Mavericks Lingcod
Fishing the Mavericks Reef.
Story/Photos/Videos by Marc Owerfeldt

Early into the session I ran out of bait. Those damn croakers and jacksmelt made short work of my tray of frozen anchovies which I had carefully prepared to mooch for salmon. This salmon fishing day wasn't going well, a change of plan was in order.


Posted on September 19, 2020

Koji was already there when I pulled into the Half Moon Bay parking lot. We met at 6:30, just after sunrise, for a relaxing session of salmon fishing right in front of the harbor. We hadn't fished from a kayak in a while due to air pollution from wild fires and also because of the emotional energy the previous Bluefin Tuna adventure had taken, and felt rusty. The setup took a bit longer than usual. From my side I had some new gear to contend with, especially the foredeck bridge was a big change to my usual outfit.

When we launched there were many other kayaks in and around the water. Half Moon Bay has become Kayak Fishing Central. The sport really took off over the past years and during this horrible COVID pandemic it received an additional boost. Kayak fishing is one of the few remaining things we can truly enjoy these days.

The morning was windless, the water flat and soon we were following the seabirds in hope to find bait schools and those that feed on them, namely salmon.

Scouting for salmon while common murres and other seabirds were giving a concert for us.

We mooched around the very large flock of common murres and caught a few croakers, the salmon bite remained elusive. The beauty about this late season trip was that Koji and I had our freezers filled to the brim with halibut, salmon, lingcod, wolf eel, thresher shark and even bluefin tuna. We were extremely relaxed and just happy to be on the water.

I was running through my tray of anchovies too fast. "Where are the anchovies?", I thought to myself. We retraced out paddle strokes back to the mouth of the harbor where I had spotted the only chovie-looking bait ball. I had my sabiki ready but we never found the bait ball again.

Without bait my salmon fishing had come to an early ending and a new plan was in order. I remembered that at this time of the year large schools of jacksmelt were roaming the deper waters a bit futher out. With a live jacksmelt I should be able to target halibut, lingocd and other predators. While I paddled out Koji stayed back continuing with his quest for salmon.

Near the Southeast Reef I came across a huge school of jacksmelt. I dipped my sabiki rig and immediately hooked six of them, and unfortunately ALL AT THE SAME TIME. This was a problem since I used a light sabiki for anchovies with a 2 ounce sinker at the bottom. Jacksmelt are strong swimmers for their size and made a big mess of the sabiki rig. I managed to land the sixpack, but the sabiki was done.

Koji came over and stored the jacksmelt in his bait torpedo to keep them alive as best he could.

We fished around the Southeast reef for a little while before I suggested my big idea of the day. "Let's go over to Mavericks. There's an MPA, an area we can't fish, but we can stay right on the outside and fish for something big ‐ I know it's there!"

Baiting a live jacksmelt.

It wasn't very far, perhaps a mile. Eventually I saw signs of activity near the bottom and it was time to fish again. "What if we hook a Pacific Halibut?", I asked Koji, "Would you know if it's in season?". "I could look it up", he replied. Oh, the beauty of fishing handsfree from a Hobie, I sometimes forget that using your phone while out there is even possible.

We baited our precious jacksmelt and dropped them to the bottom. Within 10 seconds I was on. At first it felt like a big snag, the line firmly attached to something 100 feet below me, but then it moved and I could feel the weight. This was a big one! I looked over to Koji and he was on, too, virtually at the same time.

It was too good to be true after the slow morning! Oh, what a joy to fight those fish!

My ling was a handful for this light mooching rod. She came off the bottom but made several strong runs back to the seafloor. Fortunately, she never managed to reach a cave or other rocky structure that could have snapped the fairly skinny 25# leader.

Return on investment: A lingcod from the Mavericks reef.
Koji taking a good look at his beautiful lingcod.
It's getting tight in my sea kayak.

The wind had come up. The drift was fast but we kept moving into the wind and back to the initial spot. Perhaps 30 minutes later I was on another nice lingcod. After playing it for a while it got snagged on kelp and came off the hook. "Nevermind, always good to leave something for the future", I thought.

The wind speed increased and we decided to go on a long drift back to the Southeast reef in hope to find a halibut bite. The bottom structure was just right but the bite never occured.

The hours were passing, a good breeze was blowing from NW and all other kayaks had retreated to the safety of the harbor. Eventually, we also moved back towards the mouth of the harbor. Inside the harbor folks were flossing for salmon. Every salmon ending up on the inside must go through this narrow passage. Koji had a few anchovies left and we tried our luck but to no avail. The VHF radio had gone silent for a while. Suddenly there was this voice. A rather annoyed sounding voice I might say.

Thorsten, do you copy? We didn't see him but his wife made the call. She was with her kids at the harbor and din't sound too happy. "When are you coming back, Thorsten?!". "Half-past-one", he replied in a thick German accent and proper German grammar that I know so well. Oh boy, he was in trouble. Then his kids needed to know "Daddy, did you catch a fish?". "Not yet", he replied. "When are you back?", the kids needed to know. "When the sun goes down", said Thorsten. Frosty silence, then his kid said "You're joking, right dad?". A while later Thorsten appeared at the jaws of the harbor in his green kayak. "Thorsten, do you copy? When are you back? It's windy and salty here". His wife was back on the radio. "10 minutes". "Ok, over & out." Poor bloke, it sounded like his relationship was over & out and that the kids would stay with her.

My 37-incher, gutted at sea and draped across the foredeck.

For us the salmon bite never happened and we went back to shore, stowed away our boats and walked to the flossing scene right across from the parking lot.

span class="lead">This fishery is often villainized, the ethics and regulations around it aren't exactly clear and/or palatable to everyone for reasons that could easily fill an entire book. Koji and I decided to take a closer look.

Salmon flossing in the Half Moon Bay harbor.

It is surprising to see that so many fishing lines and so many bobbers were laid out in such close quarters. There was a silent atmosphere of anticipation. Pure concentration. While we were standing right behind the line of flossers and examined the fish cleaning station a salmon was hooked. In a blink of an eye all other lines disappeared and the fish was pulled hard to the shore where the net man was ready to receive it. Perhaps a 15 pounder, a phenomenal catch from knee-deep waters. As soon as that had occurred all other lines were flying back out, placing their tiny bobbers in a room sized area, and to my amazement without any tangles or other issues. "There's definitely a lot of skill and discipline involved to pull this off", Koji noted.

All the bobbers were concentrated in a small area in this shallow part of the harbor. Intense focus laid upon them.

We watched the fisherman clean his catch at the fish cleaning station on the corner. Despite being on a spawning run the salmon was in good shape and the meat looked pristine. There are countless different ways to catch a fish (and we will never know all of them).