placing the smaller one on the top hook I dropped the poor fish down to his inevitable doom. Hopefully, that yellow was going to catch me a lingcod.
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| The 13 pound lingcod |
In hindsight this was a terrible idea. I had 170 feet of line on my bass pole and I was dropping it into 150-155 feet of water with a live yellow rockfish on my hook. But when the tip of the light rod was pulled sharply towards the water I instantly realized my mistake. The lingcod pulled out twenty feet of line before I was able to stop it. I watched in horror at the knot where the braid attached to the metal spool of my reel. With my rod between my legs, left hand gripping the line and right hand cranking furiously I was able to recover zero feet of line. So began the stalemate where neither boy nor lingcod was willing to give an inch. Luckily for me, the lingcod gave in first. After a grueling battle that literally spanned the depth of the ocean, the lingcod was within sight. The net scooped down, the head entered the mesh and seconds later a thirteen pound ling was flopping helplessly on the deck.
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| The twelve lingcod |
Up until this point I had only caught three lingcod in my entire life. Francisco congratulated me as I shakily traded in my bass rod for a heavier blank and a reel with more line capacity. The same shrimp fly rig was attached and another live yellow rockfish was placed onto the top hook. Down went the poor fellow. A couple minutes later the rod was bent over double again.
And once again I had another lingcod at my feet. As I reached behind the gill to pick it up the lingcod thrashed, raking the gill plate across my fingers. Blood instantly welled up across the thin but deep cuts. Pulling on gloves I simply placed it into the fishbox. Putting another rockfish on the line, I dropped the rig down again. And once again I had another lingcod on within a few minutes.
By the time the third lingcod hit the deck, Francisco and his friends were beginning to figure out that live bait was working well. After a quick redistribution of the bait we were all fishing rockfish, and all getting hits. Unfortunately the lingcod were hitchhiking off the rockfish. This meant that they were not actually hooked, and instead were holding onto the back of the rockfish with their razor sharp teeth and refusing to let go. But when they saw the surface they often got scared, releasing their prey and darting back into the azure depths. Luckily for me, I seemed to be getting the lingcod on the trailer hook, giving me a higher catch rate. Eventually Francisco caught three, while his friends caught three total. Believe it or not I caught six lingcod all over 25 inches during the trip. After we limited out on lings we made a couple of drifts, picking up a rockfish or two on every pass. After four hours of fishing, we decided to call it a day and head back.
We ended the day with around 37 rockfish and 12 hefty lingcod. This trip to Half Moon Bay turned out to be the best fishing in my life.
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