A Yellow Tale
by drew clark

When I got to the beach at 4:30 am the two of them were already gearing up. I dumped the eXtreme on the sand and unloaded next to them. After I'd set up the kayak I went and found parking, upon returning to the beach I saw that we were joined by Jim Sammons and Matt Moyer. We waited for everyone to get ready and launched into the dark, stepping over the ankle high surf. I'd never paddled in the dark, always fearing it would bring on seasickness. Without a horizon to focus on I figured I would quickly lose my balance and be turned around and paddling in in time to see the sun rise. My suspicions were unfounded, thankfully, and we paddled, talked, joked and paddled some more out to the reserve bouy. The greyest hint of light was tainting our perfectly dark sky by the time we found the first kelp stringers outside the marine preserve and we began dropping our sabikis. We didn't find willing mackeral to partake of the tiny-hooked offering until the grey turned lighter and we could see into the water with the ambient light. We began hooking up, one here or there, we found them deep and before long it was wide open on spanish macks. We all loaded up, I had 40 in my tank when we finally quit.

Ok, not all of us loaded up. Mark Olsen, kayak pro that he is, couldn't buy a bait outta the ocean. He had plenty of offers from his traveling companions but he diligently bobbed a sabiki up and down, pretending not hear the jabs. Eventually he scored a single mackeral and we all took off for deeper waters in celebratory whoops and a faulty rendition of "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow".

Jim and I paddled side-by-side for about a quarter of an hour, trading stories and commenting on one anothers boats, my spins in the surf too easily, his is a bathtub-wet ride, etc. We found ourselves in about 80' of water and Jim said, ok, I'm putting in a bait, we're close enough. I saw stringers here and there but we were out of the thick of the kelp and in what appeared to be a nice little pocket, fishy and inviting. Figuring that Jim does this for a living I, too, put out a healthy mackeral on a 3/0 circle hook. Clicker armed and rod loaded into the port forward flushmount we were off paddling again, much slower this time. About 15 minutes into this Moyer (Fish Destroyer) pulled up next to me. He assured me that today would be the day I got my first yellowtail. I took this info as a message of doom, of course. 2 minutes later my rod starts singing what many have described as "that familiar tune", I can say that while it was music to my ears, the harmony was virtually unknown on my own rods. I lifted the rod from the mount, careful to let the line run free and keep things cool and easy. I counted to 5, then 8, then reached 10 and then I waited two more seconds for good luck and popped the Newell in gear. The tip bent under the strain and the boat began to twist around on the new axis. I started cranking as fast and hard as I could and found a healthy resistance - fish on! Wait! Crap! Fish off! There was no weight on the rod anymore, as fast as it had happened it was gone. I wound and wound as fast as I could and felt the weight again - the fish was charging me. Renewed spirits put my wrist in overdrive as I cranked and lifted the rod tip up, the fish was directly under my boat now and POP, he was gone for sure this time. I reeled in my hook.

Circle hooks 0, yellowtail 1.

Right after I lost that fish Moyer hooked up and brought in a cuda and this encouraged us to keep moving. We could see the fleet forming now, it was about 6:30am. As we continued to cruise onward I was zinged by two more fish, both ignoring the rules about circle hooks and counting to 10 etc. This was getting frustrating but all the attempts on my baits' lives kept my outlook positive.

We rolled into the center of the fleet and saw Pat Holmes bendo, and the guys in the powerboat next to him were bent. And about 7 rods out of the 894 sticking off the back of the Dolphin were hooked up, too. We all got excited. I paddled around to the east of Pat, headed north when my bait took off faster than any of the previous. I held the rod and counted out loud "1 yellowtail, 2 yellowtail, 3 yellowtail" and I noted that the line was absolutely screaming off the spool, this fish was fast and determined. When I reached 9 yellowtail I put my finger on the button and eased it forward. *Click* it went into gear and I waited to feel the weight before moving. The weight was ... significant. I bent the rod upwards at about a 45 degree angle and noticed that my drags were not doing much. I had them fairly well buttoned down, too. In fact, it seemed that the rate of line leaving the spool was almost identical to that prior to engagement. This was a serious fish. I looked at my line, confident in the capacity, then I looked north where the fish was heading, all clear. I could do this. Big yellow, really big and a clear, open ocean to follow him. I cranked down on the drag and POP, it was over. I'm not convinced it wasn't a sea lion but I like to think it was a homeguard brute yellow.

Now I'm hurting. Circle hooks 0, yellowtail 4.

I cut the hook off my line and tied on a large megabait iron, mackeral pattern. I threw out the jigmaster with a 4/0 circle hook and a real mackeral without much confidence in it. My plan is to drop the iron to the bottom (110') and then troll the iron deep and the mackeral flylined out north around the fleet and then back into the crowd on the outside. As I watched the iron pixelize down my sonar screen it stopped dead at 80'. Instincts are amazing and I immediately threw the reel in gear and began cranking like hell. The rod instantly bent towards China and I set the hook with all my might. This is a brand new seeker inshore series and I put a wicked bend in that sucker. The rod tip seized and dove into the water and line began rolling off the spool. This one was for real.

I pumped when I could but mostly I just held on. 10 minutes went by and my arm was burning, I thought about an news report NPR had broadcast the day before about lactic acid buildup and the new controversy on whether or not it was what caused the burning sensation. I didn't care much for the notion that it played little part in muscle fatigue at this point. Daydreams of the G Loomis Backbounce rod dashed through my head, that rod has some power! It lacks the grace of this inshore but that wouldn't trouble me in this situation. Right, back to reality. Moyer is next to me coaching me along "DON'T YOU HIGHSTICK THAT B!#@H!" and "Got your gaff ready". Oh crap, I've never gaffed anything in my life.

The fish came up and it was tired, thank God, so was I. He lolled on the surface and then made another dash but was back in no time. I swiped with the virgin gaff and nearly caught my own leg. Matt stifled a laugh. I thought about what I needed to do and then shot it again, right in the belly, between the filets and ahead of the guts, it sank cleanly in. Hoisting it into my lap gave me another "now what" moment but I had my game clip behind the seat. Reaching under the gill plate I grabbed the ruby red foliage and yanked. Blood sprayed onto my shirt, PFD and sunglasses. Pushing the gameclip up through the plate and out the mouth I snapped it shut and tore out another pair of gills. I dunked the fish up and down in the water as blood roiled out. Heeeere sharky sharky.

Megabait 1, yellowtail 0.

In the hatch he went, high fives with Matt and I sat back to rest. Two minutes later I had the megabait sailing out, to the bottom and back up. Barracuda were willing to play but no more yellows. Jim landed two, Dante (who we'd run into) had a double and landed both, Moyer caught a baby yellow and Rhino showed off with 4 and a legal halibut that went 14#. Matt snapped photos of my fish and I headed in at 9:30, on my way to work.

When I got home I weighed it on the digital scales we use for our tournaments - it came in at 15.54#. Not too small, not awesomely huge, either. Iced it down in the garage all day and then fileted it out, some for me, some for the in-laws and some for friends. It was an amazing feeling and one that I hope to repeat soon and often. I learned a great deal fishing with experience and it's a chance we should all seize when it affords itself.