I'm not sure, but I think I got manipulated. I tend to agree with Nate Baker that a paddy trip is a long ride in a wet suit, but with everyone getting into this paddy frenzy down off San Diego, I put my name on Joe Nguyen's list, and my name was drawn for a trip today. I was really looking forward to not having to mess with my boat, and not having any responsibility for customer satisfaction. But then he got skunked Wednesday, and suggested that we might be better off going on my boat out of Dana Harbor. Hmmm? Now its my boat, and my responsibility.
Joe had an absolute requirement to be back at the dock no later than 3:45 PM, so we agreed to meet at 5 AM, and Volker Hoehne, President of the SD Freedivers, was to come along and lend some gravitas to the proceeding.
I arrived at the harbor at 4:40, and was immediately reminded why I don't go on weekends, and shouldn't even go on Fridays when the dorado are running. The place was a zoo, with people learning how to back up trailers and launch, others doing maintenance on engines and outdrives trying to get them running, and an employee of the marina driving around helping people find a place to park tow vehicles and trailers without taking too many extra spaces.
We finally got launched and parked, and idled past the bait barge, glad that we were not in the huge line of boats waiting to buy bait.
We had printed out Terrafin charts of temperature and chorophyl and tried to use them as a guide. We started by running to the 267. There was no wind, but it was rough as hell with two different swells. Then we turned for the 277. In spite of the fact that its really hard to spot paddies in conditions like that, the guys were hard core, standing on each side of the boat hanging on to the rail on each side of the cabin roof, and they spotted a lot of paddies and jumped on almost all of them. The problem was that water was green as hell, with vis of about 10 feet, and they were more likely to shoot each other than a fish. I couldn't get up enough speed to get good gas mileage without loosening our teeth, so it looked like it was shaping up to be costly. So after getting about half way from the 267 to the 277, I turned right for the East End of Catalina, hoping to get a bit better angle to the waves. Finally we broke out into blue water, and Joe finally saw one dorado.
I knew something was up when he turned away from the paddy and started swimming faster with his gun extended. He was pointed straight at Volker's float and I was afraid he was about to shoot it for target practice, but the shaft went under the float and I saw the dorado flash.
He immediately saw that he had a poor shot, just under the top, so he shouted to Volker to put a second shot into it, and he let it have as much line as it wanted so it wouldn't tear of. He said that Volker had to dive to about 60 feet, but he got the second shot into it. The photo shows both of them with the fish since it was a team effort.
They kept inviting me to suit up, and I kept playing the gracious host. There was no way I wanted to ride around in a wet wet suit until they proved to me that it was worth it.
Finally, they suggested that we just run up to the lee of the island, anchor, and have a nice dive in calm conditions, and even I would have no excuse for not suiting up. We did it.
When we dropped anchor, you could see the sand bottom clearly at 30 feet, and it was just beautiful. I followed Joe out into deeper water, and on my second drop, and I was hanging at about 25 feet when a school of about a dozen yellowtail come by. Joe had been preaching the virtues of big guns all day, so I relented and was carrying my Ono gun, and it was probably a good thing. The fish might have been out of range for my hybrid. As soon as I saw that I had connected, I hauled ass for the surface, putting all the pressure I could on the float line, but there was no way I could stop the fish and still get up for a breath. Finally, the fish seemed to have stopped, probably tied up in deep kelp. I pulled up all the slack I could until the line was vertical and clipped the float line to a tuna clip on the float.
After I relaxed a bit, I dove down the line. I was at 45 feet and the swivel between the float line and shooting line was still below me, and then the 25 feet of shooting line disappeared into some low but thick kelp. I knew this was out of the old man's league. Joe came swimming up and said he would get it out for me, but when he came back up, he said it was deep and the fish was really tied up. Volker took a look and concurred. They seemed willing to try, but I didn't want anyone dying for a fish that I couldn't reach, so I went back to the boat for a tank.
When I arrived at the fish, I was at 73 feet. When I tried to grab it, it was still hot and running around. It would have been very dangerous for a freediver, and he might have been wrapped in the kelp by the fish.
After I boated the fish, it was time to head for home. The guys stood out there looking for paddies, but didn't see anything but a few small ones, which they checked for nothing. Just as I was saying that we really did need to head home if we were to get Joe to his appointment, they saw one more big paddie with lots of birds, about 11 miles off the point, so of of course they had to check it. As soon as Volker jumped in, he realize he forgot his weight belt, but he pressed on. Apparently a yellowtail swam up to him, turned sideways and posed, and he stoned it. There were 5 fish total, and Joe soon had one too.
Now we really did need to haul ass, so I took off fast while the guys got fish off shafts, showered, and tried to sort out the mess.
When we hit the dock, Joe ran to get his car, and Volker and I carried all his stuff up to the head of the dock so he could load it and run.
By the time I dealt with the crowd and got the boat washed, it took two more hours. Next time, Joe is washing while I drink beer.
We saw Beek at the dock, but I'm embarrassed to say that I was so preoccupied that I don't know what he got. Sorry Beek for not having more time to chat. I hope you did better than we did.
So OK, I went paddy hopping against my better judgement, but the only fish I got myself was a traditional fish, at the island with the boat at anchor. But it was nice to see the other guys get a few.
Joe had an absolute requirement to be back at the dock no later than 3:45 PM, so we agreed to meet at 5 AM, and Volker Hoehne, President of the SD Freedivers, was to come along and lend some gravitas to the proceeding.
I arrived at the harbor at 4:40, and was immediately reminded why I don't go on weekends, and shouldn't even go on Fridays when the dorado are running. The place was a zoo, with people learning how to back up trailers and launch, others doing maintenance on engines and outdrives trying to get them running, and an employee of the marina driving around helping people find a place to park tow vehicles and trailers without taking too many extra spaces.
We finally got launched and parked, and idled past the bait barge, glad that we were not in the huge line of boats waiting to buy bait.
We had printed out Terrafin charts of temperature and chorophyl and tried to use them as a guide. We started by running to the 267. There was no wind, but it was rough as hell with two different swells. Then we turned for the 277. In spite of the fact that its really hard to spot paddies in conditions like that, the guys were hard core, standing on each side of the boat hanging on to the rail on each side of the cabin roof, and they spotted a lot of paddies and jumped on almost all of them. The problem was that water was green as hell, with vis of about 10 feet, and they were more likely to shoot each other than a fish. I couldn't get up enough speed to get good gas mileage without loosening our teeth, so it looked like it was shaping up to be costly. So after getting about half way from the 267 to the 277, I turned right for the East End of Catalina, hoping to get a bit better angle to the waves. Finally we broke out into blue water, and Joe finally saw one dorado.
I knew something was up when he turned away from the paddy and started swimming faster with his gun extended. He was pointed straight at Volker's float and I was afraid he was about to shoot it for target practice, but the shaft went under the float and I saw the dorado flash.
He immediately saw that he had a poor shot, just under the top, so he shouted to Volker to put a second shot into it, and he let it have as much line as it wanted so it wouldn't tear of. He said that Volker had to dive to about 60 feet, but he got the second shot into it. The photo shows both of them with the fish since it was a team effort.
They kept inviting me to suit up, and I kept playing the gracious host. There was no way I wanted to ride around in a wet wet suit until they proved to me that it was worth it.
Finally, they suggested that we just run up to the lee of the island, anchor, and have a nice dive in calm conditions, and even I would have no excuse for not suiting up. We did it.
When we dropped anchor, you could see the sand bottom clearly at 30 feet, and it was just beautiful. I followed Joe out into deeper water, and on my second drop, and I was hanging at about 25 feet when a school of about a dozen yellowtail come by. Joe had been preaching the virtues of big guns all day, so I relented and was carrying my Ono gun, and it was probably a good thing. The fish might have been out of range for my hybrid. As soon as I saw that I had connected, I hauled ass for the surface, putting all the pressure I could on the float line, but there was no way I could stop the fish and still get up for a breath. Finally, the fish seemed to have stopped, probably tied up in deep kelp. I pulled up all the slack I could until the line was vertical and clipped the float line to a tuna clip on the float.
After I relaxed a bit, I dove down the line. I was at 45 feet and the swivel between the float line and shooting line was still below me, and then the 25 feet of shooting line disappeared into some low but thick kelp. I knew this was out of the old man's league. Joe came swimming up and said he would get it out for me, but when he came back up, he said it was deep and the fish was really tied up. Volker took a look and concurred. They seemed willing to try, but I didn't want anyone dying for a fish that I couldn't reach, so I went back to the boat for a tank.
When I arrived at the fish, I was at 73 feet. When I tried to grab it, it was still hot and running around. It would have been very dangerous for a freediver, and he might have been wrapped in the kelp by the fish.
After I boated the fish, it was time to head for home. The guys stood out there looking for paddies, but didn't see anything but a few small ones, which they checked for nothing. Just as I was saying that we really did need to head home if we were to get Joe to his appointment, they saw one more big paddie with lots of birds, about 11 miles off the point, so of of course they had to check it. As soon as Volker jumped in, he realize he forgot his weight belt, but he pressed on. Apparently a yellowtail swam up to him, turned sideways and posed, and he stoned it. There were 5 fish total, and Joe soon had one too.
Now we really did need to haul ass, so I took off fast while the guys got fish off shafts, showered, and tried to sort out the mess.
When we hit the dock, Joe ran to get his car, and Volker and I carried all his stuff up to the head of the dock so he could load it and run.
By the time I dealt with the crowd and got the boat washed, it took two more hours. Next time, Joe is washing while I drink beer.
We saw Beek at the dock, but I'm embarrassed to say that I was so preoccupied that I don't know what he got. Sorry Beek for not having more time to chat. I hope you did better than we did.
So OK, I went paddy hopping against my better judgement, but the only fish I got myself was a traditional fish, at the island with the boat at anchor. But it was nice to see the other guys get a few.
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