Took off for my second fishing trip this year. My contractor said he’d start the foundation in about a week, and the weather forecast looked great. That was my cue to take off for several days fishing.
I went to my favorite drag on inside waters and tried for the afternoon and into the evening. I had one nice halibut up to the boat but couldn’t manage to gaff it aboard with my new shoulder, and it shook the hook. I anchored in the familiar cove and tuned in to a Mariners game.
Next morning I was up about 330 am and out fishing by 4. I trolled all the way down the coast of Lulu Island and around the corner and no bites. I decided to keep going into the channel between Lulu and Noyes, and whamo. First a king salmon, and a while later, a chicken halibut. I went up the drag and back again, but no more fish. I decided to cross over to Noyes and fish my way to the outer coast like I did the first trip.
I put my fishing gear down when I got past Steamboat Bay and started trolling my way to the outside coast. Unlike last trip, there was not much going on on the inside drag. I didn’t even catch a ling cod, which plagued me the first trip. While I like eating them, I can keep one per day, and when they get on the trolling gear, they will ride it all day without you knowing they are on there. That’s what makes the electric downriggers so nice- I check my line alot more often now.
I turned the corner to the outside waters to test the swell, and decided it was doable. I got two more kings out there in short order, and was anchored back at the little anchorage on the inside early in the afternoon. I have care of the fish I kept, do some little projects on the boat, and drink lots more coffee. Although there’s no cell service out there, that’s not an issue in 2026. Starlink is here. For the same subscription I was paying for Sirius XM radio, I can listen to the Mariners game in the early afternoon, then the NBA or NHL finals in the evenings. I listen to ball games all day out fishing and really like that. I’m in by 8 pm. I could hear the resident whale come into the cove after I got in my bunk and read another few pages of Hand Troller. Bedtime is early when I’m on my own.
The next morning I wanted to call my cousins in Texas, just to say: “Houston: We Have a Problem.” I hung the anchor. I was only in 25 feet of water, and could see the end of the anchor chain down there descending into the kelp. I tied the anchor line off to the sampson post and tried moving every which way around the anchor with the boat, on a short leash and a longer leash. It wouldn’t budge. So, I conceded I’d need to cut the line. Luckily, the former owner of the tug had outfitted it with everything, from tools to a spare anchor, and, just as important, I actually knew where the spare anchor was on the boat. I got the spare gear out of the lazerette, rigged up the spare anchor and chain, and got them to the bow. Then I gathered a couple beach-combed buoys from the roof, and threw on a crab buoy with my name and address on it. I ran a length of ground line through the buoys and tied the line ends together, leaving a tag line to tie to the anchor line.
I let out some slack to the anchor line, tied it off again to the post. In the slack anchor line behind the post, I tied in a figure 8 loop, then tied the string of buoys to the loop, and cut the anchor line behind the loop. I tied the remaining anchor line to the spare anchor, threw the buoys overboard, and drifted away. You always want to have an anchor ready in case you get into trouble (I’m good at that).
I’ll ask a couple of the young fishermen I know in town who might be divers if they use this this anchorage and might recover the anchor for me. It wouldn’t be worth paying a diver to run all the way out there just to retrieve it versus buying another set up.
I cruised the 10 minutes to the outside. It was about 5 am now, and the swell was not too bad, so I figured I’d still get an hour or two of fishing this area to myself.
I hooked a nice fish about an hour later by a couple wash rocks that I rarely see charter boats fishing near. For some reason, this seems to be where I catch most of my fish this year. Not sure why. The rod was bent full over, and almost felt like I had a kelp ball, except for the occasional tug. Well, I’ve got another halibut on.
I’m fairly close to the surf bashing into the wash rocks, but my drift looks safe enough to stay in the deep for now. The fish comes in slowly but surely, as halibut will do. The fish stayed deep the whole time. When I finally see the flasher, I can’t make out a halibut down there. Just as the flasher is about to break the surface right next to the boat, one of the nicest kings I’ve caught in a long time cartwheels out of the water a few rod lengths away. DANG! That ain’t no halibut! I work the king to the boat and try time after time to lift the rod as high as I can and direct the nice king into the net with one arm, but can’t quite get it in the net held down there by the other arm. Luckily, the hooks on the cop car king kandy plug never caught in the net to pull it out of the fish. I finally get the king into the net and sigh with relief in the swell. What a day, already.
I think: thank goodness I took the time to shorten the leader from the flasher to the lure a tad last evening. Yesterday, the longer leader made it hard to work the smaller kings and hold the rod high enough with one arm and still be able to reach down with the net with the other arm to net the fish. I shorted the leader by about 16 inches, and that was just enough, I think, to make a difference today, especially out here on the outside in the swell.
The swell was getting bigger out there, so I returned to the anchorage at about 1030 am, where I now have a mooring buoy! The great thing about a mooring buoy is you just tie up to it. No need to set an anchor and retrieve it in the morning. I have an electric capstan that I haul the anchor with, so it’s not as hard to haul as it would be by hand, but still some work every morning.
I have an anchor alarm that sounds if the boat moves more than a certain distance measured by GPS, so if the anchor ever did break free while I’m tied off to the anchor line, the alarm would wake me in plenty of time to take action. It’s even calmer in here today than yesterday, so it’ll be really nice to sleep here again tonight and then get after it in the morning.
One thing I notice fishing in the swell alone that might make me catch more fish than in calm seas or with a crew is that I have to really pay attention to keep the boat on course, and try to stay in water deep enough to keep the gear from getting too near the bottom (although that doesn’t always matter), as this area has both rockfish and ling cod. I still go too shallow a little bit once in a while so that the gear gets near the bottom, and this isn’t all bad, as a few rockfish or ling cod is fine. But not every tack! I can’t take my eyes off my course or depth very often like I can in calm waters, so maybe I catch better when fishing is a little challenging. It sure will be nice when I have crew to check the lines, as that’s always an adventure in the swell with no steering in the back.
Back at the anchorage, I take care of the fish I kept, then just enjoy the day for a while. It’s sunny and pretty calm with a breeze – a satisfying part of the day when the fish are taken care of.
I then get going to fix the door going to the stern that broke where the hinges that seized were attached. I decide to be a maverick and go hinge-free. I put a rope handle on the top, and put barrel bolt latches on either side to keep the door in place. Works for me. What a beautiful day in this cove, and I have Whale TV to stream all day.
The resident humpback whale here has a feeding behavior I’ve not seen before. It blows bubbles in the shallows like the one we’ve seen in Kelly Cove. But this one arches his back – just from his tail to his dorsal fin (and not at the dorsal fin like they do when diving). The technique reminds me those pictures of a fox jumping high into the air with its back arched and coming down into the snow to catch a vole it hears underneath. I don’t know if the whale’s mouth was right in the bottom, but it must have been close if not, since he (I think it’s a he) was only in 10 or 15 ft of water. It’s interesting all the different ways the whales do things in different places to make a living, adapting to the type of feed and where they’re feeding on it. This whale seems like he specializes in feeding in this cove, and it will be neat if I see the same whale again here next year, if both of us make it through the winter. The whale has a bunch of bumps the size of silver dollars on its sides that I’ve never seen before on other whales. It also has a little white spot on the back of his dorsal fin. So, he should be easy to recognize. I wonder if he’ll remember me. I bet he does.
The whale feeds all around the cove, all afternoon. He seems accustomed to the boat and me and that we pose him no threat. He comes up within feet of the boat without alarm. No alarm to him, anyway. It always alarms me. If I’m sitting at the helm with the door open and a 40 foot mammal surfaces with a thundering exhale a few feet from you, that’s, like, the definition of alarm. He may get used to me being there, bobbing in the Pacific, but it never gets routine for me. What a place I live in.
I’m up and going by 330am on day 4, and so nice to just untie from the buoys without having to haul the anchor. The swell on the outside is as calm as it’s been the past few days, and I have the area all to myself for a few hours. I fish the king kandy for a couple passes with no action. So I switch to the herring aide color spoon, and BANG- fish on – right at the wash rocks again. Just as the first charter boats arrive. I land the fish and all the doubts I’ve had – Are the fish not here on this tide? Do I have the wrong lure on? Should I be fishing deeper? – just about everyday that I fish for an hour or two without a bite – evaporates. Even though the charter boats that passed saw me catching a fish, they go to their spot, mooch for a bit, then leave in short order. Maybe they got word from other boats where the fish are biting. They they roar away at 20+ kts through the swell, pushed by their twin 300 hp outboards. Me- I go 6 kts, so I’m going nowhere in a hurry. And luckily, I’m not in a hurry. Dang. It’s great not to be in a hurry. I’ll fish here for hours and probably finally catch a king if I stay long enough. That’s all I want.
Our house builder Eric texted this morning. He’s ready to start on the foundation. So time to run to town. I need to move the skiff from where I left it parked so he can get to the building pad, and I want to be there for any other assistance he might need. I make my plan for the day: I’ll fish here on the outside for a few more passes. Then I’ll move to my favorite inside drag at the tide change at about 11 am, and troll it just the one direction towards home.
I catch no more kings on the outside, and head to the inside drag. I put the gear down near, and fish towards town. I round the point and fish up the coast. It’s just about tide change now. Then whamo. Fish on. The rod is bent full over and throbbing, so it’s not another kelp monster on there. I take the rod from the holder and work the fish. I’m sure – sure I think – this has to be a halibut, but I have some doubts now after getting fooled by the king on the outside. It’s nice to be back on the inside in calm waters, so I only have to worry about the fish, and not keeping my balance, too. When I can finally see the flasher, I see that this time, it is, indeed, a halibut. And a nice one. A 50 lber. With the little spoon hook in its mouth.
After losing the halibut that was a little smaller than this one and my first day, I decide to try a different tactic: the landing net. I guess that this fish will JUST fit. I make several attempts to get it in the net. A couple times it swims right into the net, but not quite over half way so it will fall into the net, and then it gets away. On the 3rd or 4th try, it tips into the net. And I can’t believe that little hook held the big halibut. I set the fishing rod down, and reach down and grab the rim of the net with both hands and haul it over the rail and onto the back deck. Wowser.
I conk the fish, run the wash bucket line through the gills and out the mouth, cut the gills, then flop the halibut back over the side and tie the line in my hand off to the cleat to tow the fish and let it bleed well. I go forward and put the boat in gear and point it towards the deep, then put the line back out.
The boat makes a circle back towards where I caught the halibut to try that stretch again. I get the downrigger down to 70 feet, close the bail on the reel, put the rod back into the rod holder, then walk forward to the helm. I’m well off the beach circling back to the weedline where the drag is along the shore. I glance at the back deck camera….FISH ON! I put the gear in neutral and hurry back to grab the rod. Definitely a king salmon this time. Way out here in the deep.
I land this one much more easily, and put the gear back down and repeat the process. I pass the spot one more time and get another fish on! This time, it’s a shaker. I put the gear down for a 4th pass. Nothing showing this time past the spot, and I continue trolling myl way up to the anchorage cove. When I get near the cove, I think about the clatter of coho and king salmon that Bob P and I had here last year. How still full of life he was, despite his failing health. And how we had fish coming over the rail one after the other right here. I pull the gear to head for home, wondering how Bob could be gone 6 months later. There’s a little rockfish on the hook. No wonder I had no more strikes. But not going to make a sucker pass and try again.
I point the boat for town, run the RPMs up to cruising speed, click on the auto pilot, and return to the back deck. I clean the king salmon, then fillet the halibut. After watching a few videos, I’m getting a bit better at filleting halibut. It’s also nice to have freshly sharpened knives that my sister in law took to Northern Knives in Anchorage for me on her last trip to Anchorage a week ago.
When I get the 4th fillet off the halibut and into the rinse water, I grab the halibut and toss it overboard……with my wash bucket line still dangling from its mouth. I quickly back track to get it, but it has sunk before I get there.
As I cruise home, I check online to see if there’s anyone in town selling an anchor…. there is! I can’t tell from the photo how big it is, so I ask the seller if he knows the weight. But then I scroll to other photos and see 13 kg stamped on the shank. I look up what size boat that anchor would work for, and it’s a match. He seller then mentions he also has some chain. For the same price, I ask? He adds $25 to the price. Still a great deal – and convenient, right here in town – at $150! I’ll be by to see it when I get back, I text him.
When I get home, I get all the day’s catch taken care of on the tailgate of the truck at the cabin. I take the fish scraps and toss them down the slope to the beach. Soon, seemingly out of nowwhere, a dozen eagles swoop in. Along with a couple crows. My neighbor has them trained well from his fish scraps from fishing and meat scraps from his taxidermy work. As I get back up to the house, I remember: the anchor! I tell the seller I’ll be right out. I find the cash bag, count out $150, fold it up, and put it in the chest pocket of my overalls and jump in the car.
I meet the seller in Klawock, hand him the wad of cash, and he helps me put the anchor and chain into the Leaf. When I return home, I see a fiver on the floor… uh oh. Did that fall out of the bag or the wad of cash for the anchor? I immediately text the seller to ask if the money I gave him was $5 short. It was! He said he thought HE’D dropped it somewhere himself! I’ll be out with it tomorrow, I tell him.
It’s my eldest niece’s birthday today, my wife reminds me. The niece is in town from Anchorage for a week, and her mom and dad had her out fishing today. They passed me on the way in and sent a photo of a nice king she caught. I remember I have a jar of salal jam on the shelf, so take that for her birthday gift. My Alaskan nieces appreciate home made stuff like this as they grew up eating it and now do it themselves. And the maple syrup I send them annually from Pat and Sean in Bolivar.
I run over to drop off the jam, and my niece is just getting back from a hike with her dogs. I go inside and talk with all of them about their day fishing and my fishing trip. I luck out that they haven’t eaten yet, and they of course invite me to the table with them. Fresh white king salmon caught by my niece this afternoon and salad. A storybook ending.
