Kayak Fishing the San Juans

Memorial Day. A day of remembering the sacrifices our soldiers have made for our country. It's also a four day weekend, and the unofficial "kick off" of summer. Fisherman across the country hit lakes, rivers, and the open ocean in search of the summer's first fish. And for this fisherman, the place was the west coast of San Juan Island, one of my favorite places on earth to fish. Not only a secluded and beautiful location, it has incredibly underrated fishing for salmon and bottom fish, especially from a kayak. Unlike the dangerous and suicide-invoking Oregon Coast the waters around the San Juan Islands tend to be a lot calmer and more relaxing.

I have fished here for years, and always caught an assortment of interesting fish. Since I don't like the combat aspect of salmon fishing and the complex regulations and danger of halibut fishing are also unappealing, I do most of my fishing for bottomfish in shallow water with light tackle out of a kayak. It's a fun and intimate way to fish, and one rarely has to deal with crowds and annoying guides.

We have friends who own a vacation home near Eagle Point, a famous fishing spot. It's a great place to stay when fishing here, as it's the closest home to a  convenient path down to one of the island's few sandy beaches. The day we arrived, I did some surf casting and caught a few tiny Staghorn Sculpins. The only parts of them that weren't tiny were their huge gill spines. However, I was mainly "warming up" for the next day's kayak fishing.

One thing I do when trying to curb my insatiable excitement for an upcoming fishing trip is rig rods. In this case, there were four to take care of. Mine, my dad's, and two more for two of our friends. They don't fish very much, so I'm acting as a "guide" of sorts. With one teeny exception.

A Trophy Charters (Friday Harbor): $95.00 per person, not including fuel surcharge

Eagle Point Charters (Anacortes): $160.00-$175.00 per person, not including fuel surcharge

Highliner Charters (Anacortes): $135.00-$1200.00 per person

Catchmore Charters (Anacortes): $170.00-$900.00 for up to six people

Outer Island Excursions (Eastsound): $125.00-$2000.00 per person

Kamran Walsh's Guiding Service (Portland): $0.00

Back to the rigging of the rods, I wanted to try a few new things out. On one rod, I put on a Buzz Bomb, the (expensive) standard lure I use when shallow water bottom fishing. I ask for them for every holiday, which usually means that I get a bunch of strange random colors. However, most work, but my favorite colors are the subdued light blues and pinks. I'm not sure what they imitate when being jigged vertically, but the movements seem to resemble those of a squid. Still, they are very expensive, making the frequent snags of bottom fishing costly annoyances. However, I also tried making my own lures to save money. I got the idea from the charter boats off the Oregon Coast. Instead of buying pre-made jigs, I make my own out of bullet sinkers and treble hooks. Although the original shine of the "Silver Bullet" comes off quickly, they still seem to work on the charter boats, with 40+ pound Lingcod having fallen prey to them. Not for me, of course. 

I wake up the next morning to a raccoon pounding on the glass window next to my air mattress situated downstairs. I throw my pillow at it and it slinks away, giving me the evil eye. I get dressed and go upstairs to find nobody else awake. The weather is nice and the water seems relatively calm, but it's always hard to tell at this distance. I look at my clock. Seven in the morning. That means we're probably not going to get on the water for five more hours. I resignedly sit down and grab a magazine as people slowly awaken.

Finally, we get out the door and are ready to hit the water! We climb down with our kayaks and prepare to launch into the frigid surf zone. Loading up our tackle, I make a few more announcements. One has to do with the proper protocol in the event of a snag. I stare at Don, one of our friends. Last year he broke my favorite fishing rod like a toothpick. Another involves legal and illegal fishing regulations. Again I stare at Don. Last year he inadvertently kept a Lingcod that was not only out of season, but about a foot below the minimum size requirement. Without any further ado, we hit the water. 

It is here where I notice the roughness of the water. Five foot swells are causing our kayaks to methodically slap the water like a slab of rancid meat against a bruised face. It's vivid imagery like this that makes the reading of my blog worthwhile. 

A few minutes after starting, I hook up. After a quick battle, I land my first fish of the day, a Black Sea Bass. To me this is a great sign. As many people know, Black Sea Bass are a type of rockfish, a group of important fish that have been in decline in the San Juan Islands area, as well as in many other places. Although Copper and Quillback Rockfish are fairly common nonetheless, the Black Sea Bass is an uncommon catch. This is unusual, as in most places Sea Bass are the most common fish caught and provide the mainstay for the fishery. Unlike most Rockfish, they are mid-water schooling fish and usually found in groups. They are voracious predators and will commonly attack prey on the surface in frenzied splashes of water. Catching one here is a sign of recovering rockfish populations, and I carefully released it after a picture.

Next was a small male Kelp Greenling, caught on one of my homemade lures. Since Rockfish are closed and Lingcod have very restrictive slot limits in the San Juans, Greenling are one of the few fish one can reliably target for dinner. However, this one was a little small, so we released it to grow up. These fish are hard fighters and come in vivid colors, so they are among my favorite to target. In addition, they lack the teeth, spines, sharp gill plates, venom, and slime of most other bottomfish, furthering the pro-Greenling argument.

Meanwhile, Don had caught and released a small Rockfish on a sandworm, and Connor (Don's son) had hooked and lost another fish. The weather was continuing to worsen, and a nasty wave nearly tipped us over as I hooked into something big. The fast-paced electric guitar music began to play as I pumped the rod furiously. In bottom fishing, you have to play the fish as hard as the line will let you, and I was working up a sweat as I worked more line than I expected back in. Eventually, the fish tired, and I could see color beneath the boat. When I saw the bluish tinge of the gills and the snakelike body, I knew that I had caught a Lingcod.

Lingcod are some of my favorite fish to target. They're cool looking, hard fighters, and some of the best eating fish in the Northwest. However, this one was too small, so I released it after a quick picture, taking care to avoid its sharp teeth. As soon as I released the Lingcod, though, a huge wave smashed into the side of the kayak, coming dangerously close to capsizing us. Although I didn't want to leave, the waves were getting worse and we needed to head back.

Although slightly disappointed, I was glad that we had at least caught some fish, and was ready to go again tomorrow. I spent the rest of that day relaxing and watching the tame wildlife that abounds on San Juan Island. Since it was May, it was still early for the famous killer whales to be seen, but there were still foxes, raccoons, deer, and the highest numbers of Bald Eagle in the continental United States.

One thing awesome about the island was that it was wild. And not like "Alaska wild" with Brown Bears and cabins situated hundreds of miles from civilization. San Juan Island was very open, with cleared fields and farmland amidst coniferous forests. The animals there are used to humans, too. I've had killer whales come up next to my kayak, as if to either say "hello" or "hey, remember what happened to that Seaworld trainer?" Deer, raccoons, and foxes will come right up to the sliding glass door in the downstairs room I sleep in, to the point of being a foot away from my face. And majestic Bald Eagles will snatch fish entrails from our lawn in the same manner as ducks to bread. It's an incredible place.

Connor, the owner's son, who is also a firm believer of the "land fish, take partial credit" rule.

All of that is great, but what really matters to me is the fishing. The next day, I woke up to glassy calm water and immediately tried to get out of the house before it would worsen. We eventually left at around ten in the morning and were ready to resume fishing as usual. The weather was a bit cloudier today, but there was no rain. Ideal fishing conditions. 

In addition there seemed to have been some sort of a storm last night, as we found an unusual  buoy of sorts washed up on the beach. It was hollow and appeared to be made either of wood or fiberglass. It might have washed over from Japan as a result of the Tsunami that occurred a few years ago. It had definitely been in the ocean for a while, as evident in the thousands of polychaete worms encrusted on the object.

Although very interesting, it was time to fish, and I was immediately amazed by the calmness in contrast to yesterday. My kayak easily cut through the glassy sheen of the water, and the clarity also astounded me. Crabs, sculpins, sea stars, and urchins could all be seen from the surface of the ocean. Soon, we rounded the corner out of the bay into the place we went yesterday, and began fishing. Although the currents were ideal; instead of taking us into the rocks, we were carried alongside them, we couldn't catch any fish. Dad hooked something for a while that had the distinct bluish tinge of a Lingcod, but it dived into the rocks and broke the line. It was frustrating, as the conditions were perfect, but we drifted and jigged the whole area until we were positive there were no fish. Eventually, upon moving slightly further from the rocks, my dad hooked up into something. Since he was close to me, I was able to land it and photograph it. It ended up being a strange species of Rockfish. Not only are the many species of Rockfish difficult to distinguish from one another, but these many species interbreed with one another, furthering the difficulty in identification. To me, this Rockfish looked like either a Copper/Quillback hybrid or a Gopher/Quillback hybrid. If not a hybrid, then it appeared to be leaning towards the Gopher Rockfish, with the broken lateral line markings. If anyone reading this knows, please comment.

Note the proximity of the venomous spines to my wrist.

We continued to work ourselves along the coast with nary a strike, save a tangle of kelp that deposited an unusual Snailfish into our boat. Being a fish geek, I was very excited about this elusive find. However, the others in my party were less enthusiastic about what looked like a two inch tadpole. Releasing the little critter, we kept paddling until we stopped at another promising site. It was here where I hooked up into an impressive Greenling, one of the bigger ones I've caught. However, upon bringing it into the boat, it exploded poop all over the inside of the kayak and over my phone, making me extremely thankful of my Otterbox. After cleaning the poop off, I took a picture.

Guess what that pink stuff on the tackle box is.

I decided to keep the fish, so I bled it in the boat by breaking a gill arch. It was pretty messy, and I could hear Don emit a squeak as blood spurted into the bottom of his new kayak. However, it was important for the retention of the fish, as bleeding is quick, painless, and keeps the meat from being coagulated with blood. Immediately after, I dropped my line down again and immediately hooked up with something bigger. It peeled line off the reel several times, and I had to work to keep it from becoming ensnared in the bottom. It turned out to be another nice Lingcod. Again, not a keeper, but still a great fighting fish and beautiful to look at.

Well, to some people.

At this point, Connor was getting discouraged by his lack of success, and wanted to head back early. I told him that he should keep trying, as he was using the right techniques and it was only a matter of time before he caught something, but he was adamant and he and Don headed back early. However, my Dad and I wanted to do a little more fishing. We had already caught three decent fish, but I was determined to hook up with more. On the way back, we made one final stop at a promising kelp bed around 50 yards from the nearest cliff. I dropped my line down and immediately hooked up.

It was another excellent Kelp Greenling, and Dad hooked up right as I was releasing it. After another quick battle, he brought in his second Rockfish, similar to the first one. 

I'm a big fan of head-on shots. These Rockfish have always astounded me in their appetites. I've seen eight-inch Rockfish engulf four inch herring, five inch lures, and baits of every variety and type. This, coupled with their deliciousness on the table, makes it no surprise that their populations are dangerously low in many places. In addition, Rockfish are very long lived, and many have lived for over a century. It would be fairly safe to say that the individual above is at least ten years old. It, like the others, was carefully released.

I missed a strike that felt pretty large a minute later, but it's always hard to tell with bottomfish, especially Lingcod. Some of the biggest come up like a pile of wet laundry and some of the smallest come close to breaking the rod. However, I caught another nice Lingcod and Dad bagged another, smaller Greenling, but I was unable to get photos because of the excessive amount of fish slime on the screen. However, I was eventually able to clean it off right as I hooked into the last fish of the day. The last fish of the day. Always the most important and resonant fish of the trip. This, of all fish, would be the one to remember. The biggest. The craziest. As I pumped it in, I thought about its identity. It could be a keeper Lingcod, I thought as I worked it in. It could be a monster Greenling, I thought as the rod jolted again and I stopped reeling to let it tire. It could be a Cabezon, a species rare this far North, I pondered as I continued to reel up. Heck, it could even be a Salmon, I thought excitedly as the last fish of the day neared the surface. It could be any one of those things.

It wasn't.