We loaded bait at Everingham Brothers receivers October 16, before heading into moderate seas on our way south. The swell and chop increased over the next few days, but going downhill on the new 110-foot stabilized sportfisher Intrepid, we were totally comfortable. We felt a little yaw but no roll as we surfed along.

Next day, after we had our orientation and tackle talks from skipper Dan Nichols and second skipper Kevin Cleary, chartermaster Wayne Martin of Catchy Tackle handed out packages of Catchy 33 jigs, Spinnerhead wahoo bombs, hats and coffee cups. Wayne also donated numerous 26-ounce Spinnerhead wahoo trolling jigs. One of those bagged the only wahoo of the trip for Milo Rivera next day.

We ate like kings during this long trip, with Chef Javier Quintanar and his brother Hector preparing five-star meals and snacks. Javier wowed us with his trademark seafood mountain one afternoon for our snack. We also enjoyed a platter of smoked fish from processor Mario Ghio of Sportsmen’s Seafoods. Mario and Five-Star fish Processing met us at the dock at the end of the trip to cut and wrap, smoke or jerk the catch.

Accurate, Mustad, AFTCO and other sponsors for FishingVideos.com made the trip memorable for our 17 anglers with gift packages that included the 2008 Sportfishing Calendar and assorted hooks and free spoolings of 40, 50 and 60-pound Mustad Ultra Pro Plus line for all aboard. There was also a drawing for some valuable prizes. Ted Crane of Huntington Beach won a new Accurate 870 reel, and Mark Winbigler won a spanking new AFTCO Socorro belt and harness. A donated Mustad Ultra Point 4/0 hook later caught the jackpot fish.

Our first fishing began at the 13 Spot, shortly after Milo bagged that wahoo. Nichols anchored Intrepid, and small tuna and yellowtail showed the eagerness characteristic of the place, known as very productive among long rangers. The 13 is the first of a series of high spots along a 60-mile rise called The Ridge. Big sheephead were biting on the bottom, but at 72 degrees it was a bit too cool for pargo or grouper. A year ago it was 80 there.

The water was green, off-color, but that didn’t inhibit the fierce little tuna and jacks. The five to 20-pounders took flylined sardines and iron jigs like the Catchy 33’s or Salas and Tady iron in four to six-ounce weights. The latest reports indicated the water at Alijos Rocks was dirty and 68 degrees, which prompted the skipper’s choice of fishing down The Ridge.

We came across a pod of sperm whales, more of them than anyone on the boat had ever seen together, maybe 30 or 40. A few were large adults, 50 or more feet long; most of the whales were smaller. They moved very slowly on the surface, spouting forward with low plumes. We were awed by the sight of their black, barrel-shaped heads, but not so much that the anglers didn’t try to fish while they watched. The whales seemed unconcerned by our nearby presence. They looked like they were watching us. Maybe they were resting after a dive, since the species is known to favor squid, and to dive to extreme depths to catch their prey.

Conditions at each high spot grew worse as we pushed south. Little was caught at the next couple of spots, so skipper Nichols elected to keep going to the end. We stopped at Thetis Bank and fished on the high spots there to no avail. Nothing showed on the meters or on the surface. There were a few birds around, but they weren’t doing anything except sitting. We headed for the southern banks, where the best recent catches of yellowfin had been made.

Yellowfin are the staple of the long range fleet, but after an unprecedented year for big fish (almost ten times the normal catch) two seasons ago, tuna fishing has been tougher, and not just for yellowfin. Fishing for cool water tuna (albacore and bluefin) this past summer was also difficult. Many short trips opting to fish yellowtail at Cedros and the Benitos Islands rather than trying to coax visible but reluctant albacore. Bluefin were rarely seen.

After another day’s travel we got to the outer southern banks. We found clean water of 76 to 78 degrees there, with a couple of other boats fishing along a temperature break. The blue water had small amounts of baitfish and pelagic “red crab” in it. We looked at bird school and sparse meter marks for two days. It was breezy, 15 to 18 knots with a six to eight-foot swell and some chop.

We found three schools of tuna under diving terns and shearwaters, but were rewarded with just a few smallish tuna for our efforts. We could see the other boats through our heavy lenses on the forebridge, but they weren’t doing much either, just driving around the area like we were.

There were plenty of marlin around. Everybody seemed to hook two or three stripers, but we weren’t after marlin. The stripers were very good at releasing themselves, although we had to handle at least one fish that ate a trolled Spinnerhead. It swam away as though it was feeling all right. Our next move, said the skipper, would be to the Spud.

We rolled up on the Potato Bank about dark. No life showed on the bottom, according to the down scanning sonar. No life came to the lights, either. Often olive grouper bite at the spot, but not this day. Several hours later the anchor came up and we headed southeast, to see if there were tuna closer to Cabo San Lucas.

We awoke offshore, somewhere between and outside of the Jaime and Golden Gate banks. A huge marlin tournament was going on there, we heard, but we were miles away so as not to interfere. Marlin pestered our trolled jigs some, but we saw no tuna sign. Some boobies accompanied us for several miles as we began to work back to the northwest. They dove after the flying fish we raised.

We came upon some “shark buoys,” two ends of a wadded-up longline. I caught a small dorado there, and we saw more of them, but it didn’t look like the rig had been in the water very long. There were marlin there, too, of course. The clean blue 80-degree water just didn’t seem to be holding tuna.

We cruised along in quiet style. Intrepid rolls so little while underway it’s surprising, especially when the boat’s in the trough. Long bunks and fine sheets and blankets make for a good rest while motoring. The galley is a pleasure, with comfy booth seating, three big flat screen displays, superior coffee makers and soft drinks from a fountain. You can enjoy the expected San Diego long range-style meal service at your table. Showers are large and easy to clean. The rig has five heads for anglers, excellent bait capacity and plenty of tackle space, although the top rack is a bit high for a six-footer to see into a tackle box.

At the end of the day we were back in the zone, at the outside southern banks. Two or three long rangers were there with us, cruising around, looking for some tuna business. We got a couple of fish at a couple of stops, and then finally had some luck.

A large bird school of shearwaters, terns and boobies showed us breaking tuna just before sunset. We rolled up to the head of the event, which was headed into the northwest breeze, and yellowfin charged the boat. Just about everyone who put a sardine out got bit quickly. The drift and the hooked-up tuna pulled most anglers into the upwind stern corner. Numerous fish were lost in tangles and cross-overs, but others came to gaff quickly, because they were 15 to 25-pounders.

Some of the tuna were bigger. That was the good news. The bad news was that no one had a heavy rig in use. Ron Adamson of Gig harbor, WA was fishing with 50-pound line, and got the eventual jackpot-winning 70.8-pound yellowfin during the sunsetter. But there were a few tuna over 100 pounds in that brief bite, and the first one bit on chartermaster Wayne Martin’s 40-pound rig. Wayne tussled with the beast for a while, and then kindly handed it off to rookie long ranger Josh Neff of Arcata.

Josh was in excellent physical shape, and pulled long and hard on the tuna. Over an hour later, we could see it coming up off the bow, when the fish decided to go down the starboard side. It gained line during the move. When Josh had it back to the bow again the tuna, which looked to be 120 pounds or more, was no longer visible. The stalemate was ended when the big yellowfin broke off.

“That was our first real bite,” said skipper Nichols at dinner shortly after. “We can stay here a maximum of two more days, but if we do that we’ll have to straight-line it for home. I think we’ll definitely stay here tomorrow to see if we can do this again; things are finally starting to look right.”

The anglers voted with the skipper. We’d stay another day at least.

In the morning sea conditions were the best of the trip so far, with subsiding swells and fading chop. A few frigate birds were around, and we had a couple of tuna contacts that put fish on the boat, but no bite per se. Late in the morning a bird school got us excited and we got on biting fish again. They were dorado, and they were eager and plentiful.

Everyone was bit all at once again. Hooked fish were jumping everywhere around the rear half of Intrepid.

The bite continued to lunchtime, when we were limited out with six each. Twice during the bite I looked down swell to see the main body of fish, which didn’t come close to the boat. The main school of dorado was about 300 yards long and at least 100 yards across. I couldn’t see how deep it went, but the number of fish there was staggering. They were mostly 10 to 25 pounds.

A single tuna bit during the first part of the dorado melee. It was a 52-pounder that beat up Ben Cambron of San Jose for about an hour. Ben fought his fish back and forth across the stern, and somehow avoided disaster with gyrating dorado time after time. Ben won out in the end, and posed with his tuna, which later won third place.

We fished, drifting in a light, abating breeze through the rest of the long afternoon and had two more tuna schools near the boat. One bunch showed well but didn’t bite at all. Small groups of tuna kept coming up, jumping and giving us brief shows a hundred yards down swell. Anglers resorted to fishing sardines under balloons and squid under the kite. Milo Rivera got his 85-pound tuna on a squid with the fishing kite. A couple of other tuna were hooked and caught on flylined sardines.

A big tuna bit on Jason Winbigler’s sardine. Jason is a firefighter from San Bernadino. His 40-pound outfit was stressed to the max, and the fish took him around the boat at least once. Most of that fight was also on the bow, but during the later stages it went down the starboard side and came up off the port stern corner. He might had got the fish right there, but he was getting tired, and the rig was light for the fish. It went up the port side and back to the bow to sulk, and that’s where it eventually chewed off the line and freed itself.

Saddened a bit by the loss, Jason was able to console himself with the second-place fish at the trip’s end, a 54.6-pounder. He like almost all of the anglers hooked several marlin that day and the day before. The stripers put on some great airborne shows.

Jason’s dad Mark Winbigler, also of San Bernadino, had better luck with his tuna, which was a bit smaller. Mark handled his tuna and got it to gaff, and then posed with the yellowfin cradled in his arms.

As it grew dark that day, we saw no fish and no birds. The breeze died, and we watched the sun slip below the ocean in quiet solitude. No sunsetter today. Skipper Nichols cranked up the Intrepid’s quiet engines and we motored north while enjoying a rack of lamb dinner prepared by the Quintanar brothers.

We got to the 23 Spot next morning. The bottom was paved with red rockfish of a Mexican species that has a reputation for inedibility. When the next long ranger came up behind us we left the spot and went back to the 13 Spot, which was still producing small tuna and yellowtail with great regularity. These willing fish bit on bait and jigs. Many of the larger yellowtail came on yo-yoed iron. By the end of the day most had filled out their limits.

Cedros Island was the next day’s destination. The last of the breeze died as we approached, and the skipper determined that 62-degree dirty water wouldn’t work out, so he pointed the boat westerly, toward the Benitos Islands.

The water had pretty much gone flat greasy calm when we got out there, and it stayed that way for the rest of the trip. We could see a dirty haze on the shore and the horizon that may have been evidence of the fires that were burning in San Diego and Orange Counties. There was a bit of yellowtail action and Jason came up with a ten-pound calico bass, which he released. We left at dusk.

Big ling cod were biting the next day, south of San Martin Island and at a couple of sports just to the north of the volcanic island. Blue whales broached and fluked in the distance. We had time for a couple of hours of rock fishing and headed for the barn.

That last dinner was another great one made by Javier, a tasty lobster-steak combination that sent us to our bunks full to the gills. We docked at Point Loma Sportfishing the next morning at six, sorted the fish, and went home tanned and well-fed. Thanks to the Intrepid for a great ride, superb food, some fishing moments that were hard to get, and some that won’t be forgotten.

Specifically, thanks to Accurate, Mustad, AFTCO and other sponsors for numerous prizes and gifts; and thanks to skipper Dan Nichols, second skipper Kevin Cleary and engineer John Hartwell, crewmen Rick Kelly and Chad Smith. Javier and Hector Quintanar deserve a special mention for incredible cusine.

Intrepid arrived at Pt. Loma Sportfishing October 26 after a ten-day Catchy Tackle trip with 17 anglers. Yellowfin tuna swept the jackpot after skipper Dan Nichols weighed the fish.

Intrepid Winners: A 10-day trip to the southern banks paid off for these anglers.

Ron Adamson of Gig Harbor, WA won first place for a 70.8-pound tuna he bagged with a sardine on a 4/0 Mustad Ultra Point hook. Ron fished with 50-pound line, an Avet reel and a six and a half-foot custom rod.

Jason Winbigler of San Bernadino won second place for a 54.6-pound tuna, and Ben Cambron of San Jose took third place with a 52-pound tuna. Milo Rivera of Riverside joined the winners with his honorable mention fish, an 85-pound yellowfin he caught on the kite.

A day and a half trip aboard the new Intrepid with skipper Danny Nichols showed me and 23 other anglers aboard an awful lot of albacore. That good news was offset a bit by the lack of willing biters. We fished from dawn to dusk, and caught fish at all times of the day, but never very many at once. It was a great day on the water, but that was the downside.

“This is what we’ve been looking at most of the summer,“ said Nichols. “There’s plenty of fish around, but they don’t want to bite. “

The albies could be seen for a long way on seas that were almost calm; just a five or ten-knot breeze and an easy light swell and very minor chop coming out of the northwest. The fish were up on the surface, feeding on small bait that looked like sardines and anchovies. We saw thousands of albacore splashing and tearing around on the meatballs they’d pushed up.

Terns, shearwaters and gulls took full advantage of the action, marking the schools so well it would be hard to miss them. We found other fish on the sonar gear, at ten or 15 fathoms, and got a few of those to rise to the chum, too. We even caught a few of them. At times we had feeding albies within casting distance, but most still wouldn’t bite on our sardines or on the jigs a couple of fishermen tossed at them. We had large and small sardines, but few “tweeners,“ which might have matched the size of the bait the fish were so intently eating.

A hard-to-catch albacore is about to come aboard the newest San Diego long-ranger, the Intrepid.

There were numerous boats in the area. Most had the same experience, repeated all day long. It was exciting to slide up on the schools, and we got enough fish to keep everyone at the rail all day. High man on the boat had five albies, but many of us, including myself, only got one or two. I got mine on 20-pound Mustad Ultra Pro line, with a tippet of 20-pound Seaguar fluorocarbon and a 1/0 ringed Ultra Point hook.

Most of us got one or two fish. John Chisholm, son of Bruce and Eunice Chisholm, both lifetime long rangers, had his son J.P. with him. Each had a single hookup with a fight, but J. P. lost his albie. John got his late in the sunny afternoon. Just before sunset we had a last little flurry of biters.

Nearly all our fish were caught on light line, fluorocarbon leader and small hooks. One angler was using size 2 hooks; about as small as you could get away with on fish of 20 to 35 pounds. If you go to a hook size that’s too small there’s serious risk of losing a larger fish, and there were a few, a very few, bluefin in the schools of jumpers.

Naturally, I located one on my 20-pound outfit. I knew it was a larger fish right away, when it bit and swam back at the boat, going down fast and making the spool on my little 197 Accurate Boss reel hum. Then the fish went across the stern, still diving, and brought several other angler’s lines with it. We got to the corner, and the fish went up the rail, but I had to wait until the deckhands could free me from a half-dozen lines.

When I got loose, the fish had most of my line and was motating hard 30 degrees to port of the bow. I chased him up there, and when I got to the Intrepid’s front end I had maybe 30 wraps of line left on the reel. The drag was about as tight as I could go without breaking the line, so I pointed the rod at the sky overhead, to no avail. Shortly I was down to ten wraps, facing a dilemma: let him take it all, and likely break it off at the reel and maybe kill the fish by dragging it around; or just tighten up a little more and try to turn the fish.

I used my fingers, but couldn’t make him stop. The line went slack. When I reeled in it was broken in the middle of the fluorocarbon leader. I felt glad for the fish to be freed that way. I went to 30-pound line and fluoro next, but the only fish I got with that was a small yellowfin, which I released. It bit in the middle of a school of jumping albacore, just as the big fish, likely a bluefin, had done.

We were treated like royalty or politicians aboard the Intrepid. The new boat, with its white birch interior woodwork, extra-long bunks and circular booth salon seating is more than comfortable. Stabilizers make it track like it rides on rails. Chef Javier Quintanar had the trip off, but his brother Hector filled in with excellent meals. Before we started home after dark we were treated to a fine steak (cooked to order) dinner with corn on the cob and baked potato, with a superb green salad and triple-layer chocolate cake. All of it was served by deckhand Cameron Casper, on china with upscale silverware.

At the morning weigh-in, skipper Nichols named Duane Gray's 35.6-pound albie the winner. Duane got his fish with a brand new rod. He used a 3/0 Gorilla hook, 30-pound Blackwater fluorocarbon leader and 30-pound Izorline on a Saltiga 30 reel and an 800 L Calstar rod wrapped by Taka Tanaka.

The Intrepid is a lovely new boat, and from my brief experience, she rides as good as she looks. Camerman Paul Sweeney and I are looking forward to a Catchy Tackle ten-day adventure aboard the new rig, from October 16 to 26. There may be a spot or two left on that trip, so if you’d like to join us for a “riding on rails“ experience to the hot spot fishing off southern Baja, call Carol Wood at (530) 472-1658.

It must have been like this in the old days, but you can still find Baja yellowtail spots where you have to Leave ‘Em Biting.

The first thing that happens on a long range trip after you leave the San Diego Harbor is a gathering in the galley for a brief talk on safety and the layout of the boat. Skipper Bruce Smith gave his 22 Shogun anglers the word on a sunny September afternoon. He showed us all how to don a life jacket and where the exits were. The boat has four heads and three showers, said Bruce. She carries 3000 gallons of fresh water and makes water enough to never run out.

We were ready for a four-day albacore trip. We learned the winds on the Outer Banks near the albacore grounds were about 25 knots, and that the skippers on the scene were leaving, calling the conditions “unfishable.” Smith was optimistic about our alternative; fishing the islands of San Benitos and Cedros.

“The yellows have been biting pretty well down there,” he noted, “and Cedros has been our most consistent destination all summer. The Cedros yellows average 20 to 30 pounds, and the big ones are up in the 40’s. They prefer mackerel but they eat the sardines, and sometimes they bite the jigs. When a big yellow hits the surface iron it’s pretty exciting, and water flies everywhere.”

Wind and swell on our starboard quarter, we rode south all night and morning. In the afternoon we pulled into a spot called “The Gap,” a channel between the Benitos Islands. Anchoring just outside, Shogun settled down to fish, rocking on the breezy side. The first biters weren’t long in coming.

I fished with some new 3/0 Mustad Ultra Point ringed hooks just coming onto the market. I went with 20-pound line, also from Mustad, to try to produce a quick fish for the camera. My first bait swam about two minutes and was eaten by a sleek 16-pounder. We could see the hook in his lip, and I asked for a release, and was quickly obliged.

Bill Roecker shows a good sardine-eating yellowtail from the Benitos Islands.

It was a pleasure to fish in the late afternoon sunshine, with the gulls and terns flying around the boat and an occasional yellow boiling outside. There were a few sea lions loitering, but only once did a large male extract mordida (a Spanish word for bribe; a “little bite”), in the form of someone’s 20-pounder just about to be gaffed. Water flew everywhere when he grabbed it and took it away into the Gap to disassemble it.

There are rocks and kelp stringers aplenty at Benitos (skippers jokingly call it “The Bush”), so I changed up to a 40-pound rig with an Accurate 870 two-speed reel. Had we been fishing tuna, I’d have opted for a fluorocarbon leader, but these yellows seemed willing. We picked away at them through the afternoon, and many anglers managed a daily limit of five fish. Almost all were on bait.

Deckhand Steven "Cha Chi" Miller poses with Dan Thompson's typical Benitos yellowtail.

I released a couple, kept a couple and handed one off to the most senior angler on the boat. San Diegan Bob Shimamoto, 89 and just days away from his birthday, brought the sleek yellow in using low gear. He gave me a grin and a thanks, and we reminisced about the last time we fished together, in the Revillagigedos aboard Excel in 1997. He said he hadn’t fished for the last seven years. You could see on his face how he felt about being out here again.

Deckhand Jesse Fernane and San Diegan Bob Shimamoto, 89, with a dandy yellow.

At sunset the anchor came up and we motored downswell. We sat down to a sweet and sour chicken linguini dinner by Chef Bill Armstrong. Skipper Smith told us we were heading across the straits, making a three-hour move to Cedros Island.

“We’ll want to make a tank of mackerel sometime tonight,” he said. “We’ll want the big baits for the yellowtail at Cedros. They’re bigger and they like mackerel. But making it is voluntary tonight. If you want to, the crew would appreciate your help.”

The next morning we awoke under cloud cover, possibly linked to the storm passing far to the southeast, Henriette. The tank of mackerel was ready to go. Smith moved the boat to the area most often fished at the South End of Cedros, off the salt plant. Big yellowtail began biting the baits, and we kept several going through most of the morn. Not many were lost, due to the flat bottom and a lack of nearbv kelp, though passing stringers allowed a few fish to make an escape.

Hooks in 4/0 size, 40-pound line and stout rods were called for by the size of the bait and the yellowtail. I went with a Seeker 6465 H rod and the two-speed Accurate 870 reel, 40-pound Mustad Ultra Pro line and the same 3/0 ringed Ultra Point hooks. Those hooks worked as well for me as ringed circle hooks; I never missed a hook set. One of my fish bit on a green mackerel. Sardines ran better for me, and produced better, though many anglers got their day limits with greenback or Spanish mackerel. Lunch was a delicious shrimp curry made by Chef Armstrong and assistant Eric Greff.

Shogun is one of the long range fleet’s “code boats.” They exchange information several times a day when fishing the same area. We heard from Royal Star, Spirit of Adventure and American Angler that fishing was pretty good up the lee side, so during the slow fishing of mid day we pulled the anchor and headed up that way, to a spot skipper Smith called “The Water Shack.” The shack was at the bottom of a canyon with a spring some distance above.

Bonito were mixed with the yellowtail here, and some calico bass as well. A couple of big yellows crashed on surface jigs, but most biters took live baits. We spent a couple of hours fishing 20 to 30-pound yellows, and then Smith took us back to the South End for the afternoon finale.

Birds marked the big schools of bait moving around on the flats down there, and we drifted on those before anchoring again. The yellows were joined by some barracuda at first, biting on surface jigs, and then they boosted the barries off to somewhere else and settled into a steady pick on bait.

An angler hooked a big black sea bass on a yo-yoed jig. He got it up, and the crew attempted to lip gaff the fish so the jig could be extracted and the chunky black could be released. The fish, a protected species, objected strenuously and broke off. It swam down without a problem in the shallow water, though, ending our concern for its safety.

“We’re going to head up the line,” Smith told us near sunset. “We’ve got to make tracks for home. We’ll have a few hours to fish tomorrow.”

In his internet log, Smith wrote, “It was a good day of fishing here at Cedros island. We had to move around a bit and when we got onto the right spot, the fish would put on a good show biting fly-lined baits and the surface iron. Bill Roecker is on the boat shooting a new video, in which he got some good footage of yellows blowing out on the surface irons.”

Shogun skipper Bruce Smith got this one on a Salas 7X in sardine green.

We had dinner as the boat traveled up the lee side on the lake-calm water of the Keller Canal. “Barbeque Bill” Armstrong prepared his signature dish of ribs in sauce. It was delicious, and one large rack was about all even a hungry man could devour. If that wasn’t rich enough, he offered the “Shogun Special” desert, a layered cake with ice cream, chocolate syrup, bananas and strawberries on top. After pulling on husky yellowtail throughout the day, most were ready for such an extravaganza.

"Barbeque Bill" Armstrong's signature style ribs; a full rack.

At dawn we were off the Baja coast below Punta Baja. We tried a couple of spots for very little, and headed north to Geronimo Island and the Sacrament Reef. No sooner did the anchor go down than big bonito and mixed yellowtail began biting at a rapid pace. Now the surface jig came into its own, and skipper Smith and Matt Salas and other anglers chucking iron busied themselves hooking yellowtail of eight to 30 pounds. The yellows attacked the surface iron within ten feet of the Shogun, making for some riveting video scenes.

Smith gave us a show hooking yellows on a green sardine-colored Salas 7X jig, on a 10-foot Ulua rod, leaning back to make a high hook set. Matt Salas demonstrated a different but equally effective style, with a low, sideways hook set. Both men kept the reel handle turning during the hookup process.

Since we thought we were going albacore fishing, Matt Salas didn’t bring a long rod. I lent him my Seeker 6480 jig stick, which he fished with 30-pound line. Salas fished several sizes of surface jigs, but for all who tried surface jigging, green seemed to be the preferred color. Salas got some on mint green and on green and yellow jigs in 5X, 7X and other models.

The crew was kept very busy during the hot bite. All anglers owed thanks to second skipper Tommie Miles and crewmen Jesse Fernano, Patrick Oleata, Sean Fitz and Steven “Cha Chi” Miller, for their help during the excitement of releasing and gaffing dozens of fish. Due to their help, things never got out of control, and the fishermen were able to make the proper choices.

Calico bass were biting at Sac Reef, and so were rockfish and ling cod. They varied in size, but whether you fished the bottom, at mid water or the surface here you could get bit in a hurry. They bit surface jigs, yo-yoed jigs, flylined baits and baits sunk with a sliding sinker or on the dropper loop. I saw one angler take several yellowtail on a blue and white Tady 45, with the color on the aft end of the light jig.

“Our morning was well spent,” wrote skipper Smith that night. “We fished the area of Sacramento reef, one anchor job and it was game on! The yellows came boiling around the boat biting on the fly-line and surface iron, big bonito, reds, lings, whitefish and calico's all came off the same stop. The only bad part was that we had to pull anchor and leave the yellows biting. The fish ranged anywhere from 12 to 25 pounds with most being in the 15 to 17 bracket.”

It was the best fishing I’ve ever seen at Sacramento Reef. All the species seemed willing, even ravenous. At last skipper Smith told us to wind ‘em up.

“We’ve got to get going,” he announced, “if we’re going to make it back to Fisherman’s Landing by 7:30 tomorrow morning. We’re gonna leave ‘em biting.”

Matt Salas shows his unique personal style of setting the hook with a jig.

So we did. As we motored up the Baja coast, we passed numerous whales, finback and blue whales, headed in the same direction. The plumes from the blue whales looked to rise 20 or 30 feet, and you could see them for a long way. That night we had one more dinner, served by the skipper. It was a fine meal of broiled tri-tip sirloin and asparagus, with a green salad and oven-baked bread.

Next morning we arrived home, with all of our fish fresh, kept in the refrigerated seawater holds. Mario Ghio of Sportsmen’s Seafoods and Sarah Seraspe of Five Star Fish Processing were there to handle the catch for those who didn’t want to spend the day cutting their own fish. Same-day processing was available, with options to cut and wrap or smoke the fish. It was a story that ended well, even if we did have to leave ‘em biting.

300-Pound Tuna Adventure Aboard Qualifier 105



The Hurricane Bank is about 1125 miles south from San Diego, and with a northwest breeze and swell quartering off her 30-foot beam, Qualifier 105 took about three and a half days to make the journey. The 'Cane is 180 miles southwest of Clarion Island and over 400 miles southwest of Cabo San Lucas, making it the most offshore spot ordinarily fished by the San Diego long range fleet. On most maps it's called the Shimada Seamount, and the map on the back wall in Qualifier's galley makes the depth on the high spot to be 28 fathoms.

Discovered by commercial tuna fishermen half a century ago, Hurricane Bank has become a prime focus of winter and spring long range trips after the closure of fishing near the Revillagigedos Islands since San Benedicto, Socorro, Roca Partida and Clarion were made a preserve in 2002.

Sport fishing is still permitted there outside the 12-mile limit by boats with Mexican permits and anglers wearing daily permits in the form of paper bracelets issued by the Comision Nacional De Areas Naturales Protegidas, which cost four dollars a day. We stopped at Clarion Island and checked in with the Comandante of the naval base there, as required, when we left the bank.

Three days of fishing the bank with live sardines and jigs produced tuna of five to 190 pounds, and wahoo of up to 60 pounds. Small yellowfin were so numerous as to be pests at times, prompting skipper Brian Sims to move the boat to another position or to try trolling for wahoo.

We kept no tuna of less than 20 pounds and very few of less than 30 pounds. Rainbow runners and skipjack tuna also found the boat often, and were released. The weather varied during our trip from breezy, heavy overcast to bright sunny days, but all days were quite fishable, and most were downright pleasant, as expected during early May.

We shared the bank with Royal Polaris, captained by skipper Roy Rose, for two days. Roy took his anglers to Clarion ahead of us, and it was his report of fishing for 100 to 200-pound yellowfin there that prompted our move, especially after we caught no large tuna on our third day.

The wahoo fishing also slowed right after the full moon, with most of our 'hoos biting on sardines rather than jigs and bombs. Two of our anglers had the rare experience of catching three wahoo on 'dines and straight monofilament line on the same day! Most of us got our skinnies on 2/0 to 4/0 hooks with wire leaders of 40 to 65 pounds breaking strength. Single and multi-strand wire leaders both worked well.

Because many wahoo strikes are missed, wire leaders often return to the angler kinked or mangled by the razor-edged tiny triangles edging the jaws of the striped sprinters. I had great success straightening multi-strand leaders with a nifty tool made by John Pandeles of Walnut. Pandeles was a pioneer in fishing big tuna with small international reels and Spectra line, and he specializes in building nifty Corvettes. A couple of passes along the brutalized wire with the tool restored the wire to a usable condition.

Santa Ana engineer Gary Teraoka re-introduced me to the wire straightener. Gary is an Accurate pro staffer, and a tackle whiz who makes all his own leaders for tuna and wahoo, one of a growing number of left-coasters who catches his big tuna with the rod-on-the-rail technique. I used his leaders and some made by the Q-105 crew, with multi-strand wire and 3/0 Mustad 91450 hooks, common and inexpensive.

Fishing was hot at times, with tuna of six to 15 pound biting every bait that tried to swim away. That school was huge, and it moved around the bank, attracting a few seabirds every time it came near the surface. Skipjack tuna and black skipjack tuna up to 20 pounds hung around the boat when it anchored on the high spots, making anglers briefly think they had hooked a larger fish. At times a school of rainbow runners snapped on sardines. Black Mexican jacks stayed close to the pinnacles. These smaller fish, while released, left snarled wahoo leaders behind.

Our food was prepared by Jess Martinez and Mike Johns, and dinner (fresh fish, chicken, pork and beef) was served by crewmen. Two nights before we got to Cabo we had prime rib, and the next evening each table had a full-course turkey dinner with its own crewman to carve the bird. Snacks were offered at midmorning and midafternoon. As on all long range boats, coffee, soft drinks and beer were always available, as were fruit and cookies. Most of us departed Qualifier a couple of pounds heavier, with a well-fed feeling.

Chartermaster Jack Nilsen brought some $75,000 worth of rods and Accurate reels for anglers to borrow. Nilsen has been on the Q-105 many times, and has a following of talented anglers. Long-time long ranger and union carpet layer Allen Lemberg of San Diego had a wonderful trip, bagging two cows. He also pulled off an almost impossible task: using no wire, he bagged four wahoo on bait and straight monofilament line in one day.

“I love those J-hooks,” said Allen, “and that’s why I think I got ‘em; but I was really lucky. I just like those 6/0 Mustad 91450 hooks; they’re cheap, and they’re strong.”

Allen’s feat one-upped another unlikely feat. Earlier the same day, Jim Kirk of Los Alamitos (no relation to the former starship commander) took three ‘skins on bait and monofilament line. He had no idea of how he’d done the feat, but he was more than happy with the results.

Another good fisherman who’s been out with Accurate before was Peter Corselli of Whittier, who fished hard and well, bagging numerous wahoo and plenty of small fish for release at the Hurricane. At Clarion Island he mustered two yellowfin over 200 pounds. Beth Smith of San Diego was also aboard. She has several big tuna to her credit, including a bluefin of over 200 pounds.

Because the fish on the bank were mostly less than 100 pounds, I fished with a new seven-foot Super Seeker 6470 rod and a topshot of 50-pound Mustad Ultra line, backed with 65-pound, hollow Line One Spectra on a recently introduced Accurate 665 two-speed reel, with a high gear of 5-1 and a low gear ratio of 2-1. The rig allowed good casting distance, a feel for what a sardine was doing 50 or 100 yards away, and over 400 yards of line. It had enough muscle to handle tuna or wahoo of up to 100 pounds, I felt, and it did bring me an 82-pound yellowfin.

FishingVideos.com sponsors put up about $3,000 worth of prizes for Qualifier anglers. Patrick Kemp, a Scotia logger, won the Seeker 6465 XH rod offered by company president Joe Pfister. Each angler won a drawing prize of jigs or line or fishing pliers put up by Mustad, Salas, Tady, Catchy, Fish Trap and Sumo Tackle. Every angler also got a goodie bag packed with jigs (including Zucker’s trolling lures and a big Salas Super 6 iron), Mustad hooks, line and a six-pack of Flexx-Rap finger tape, among other items. Each angler got a new Accurate Boss 270-C reel from Qualifier owner John Klein.

The first day we fished the Hurricane, we learned that soaking a bait for many minutes at a long distance from the boat was an invitation to sharks, browns and hammerheads, especially with a large bait. That was the day of the full moon, and sharks had been a problem on the bank for several weeks. When sharks are really clustered, they bite jigs, the kite baits, live baits and hooked fish, sometimes to the point of total exasperation, with few or no tuna being decked.

One advantage to fishing under the kite is that you can sometimes lift the bait away from an approaching shark. On the long soak with a fly-lined bait, there's no warning, just a brief heavy pull, then nothing, no resistance as you wind in another shredded leader.

Over the next two days the sharks almost disappeared. Maybe their business there was finished, or maybe the long-liner we could see fishing in the distance was catching them; it was hard to tell. But the few large tuna around also seemed to vanish on the third day. From the bridge of the anchored sport boat, in the sunlight of our second afternoon, we could see a few packs of tuna of 100 to 200 pounds "surfing" downswell before the bow.

Near sunset, a large school of black porpoise moved across the bank. Maybe the big tuna left with those "ponies," because we saw none the third day. Both tuna and porpoise were gone. The skipper busted a move.

We left Hurricane Bank at dark, and arrived next morning at Clarion Island, where donned our special permit bracelets and checked in with the authorities. We were boarded. Our papers and passports inspected and approved. We anchored in the little bay called “The Camp,” just off the only beach on the rocky, steep volcanic island. Clarion is one of the very few places left in this world where sea turtles can dig nests and lay their eggs unmolested by man. When the skipper fired the engines to leave, we eyed the wahoo swimming around the rig. At least a dozen were loafing just under the surface in the clear warm shallows.

Sea birds also live their lives without human predation on Clarion, and they showed us where the tuna were surfacing to feed out past the 12-mile limit. Frigate birds, masked and common brown boobies teamed up with porpoise, shearwaters and terns to mark feeding schools of yellowfin. The fish weren't staying up for long periods, though, and that made for a run-and-gun style of fishing. Our eyes up in the crow's nest spotting bird schools were aided by expensive binoculars in the hands of Armando Palifox, long-time crewman known throughout the fleet for his abilities. 'Mando was a commercial tuna fisherman in his younger days.

Spotting bird schools marking fish by repeated diving, Palifox radioed position down to skipper Sims on the bridge, who pushed three throttles forward and sent the Q-105 at fast cruising speed toward the action. If we were there on time, we'd get a few tuna hooked before they went down and headed elsewhere. After boating whatever tuna came to gaff, we put out the trolling jigs again and looked for more of the same, loafing along at six knots or so. When the engines cranked up again so did our anticipation, as we waited for the skipper to announce, "Stand by the bait tank!"

When it worked right, we could slide up on the action and get our baits and jigs cast out before the tuna sounded, and hook two or three or more before they left. The yellowfin off Clarion were the right stuff, what we were after; fast, chubby and long-sickled. They ran from 60 to 300 pounds. Some schools were of mixed sizes; most seemed uniform. None were what you'd call large schools, but there were several times when half of our 17 anglers aboard got bit. Sometimes there was only a single fish, or just two or three that showed up on the boat's sonar.

It was obvious from the get-go that many of these models were cows, tuna of 200 pounds and more. Just before lunch on the second day, I hooked one on my 80-pound outfit, the lightest gear the captain had said he wanted to see in the water. I had about 600 yards of 80-pound Spectra and Mustad line on an Accurate 30, with a short leader of 80-pound Seaguar fluorocarbon and an 11/0 Mustad stainless steel circle hook when a whopper took my sardine. The rod, a Super Seeker 6455 XXH, is optimized for 80-pound line. It was about the heaviest rig I thought I could cast a sardine, and still feel what it was doing fifty or a hundred yards away.

When it began, I harnessed up with my trusty old kidney harness and a small fighting belt with a gimbal. After 20 minutes I switched to the heavy fighting gear: a “Ronbo” (named for maker Ron Dargo of San Diego) spider-type butt harness and a heavy aluminum plate suspended so its bottom was just above my knees. It offered vastly more pressure to put on the tuna, and I was grateful for our chartermaster Jack Nilsen of Accurate, who let me borrow it.

The yellowfin was easily the biggest one I'd ever had hooked. It felt good having second skipper Cal Link and deckhands Brook Landavazo advising and helping me through the tight spots. The cooks called for lunch to be served and most anglers went into the galley. I stayed out on the afterdeck, staggering under the pull and sweating. Deckhands Tim Walker and Travis Lavrice were also nearby, encouraging me.

I'm used to having a hooked tuna make one or two long runs, and then sounding into a straight up and down struggle. This fish made five long runs over 45 minutes, and never went down at more than a 45-degree angle. After an hour he (all tuna over 150 pounds are male, I'm told) settled down and sounded, and I went into labor, into low gear. Ten minutes later I could see deep color.

Skipper Sims walked over to me, peered into the water and asked, "What's the biggest tuna you've caught?"

"About 180 pounds," I admitted. "I've hooked a couple of bigger ones, but they never stayed on very long."

"I don't want to scare you," laughed Sims, "so I'm not gonna say how big this one is."

"I know he's over 200," I said, "because he's beating the hell out of me."

"Oh, he's over 200, all right," said Brian.

The fish came up to 20 feet and got nervous, taking me back and forth across the stern. He circled, he dashed, he reversed direction. He headed off, breaking the surface off the stern's port corner. He got back down to 30 feet. He had two-foot sickle fins and he was lit up, blue and silver and gold on his sides, when I could see them. The rest of the time he was right side up, showing a wide brown back.

He had a shakingly powerful, slow tail stroke that showed deep into the top half of my rod with mechanical regularity: nod, nod, nod. I'd get him on his side and gain some line; he'd right himself and take it back. When he was close in the corners he put so much torque on the rod it twisted, despite the gimbal.

I was in and out of the harness several times, and in and out of low gear. I pried the fish up to less than ten feet as he changed stern corners, but he got back down to 30 feet during these exchanges. The crew helped me in the corners by using the fork to keep my line from chafing on the boat when he circled underneath the stern. I tried lifting him with the rod. That worked, but it was exhausting. I put the rod down, using the rail to absorb some of the force of the fish. That worked sometimes, but it was awkward, and I had to watch the handle of the reel to keep it from hitting the rail. Even with my left hand on top of the reel I couldn’t control the torque forces.

There he was, ten feet down. On the outside of the dozens of circles he made he was up, close enough to the surface to gaff, but too far off. As he came around toward the boat, his power and momentum let him get his head down just enough to make gaffing impossible, and he’d slide back down to ten feet. After an hour and a half, I was done, out of gas.

"I've had it," I said to Brook. "Let's just get him on the boat. You take him, and finish him off."

I turned and took a bottle of water, and put it up to my mouth when I heard an expletive.

Later, when we talked about it, Brook remembered, "I took a half a turn on the reel, and he came off."

It was disappointing, but no surprise, after all that time. We looked at the end of the 80-pound line, and it was well-chewed, nicked up for three or four inches above the break by tuna teeth. The mono had rubbed across those choppers one too many times.

That evening, skipper Sims told us in a galley meeting, "No more light line. Use nothing less than 100-pound line; I'd prefer you fish with 130-pound line.

Later that same tropical sunny afternoon, Alvin Lim, owner of Angler’s Outfitter (a Singapore tackle shop at www.anglersoutfitter.com.sg ), who was leading a group of five anglers with master jig maker Tony Wu, hooked another monster tuna.

Alvin was comfortable with his heavy gear and used to playing tuna on the rail, but he was also treated to a tour of the walkways around the Qualifier. Alvin prevailed, however, and beat the fish, which was gaffed aboard to shouts of glee from his friends.

Skipper Sims taped it and conservatively estimated the weight of the long-sickled beauty at 270 pounds.

The next day was luckier for me and other anglers. We landed eight sizeable tuna, and four of those were over the 200-pound mark.

I got two of the smaller ones on the heavy gear, with 130-pound line and a borrowed Accurate 50 reel and Seeker Black Steel 6463 XXXH rod.

The first bit in the late morning and came up before a second, larger fish caught by Gary Teraoka.

We posed for still shots in the bright overhead sunlight with a brace of pretty yellowfin.

The second one bit as the sun was setting. It was the only tuna bite on a stop marked by many birds. This fish started out by swimming at the boat a couple of times, then diving and sulking along the port side of Qualifier 105. I fought the fish while everyone else went in to dinner. Forty-five minutes later I was in another stymie in the starboard stern corner, hungry and tired.

“Want me to finish this one for you?” asked Jack Nilsen. “I haven’t decked a good tuna yet.”

“That’s a great idea,” I told him.

“I’m so sore from yesterday I can’t get my right arm higher than my shoulder.”

Jack’s a true expert at handling tuna by using the rail. He kept the heavy rod bent, and took a few inches whenever the rod tip rose. In ten more minutes the fish was on the deck.

I told Jack to tag it; it was his fish in the end, but he thanked me and declined.

The next day was our last day to fish. We had a 36-hour run before us to get back to Cabo San Lucas, where eleven anglers were flying back to San Diego and LA. We fished hard for no tuna all morning, but afternoon brought a couple of good stops. We got four big tuna going on sardine baits, and while all of them fought hard, two were especially tough.

One of them bit for Ted Crane of Costa Mesa, and it roared off away from the boat and stripped Ted’s reel. Just before the last line came off the crew tied on a second outfit, with a float attached to the butt of the backup rig, just in case it was also stripped.

That was exactly the case, and the backup outfit, which has a light drag setting to prevent breakage, was tossed over with a second backup rig attached.

While this drama unfolded, Chak Chow of Singapore struggled with a huge tuna. It took him around the boat and went back and forth across the bow, straight down, with most of Chak’s heavy white Spectra pointing toward its location. It went back and forth across the anchor and winch, prompting deckhand Travis Lavrice to stand up on the bow rail to get the line over the obstructions.

While Chak dealt with his problems, the second backup rig on Ted’s tuna ran out of line, and went into the water with an attached float, following the first two. The fish kept heading into the distance. Everyone commented on how large it must be.

Second skipper Cal Link was with Ted back at the stern end of the port side, the windward side, and Chak was now on the forward end of the port side. He was in a seesaw situation with a very heavy fish, gaining a few inches and then giving them back, even though he had the drags set as tightly as the crew dared.

Ted’s second backup rig was spooled, and a third one attached, this time with a big float, to hold up all that gear. The tuna was still traveling away from the Qualifier, but the skipper couldn’t chase it while Chak’s fish was hanging. Ted now had four complete heavy tuna outfits in use, with three of them soaking in the depths.

Over an hour had passed since Ted hooked his tuna. Chak had hooked his first, and he now was clearly out of gas. He wanted to get the fish, though, so he gave the rod up to Travis. Muscular, young and fresh, Travis set about putting a hurt on the big yellowfin dogging it in the deep water, four hundred yards down.

Many minutes later, it was Travis who was sweating, and wondering what it would take to lift that sucker. He had a single-0minded perseverance, though, and his mates were all talking to him, so he hung in there and ground away on Chak’s big Accurate reel, and little by little, began to coax the fish up to where we could see it, silvery blue and over 60 feet down. Chak took another turn, then gave the rig back to Travis.

The tuna’s circles became smaller, and at last it was near the bow, disappearing under the hull on the inside third of each circle. No doubt Travis could feel its incredible power in his hands, wrists and shoulders. He was as determined as the tuna.

A dozen more slow circles under the bow, with the fish up on one side and down when it came past the gaffers, and it was close enough to gaff. One, two, three gaffs went in and the crew waltzed the yellowfin down the side to the passenger gate just behind the galley.

A fourth gaff had to be applied before the crew had the power needed to lift the whopper over the side, and everyone on the boat whooped with joy and relief as it slid through on its left side.

“Look out for that tail!” someone shouted.

Someone else yelled, “Wow! It must weigh 300 pounds!”

The measuring tape was put on the big fish. It was 79 inches long and 56 inches in girth.
Using the weight-finding formula of Length times Girth squared, then divided by 800, the tuna’s heft calculated to 309.68 pounds. It was the first tuna over 300 pounds caught by a San Diego long range boat since January.

With the trip’s best fish now aboard, skipper Sims was free to get after the one that relieved Ted Crane and the Qualifier of three outfits. Normally a skiff would be launched to chase such a renegade, saving the rigs, but the one skiff aboard had a leaky pontoon. It hung in the davits off the starboard side. All that line out in the Pacific had to be reeled back in, one outfit at a time.

One rig at a time, it all got wound back on four reels.

Even after all that time and all the effort of lugging all that gear, Ted’s tuna still had more than enough spunk to wear him down as it circled near the boat.

The end was near the gate and the bait tanks, and the fish came aboard, next to Ted, large, tanned and 77, it didn’t seem large enough to cause all that trouble.

Later we learned it was well over 200 pounds.

Ted posed with the fish and all four outfits, and then he posed with his deckhand; the reason he finally got his first cow, second skipper Cal Link.

“Look at my hands,” Ted said to me, “Look at ‘em shake.”

“That’s the most rigs I’ve ever seen in the water,” I told him.

“That alone would make anybody shake.”

That was the end of our fishing time, and Clarion offered us an impressive goodbye as we left at sunset, with glorious rays of sunshine breaking through a low cloud cover near the island, as the boobies headed for their roosts and the breeze settled into calm.


Qualifier 105 Homecoming

Qualifier 105 arrived at Point Loma Sportfishing after lunch May 14, having been delayed, “by eight-foot swells at five seconds,” said skipper Brian Sims, “beginning at The Ridge.”

Those who had ridden the boat joined those who’d come home by air three days earlier and unloaded all the gear anglers take on 16-day big tuna trips. The afternoon was breezy in a bright sun, much cooler than the breeze in the tropics some 76 hours past.

Sims was cheered by the results at the scales, however, as he weighed nine fish over 200 pounds.

Chak Chow’s giant yellowfin stretched the certified scales to 310.8 pounds. He got the first place award. The Singapore angler got his monster tuna with a sardine on an 8/0 Eagle Claw ringed circle hook, tied to 100-pound P-Line and 130-pound Izorline Spectra. He fished with an Accurate 50 W reel and a Calstar 760 M rod after a two-hour fight.

Alvin Lim, Singapore pro shop owner, took second place for a 282.4-pound yellowfin. He bagged it after an hour-long battle. It took a sardine on an 8/0 Eagle Claw hook, and he also used 100-pound P-Line, 130-pound Power Pro Spectra on an Accurate 50 W reel, with a 760 H rod he wrapped himself.

Hot stick Peter Corselli had two cows, at 202.6 and 243.4 pounds. He won third place for that one. Corselli pumps iron for exercise, and it showed on the time for his tuna: 30 minutes, and twice around the boat, thank you. Pete also won a couple of prizes, including an Accurate Boss 665 reel along the way, by catching the first or the largest of several species, in the “Daily Double” challenges posted by Accurate’s jack Nilsen.

Corselli fished sardines with a 4/0 ringed Super Mutu hook on 130-pound Big Game line and 130-pound Line One Spectra on a Tiagra 50 W reel and a Calstar 760 H rod.

Beth Smith of San Diego pulled in a 242.8-pound tuna with a sardine on an 8/0 Eagle Claw hook. She used Gary Teraoka’s outfit: 130-pound Izorline and 130-pound Izor Spectra on an Accurate 50 reel and a Calstar 6460 XH rod built by Yo’s.

Ted Crane of Costa Mesa weighed his first cow, a sleek 225.8-pounder; the fish that required four outfits to bring to bay.

“It was two hours and ten minutes,” Ted said of the time. “We had two miles of line out.”

Crane fished a sardine on a 9/0 Mustad circle hook, tied to 130-pound P-Line and 130-pound Izor Spectra on a Tiagra 30 W reel, with a Shimano Talus six-foot, six-inch rod.

Allen Lemberg of San Diego had two cows and a four-wahoo-on-mono day. His first cow went 204.4 pounds and ate a sardine on an 8/0 Gorilla hook, tied to 100-pound Big Game line and 130-pound Line One Spectra backing. He used a Beastmaster reel and a Seeker 6465 XXH rod, and got that one in an hour.

Lemberg’s second cow came on the kite with a flying fish bait, with the boat’s kite rig: an Eagle Claw 10/0 hook, 100-pound Big Game line and 130-pound Trilene line, an Accurate 50 W reel and a Calstar 6460 XXH rod.

Virtually every angler had several shots at hooking a big tuna on the trip. Only one angler didn’t get one over 100 pounds, and he refused any hand-offs. Most of us, including myself, got to experience what it feels like to hook a cow yellowfin, and how it feels to hang on as it departs, muy rapido, for pastures elsewhere. None of us will forget that.

Order Fishing The Avalanche Now!



Some 170 miles from San Diego, Excel skipper Shawn Steward located some unexpected schools of yellowfin tuna from 15 to over 50 pounds, two days after we left port at eight in the morning of June 5. The albacore season has been slow to get going this year, so we headed south. Steward said he’d like to look at the area where albacore often first appear, down toward Guadalupe Island.

Along the way on the first day of fishing, we stopped often at mats of floating kelp in the open, greenish water. These “kelp paddies” were often holding fish; small yellowtail of four to 12 pounds. We didn’t keep many of those, and after experiencing the same result multiple times, Steward ignored most paddies.

Trolling stops between kelps were also part of the experience, with the majority caused by schools of rampaging offshore bonito from four up to 16 or 18 pounds. The striped pirates were eager to bite on bait or jigs. Some of those were set into the “fresh” holds of refrigerated sea water, for eating later. Most of the bonito and small yellowtail were released. Even the crew talked about how many large bonito were around this year, and what it meant.

The area holding the sweet grade of yellowfin tuna was different from most of the water we traveled through. It was clean, blue when the overcast let you see it, and warmer, right about 66 degrees. We were also looking for albacore, but saw little sign of longfin. The yellowfin were most welcome. While the schools weren’t inclined to stay with the boat for more than a couple of minutes, we found some exceptions. Those schools bit at a declining speed for several minutes; long enough to catch a couple of fish, for anglers who were quick.

Fishing with live sardines and iron jigs worked well on the biting schools. I got a brace of tuna that afternoon that weighed 43 and 45 pounds on Mario Ghio’s scales at Fisherman’s Landing at our return. I asked Mario to cut one and to smoke one for me. Fisherman’s Canning and Five Star Fish Processing were also there to meet us and assist anglers with the catch.

We fished as a mixed group of anglers. Some had never been on a trip longer than one day; others were experienced anglers on fresh water. About a third of the 18 anglers aboard were experienced long rangers.

After the skipper’s introductory talk on safety and current conditions everyone was well-stocked by FishingVideos.com with fishing tackle for the five-day trip, with a new reel, two new rods and hooks, line, lures and various tackle and items given by Mustad, Accurate, Seeker, Tady Lures, Sumo Tackle and Captain P-Bod’s, Izorline, Zucker’s Fish Trap and Burns Saltwater Tackle.

Most of the fish the newcomers caught came on the free items and their rental rods and reels. These anglers, particularly two groups from Montana and other out-of-state places, wanted to express their gratitude to the trip’s sponsors.

That day of yellowfin fishing produced the eventual jackpot winner for David Stanton of Chula Vista, who was fishing with his mother Dee Ann. Seeing that the tuna became wary or finicky after the first few moments of each bite, Stanton resorted to 20-pound line and a long, whippy rod, and was rewarded with an hour-long battle against uneven odds, but won out anyway with a 51.5-pound yellowfin. No doubt he heard from some about holding the boat up for the fight, because he didn’t try the 20-pound again on yellowfin.

Sarah Poole, owner Bill Poole’s daughter-in-law, was fishing with her father Mark Dempsey, and got one of those nicer tuna on a sardine under a balloon set up by Steward’s crew, which is another way to entice boat-shy or line-shy fish. Sarah had a great trip, and out fished most of us.

Flying close to the surface while performing high speed maneuvers, terns and shearwaters marked the schools of yellowfin. There were other birds out there on the open water: jaegers and adult and juvenile albatrosses, and a lost cattle egret flying around under the overcast skies. I got four tuna, dumped two and released one. Then I handed five more off to newbies; two made it to the boat.

Sea conditions were moderate and breezy, with some small wavelets or whitecaps. The swell crossed from the northwest and the southwest.

Skipper Steward made the decision that evening to give Guadalupe Island a try. Seeing those yellowfin up north so far so early could indicate that the might already be at the island, he thought, perhaps in even larger sizes. The place hadn’t been fished since last season, so the hog-sized yellowtail native there ought to be willing.

Next morning we anchored off Pilot Rock Two, on the North End’s weather side. It was a bit sloppy, with the wind compacted there as it often is, and a tricky current that made anchoring difficult. Nevertheless, the big yellowtail were there, and ready to glom jigs yo-yoed up from the rocky bottom. We picked away at ‘em, and saw a few nice tuna leaping around.

Many of the yellowtail we hooked were over 40 pounds. Hooking and landing such beasts on iron was beyond our newer anglers. My own experience was a waking nightmare; I hooked and lost five big ‘tails. The first one rocked me before I could get him away from his front door, which was made out of rocks.

The second one came up two thirds of the way, and then found his second home, a pinnacle. I wound in badly frayed 40-pound line. Two more managed to pull out the treble hooks on my replacement jigs. The last one got off with a little help from my friends; another angler hooked my line with his jig, thought he was bit, and set on the fish.

When things like these happen I like to say I had the best part of him anyhow.

Later that morning skipper Shawn took us around to the lee side of the island, the sunny side. It was awe-inspiring to see the colors in the steep volcanic ridge of Guadalupe, red, brown, dusky yellow and black, the twisted layers rising over the blue pristine water. Hundreds of elephant seals lay on the few beaches made of fallen boulders and wave-pounded cobble, and Guadalupe fur seals were almost as thick in the water and atop big rocks on the shoreline.



We got small yellowtail and lots of bass at the first anchorage we tried, near Spanish Point. Someone, I think it may have been Chef Jason Fleck or his brother, second skipper Justin, hooked a very big yellowtail on a surface jig. We saw tuna in our chum, but got no biters. Motoring down the island, we stopped twice more for less action, and before we got to Boxing Glove, Steward turned the boat around, not liking the look of the water down that way.

“It’s all torn up,” he remarked. You could see the lines from some sort of mixing down that way, running at the surface in a crazed pattern

We got all the way back up to Pilot Rock, which we’d passed by earlier because there were two pangas carrying three men each parked there, probably urchin or abalone fishermen, diving with an air supply from the skiffs. I couldn’t help but think about diving in waters with white sharks known to attack seals, and people. We never saw Whitey, this time.

Anchoring again, we started to fish, encouraged by some tuna cavorting around, and a few big yellowtail splashed in the big circle we left coming in. I tried a sardine on 30-pound line with a fluorocarbon leader. The bait swam strongly, and 40 yards out an impressive tuna took it. The fish ripped off my 100-yard topshot in a trice, and then took half my Spectra backing, headed straight for the deeps, before I stopped it by pushing the lever drag on my Accurate 870 past the strike detent.

I worked the tuna back toward the boat over the next 15 minutes. About 100 feet away, the line broke.

“I should have backed the drag off again,” I muttered, after a couple of less appropriate remarks.

Experienced angler Phil Hall of Escondido hung a monster on his iron jig next, and it tore off and down, straightening out the treble hooks on his green and yellow enticement. He and I commiserated. Another angler hooked, landed and released a black sea bass of 60 or 80 pounds. I didn’t see it, but my cameraman got the catch and release.

Hell came uncorked next, as the biggest rock fall I’ve ever seen took place just a couple of hundred yards away. With a loud crack, a huge rock up near the top of the island, several hundred feet up, departed from the cliffs and fell down to the beach not far from where the Mexican panga anglers had been fishing.

The rock fall rumbled louder and louder as it dislodged other rocks and they in turn brought more, until boulders, rocks, stones and dirt poured like a waterfall down the vertical face onto the beach and into the water. We got it all on digital television tape and still camera shots.

The noise was tremendous, and the curtain of dust looked like something only a very large bomb could raise, spreading and rising and pushed back up the cliff by the wind. This did not seem to encourage the bite.

Not long after that we went back around the point and tried Elephant Rock and Pilot Two again for yellowtail in the gray light of late afternoon under the cloud layer of the weather side. The big yellows were still there, and still willing. We caught ten or a dozen, along with some smaller fish. The big slugs looked to be 40 to 50 pounds, but we lost many more than we got aboard. We fished ‘em until darkness closed us out.

Skipper Steward had to decide whether we should stay the night and fish until late morning. He got word that afternoon from the Red Rooster III and skipper Julio Ochoa of biting albacore. Julio’s anglers, fishing on a day and a half trip, had 98 longfin before sunset that day, and that made the decision easier. We headed north.

Crewman and technician Mike Ramirez bailed me out twice during the trip, when fishing with a remote mike on my lapel resulted in breaking its permanent wire connector. Mike remade the tricky connection in the ultra-thin co-ax cable and got me back in biz. A guy like that is a good thing to have on a boat.

In the morning we turned in toward Baja, as we got word from another boat of larger albacore encountered in a closer area. Bluefin had also been seen there, so that was now our destination.

We saw a lot of tuna. Schools of bluefin popped up all day, marked by birds, and then go down again before we could reach them. They’d come under the boat after we got to them, but the frustrating rascals wouldn’t bite. Shawn found albacore marks with his electronics, and the albies did the same; skedaddled, or just sulked down where we could see ‘em on the meter, lock jawed. We heard that the hot albacore area up above was equally locked up.

An hour before sunset on our last day of fishing, we found the right school. Bluefin charged the boat, leaping for sardines. My assistant and I shot that action from the get-go, as anglers connected with the tuna; one camera on the upper deck and the other down on the stern in the middle of the action. Several tuna were boated. After the first ten minutes I put the HD camcorder down and went to fishing.

The bite had slacked off to a pick, but you could still get bit by bluefin hanging around the boat, but not close. I found a 30-pounder, and nursed him up to gaff with that same 30-pound line.

“Bring the stick!” I hollered when I had the fish temporarily awash, flanks gleaming with that dark bronze bluefin show when they’re excited. That’s when the 25-pound fluorocarbon leader popped off at the hook.

I was so excited I tangle-knotted my next attempted rigging and had to cut it off and start again. Dusk was coming, and the bluefin bite had greatly slowed. I cast a new bait, but it wouldn’t swim for me and I got another, then another. The last sardine took off in the proper way, out and away, and I followed it around the corner and up the side to the bait tanks at mid-afterdeck.

People started whooping up toward the bow, and I could see a bent rod up that way. Then Sarah Poole hung a fish amidships. She brought it in, and I heard the cry, “Albacore!” as another rod bent in a continuing ripple down the side.

I felt a thump, my line began to run, and I pushed my lever drag to the strike position. A satisfying weight came on and the fish began to run. It ran straight back up into the wind. It stopped, but it didn’t go down, just dogged away near the surface out there.

Moments later, I wound it in, threshing at the surface in the oncoming swells, tail-wrapped. The long pectoral fin on its left side appeared to be waving in the breeze. A gaffing by crewman Joe Crisci, and I had my first albacore of the season.

The day ended soon, along with our time to fish. Captain Steward served us that night for the traditional prime rib to order last dinner, with a delicious spinach, candied walnut and feta cheese salad, hot fresh bread and baked potatoes with chives and sour cream, and a dandy cheesecake for desert.

“We did alright,” said Shawn after his pre-dinner talk to the anglers. “We got those big Guadalupe yellowtail, almost a hundred yellowfin tuna, seven albacore, five bluefin and we released I don’t know how many bonito and small yellows. Not bad for 18 anglers at a time when fishing’s not easy. We saw the island and the rock fall and released a black sea bass. We pieced together a trip.”

We gave him a round of applause.

In the morning the fish were unloaded at Fisherman’s Landing. The big ones were weighed, and David Stanton of Chula Vista had the heaviest; that 51.5-pound yellowfin tuna he caught with his 20-pound rig. Michael Walton of Warrenton, PA was second, for his 48.7-pound yellowtail, and Jim Gokinski North Olmsted, OH won third place for his 46.6-pound Guadalupe homeguard yellowtail.

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