The Evolution of a Kayak Angler

The Beginning

My first kayak, I remember it clearly, it was a brand new Ocean Kayak 13 paired with a Carlisle yellow paddle. The initial investment was over 1200 dollars (Kayak, Car rack, and fishing gear). I spent my entire check and question the sanity of my purchase.

The salesman, a hippie/surfer guy with sun weathered hair and a tan to match, left me with words, in hindsight, I should have heeded before leaving.

“Congrats man! Don’t get lost in the madness” , as he cracked a short smile.
I turned around and laughed
“I’ll try not to”, I responded as I turned and exited the shop.

I should have listened

Hunting and Gathering

The following week I took my new scuffle free kayak out to oyster point marina. My first fish, strangely enough, was a large halibut that I miraculously landed. The birth of an avid kayak fisherman was born, and the road was set ahead before me.

I spent most weekends along the coast searching for hot spots and filling stringers from: Santa Cruz, Monterey, up to the San Mateo coast. Life was good, and I had the key to the grocery market. It was all I can eat, not just me, but my whole family and friends. How can I resist? I’m Asian, and throwing away good fish is just unthinkable! Moreover, it justified the need and quenched the desire, and by all means, cultivated the madness building in my mind and eating my soul. Some would classify it an addiction.

 Chovie: “Come on hommie, slang me some of that lingcod crack? It’s good stuff. That stuff last week was legit. I’ll pay you back when I get paid. I’m good for it. You know I am. COME ON!!!”

 Lingcod Crack Dealer: “ Big boss says you’ve maxed out your credit. He wants his money this week, or there “maybe” an accident in your future. Hard to make a living without fins hommie. Yo Keith, it’s not personal, it’s business man. Get the money chovie and I got the fillets. Lead bullets don’t taste as good, I guarantee it.”

Each weekend, the freezer would fill and the family would come over to get their “fair share”. Appreciation soon became expectation and grew my apprehension to keep my catch. What began as an offering of respect and gratitude soon turned into greed and expectations; the end of the meat gathering years was near, and I turned to something more fulfilling.

Growing up as a Sports Fisherman

If fishing for meat no longer was the reason for going out each week, where do I go from here? I was at a cross roads and I remember the day it all changed.

It was an early spring and the water was calm with a slight north breeze rustling the tranquility of the morning water. Bait scattered the surface trying to avoid becoming the next meal. The current pushed south a mist a moderate swell. The sardine on my line nervously signaled a predator was near by twitching my rod tip. The line suddenly becomes slack and my rod tip bends directly into the water. The sound of the fish alarm broke the morning stillness. The fish made powerful runs into the protection of the kelp bed and rocks and instinctively I rush my drag up and forced its head away from the structure. I secured a nice thirty-inch blue lingcod to the side my yak after a five-minute fight and it was time to send another lingcod to lingcod heaven, BUT this time I did the unthinkable to meat hunters—I let it go.

The object of my admiration— meat hunting became secondary to just living in the moment of life. Water therapy fed my soul and washed away the stress of everyday life—Life is good
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Lingcod after lingcod
Rockfish after rockfish
Were pardoned and it felt good.

This doesn’t mean that I didn’t enjoy or kept Rock fish, but the need to kill everything I caught and the excuse of catching to feed “Friends and family” no longer justified my new view on fishing. I kept what I need and that was enough, and I was ok with it.

 Crack Dealer: “Hey Keith, I got some of that Lingcod crack. It’s legit. Give some to your friends and neighbors. I know you take care of them. I’ll throw a couple extra fillets in there, since you’ve been a reliable customer. Big boss, appreciates the business bro. We are all about listening to our customers.”

Chovie: “ Damn…that lingcod crack looks fresh. I’ve turned a corner bro. I’m living legit nowadays. I don’t do that no more. DFG has been on me. I got a family now and I wanna teach the little chovies the right way.”

Lingcod Crack Dealer: “hahah that’s good. I’ve seen guys like you, trying to go straight. That’s a nice fantasy they got you believing. It’s in your blood. Big boss sends his regards. We got the goods when you’re ready hahah. You guys always come back!!”

Arise the Conservationist

As the years pass by I grew to realize the importance of conservation and preservation. This realization is a natural progression, I think, that comes from the evolution and experience of season anglers. It comes from a deeper desire to see the preservation of what brings us joy and ensure it is there for future generations.

The bounty we enjoy today is a direct effect of the work done by the pioneers before us. I feel we have responsibility to ensure that it is left behind for the next generation to enjoy.

DFG: “Hey…What do you have in the boat? From what I see, looks like you’re over possession on the RF there buddy. Possession limit is 10 per day and three lingcod. Seems like you got 20 and in violation of the law.”

Lingcod Crack Dealer: “Hi Sir. It’s for my friends and family. I’m just trying to feed the family. I wasn’t aware I was over the limit. It’s an honest mistake. I’ll throw them back right away.”

Chovie drives by: “Warden…He’s a known poacher and lingcod crack dealer. He’s been raping these reefs at night for his boss, and selling poached fillets on the streets of the bay. Hahah Big Boss can suk my fin.”

DFG: “Is that right? We need to board your boat son. Let’s take a drive down the station for some questions and sort things out.”

The Road Ahead

The road today is unclear as it was ten years ago. Life is beautiful because we have a finite amount of time to learn the important lessons of life, enjoy the time we have here, and then it ends. When my time ends, and it will, and I’m on the other side of the fishing hook –I will smile. It’s your turn to say “FISH ON!”– The Lost Anchovy