10/17/2026
Andrew Googled me up and called me direct - it's the way! I will credit him for finding me even though the only SEO I've ever done was to just go have adventures and then share stories, photos and videos. I've always figured that my marketing effort is weak, but its "organic" nature has worked well to bring the right kind of people to me. This is what ended up happening with Andrew.
My guy was looking to fly into Shelter Cove on his vintage Piper Comanche, kayak fish for the day, and fly out of town before sunset. He was coming from Chico, so it wouldn't be a long journey. With the ocean and wind forecast looking good for our day, the main threat, we determined, would be fog on the short runway at the Cove. We spent a little time corresponding about the logistics, I offered up some resources in terms of live cams at the Cove, and Andrew actually told me that AI was very helpful in analyzing whether fog would be likely or not, based on conditions the day before across the north state.
We were set to meet up at 7AM at the airstrip, and it's getting late in the year - it was pitch black when I got to the ramp right before 630AM! I got all the gear laid out, and for it being 2 hours before a 3.5' low tide, the ramp seemed pretty inundated. The south swell was going off a bit, amplifying the effect, and maybe that Kelvin Wave was moving through!
Once I had the yaks and all the gear ready, I drove up to watch my guest fly past and then approach for landing from the northwest, as there was a very slight breeze out of the south. A beautiful touch down and short taxi, and we were soon shaking hands, grabbing his gear and making our way back to the ramp. Gotta love the Cove, where I didn't think twice about leaving a few thousand dollars worth of gear sitting on the beach while I picked up my guy.
As we drove down the hill toward the launch, I tried to envision and imagine what it felt like for Andrew to be getting picked up and shuttled to waiting kayaks and preparing to get out on the water with a guide he just met - especially since there was no one else preparing to go out. He's been to Shelter Cove before, but never offshore. He's also new to kayak fishing, but he has lots of past fishing and water experience. As I considered all of this, I realized that I too was in a position of special anticipation - feeling a distinct elation at the prospect and honor of facilitating this adventure. I try to make a conscious effort to focus on these unique and fleeting aspects of such scenarios, where I'm meeting someone who has already entrusted me with and is ready to pay me for leading them through a great day. I take this privilege and responsibility very seriously, and it's my goal as a guide to achieve a very high level of engagement and joy on each trip.
Andrew and I got suited up and went through an orientation with the kayaks and the fishing gear; with me showing how we'd use the equipment to safely and efficiently find success. He took to everything quickly, and soon we were launched and heading out onto a nice ocean. A few powerboaters were just getting going too, but it was a light day at the Cove, especially compared to the zoo of out-of-towners who showed up for the salmon bite a couple months back. This day, with just the locals around, certainly represented my preference for crowd size.
We started out along the Humboldt Napali, as I like to call it - slow trolling the shoreline as the sun started to peek over Chemise Mountain to the east. The bite was especially slow, but the water was nice, the weather was excellent, and the two of us enjoyed lively conversation where we came to know that we have a lot in common in terms of relationships, adult kids, work experience and moral outlook - I'll use that term instead of "political views" and leave it at that!
With nothing but a couple of light nibbles at that point, we flipped a U-turn at No-Pass and started our way back toward the harbor. It wasn't long before Andrew had a strong bite, and a minute later he had his first ever kayak catch to the boat - an underling that couldn't be retained, but that fish broke the ice and had us both smiling.
With the nearshore shakedown run complete, which is a great way for me to introduce someone to the kayak and the fishing techniques as well as determining whether seasickness may become a factor, we were ready to head toward the reef. The forecast was very good, calling for NW winds at 5-10 knots and swell out of the NW 4' @ 12 seconds. Those kind of numbers usually mean it'll be very flat out front of Point Delgada, but you always need to be ready for the ocean to show you something that the forecast didn't call for.
Andrew did great with what turned out to be a somewhat sloppy sea state out at the point. The SE to NW drift was doing its usual thing, and a bit of rodeo style swell riding had me watching closely for any discomfort on the part of my guest. As I've expressed before, we all hope to fish on the lake-like days, but the open ocean is more likely to show you some wind waves and slop than it is to lay down for very long - and it almost always looks way nicer from shore than it is out there!
I checked in with Andrew regularly, and he was 100% Go on his comfort level, lack of queasiness, and enthusiasm for what we were doing. With some medium herring running under B2-Squid High Tech Hoochies, I knew it wouldn't be too long before we found what we were looking for.
The slow bite did continue even out on the rocks, but it wasn't too long before Andrew got my attention from several yards behind me: "Fish on!" I swiftly turned and paddled toward him, clearing my line as I glided in next to him. Starting the day, I'd neglected to tell my guest that any time he hooked a fish, I'd bring my gear in and get up on him with the net ready. So when Andrew looked up and asked, "are you going to net it?" I think he was caught off guard by how quickly I was in position, holding his bow in one hand and my net aloft in the other. Andrew brought a legal lingcod up, I scooped it, and we were now celebrating our first keeper.
Thank you, Lingcod! The Season of Gratitude continues to develop, and I'm very glad that I have made a conscious effort to not only dedicate the entire year to being grateful, but also to let that sentiment and commitment grow and thrive at every opportunity.
Andrew watched and learned as I explained how immediately bleeding the catch assures a much higher quality for the meat, and I think that he appreciated how I thanked the fish as I bled it out; having taken its life while also displaying the reverence and respect that I feel for the animals.
It turns out that openly showing gratitude is a strong catalyst for others around you to do the same. The root of the emotion here has to do with empathy, ultimately. I acknowledge the life and energy of the wild animal that I have pursued and dispatched, and I am dedicated to honoring it far beyond the stories and photos or even the meals that it will provide. On a meaningful level, my intention is to live in a way that knows, cares about and protects the different species that I follow, and I feel that I am obligated to speak in their favor.
As the hours passed, the bite never did pick up to what I know the Cove usually produces, but that was fine. Andrew and I enjoyed our time, and in the end we landed 7 lingcod between us, with not a rockfish to be touched all day. That's how it goes sometimes, and that's just fine, when you're aiming to learn a new way, challenge yourself, take in and interact with the wildlife and magnificent scenery around us, and discover things that you maybe didn't expect to - that's what we're doing out there, and the fish add greatly to it.
We were fortunate to have whales around us a few times during our session, and the seals and lions were more numerous than usual - even rafting up in a group of around two dozen at the lighthouse point. The pelicans passed over us in formation as the murres squawked and whistled, with cormorants and seagulls filling any gaps in the action.
As we made our way in to land on the mid-afternoon ramp, the usual assemblage of locals was there, each enjoying the Cove in their own way. I put the gear up, we got our Stringer Display shot, and we finished up at the Tailgate Fillet Station, where even the guide got to take home a fish.
When I drove Andrew back up the hill and dropped him, his gear and some added lingcod weight off at his Comanche, our hand shake to end the day had a warmth and a celebratory feel to it that represented success and joy - not just for the catches, but for the time spent sharing life experiences and making new ones, and for the gratitude that helps to define the essence of every trip.
I hope to execute and write about another trip with Andrew soon, and I will be ready if you decide to pursue such an opportunity as well.
