Before the 20th century, anglers considered billfish too dangerous for sport. Legend painted these majestic fish as murderous swordsmen. Tales of commercial hand liners losing their vessels to the bill of a provoked fish or, worse, taking one in the chest began man's early fascination with billfish.
Then, in 1903, boatman Harry Wylie managed the unthinkable when he caught the first marlin on rod and reel. He took some heat for the catch as no photographs were taken and the fish wasn't officially weighed, but historians believe he did in fact land it. Three days after the catch, Wylie secured his place in history when he took Edward Llwellyn out targeting marlin. The two men came back to shore with a 125-pound stripey.
The catch created a major commotion along the shores of Avalon, a small town on the southeast side of Santa Catalina Island, off Southern California. Wylie's marlin lit a fire within anglers as word began to spread about the marlin's acrobatic fight and pugnacious nature. A new fishery quickly emerged.
Over 100 years later, much has changed for California's top marlin fishermen, but many elements remain the same. The fishery has waned in sheer numbers, but the top anglers fishing around Catalina take advantage of every opportunity and represent some of the most dedicated crews in the sport. You better be good out West, or you're gonna get skunked.
A History of Innovation
For generations, California anglers have raised the bar when it comes to designing tackle, rods and reels and fine-tuning techniques. Anything that made finding or catching billfish easier and more effective soon earned its way onto the most productive boats in the local fleet and eventually across the entire country. Companies like AFTCO and Sevenstrand emerged in the 1950s with advances such as roller guides, aluminum butts, improved terminal tackle and leaders, and cutting-edge lure designs.
Stand-up fishing became popular in California long before it caught on along the East Coast. Rod companies began making blanks shorter with more flex at the tip. Belts and harnesses appeared on the market, and Cal Sheets started converting big-game reels to two-speed fighting machines for anglers battling big tuna out of San Diego. West Coast tactics have revolutionized the tackle world, but the movement started decades before the boom of stand-up fishing. The men who used linen line and hickory poles put Catalina on the map.
Members of the Tuna Club of Avalon, the oldest fishing club in the country, began changing the world of fishing as early as the late 1800s. These forward-thinking anglers used kites and side-planing sleds to get baits away from their boats and present them along the surface to bluefin tuna, affectionately called "leaping tuna" in those days. Club members wrote a set of angling rules that helped measure an angler's ability by his skill and not necessarily his luck. The International Game Fish Association would later adopt the same set of rules as its founding principles.
"Anglers had to adopt these policies to give the fish a better chance," says Tuna Club historian and IGFA trustee Michael Farrior. "The rules leveled the playing field and gave the sport a new sense of competition."
The legacy that the Tuna Club started 100 years ago continues today as anglers keep reinventing the wheel and elevating their game.
Tops in their Field
When I met Ron Kawaja, owner of Pelagic offshore clothing and a lifelong Southern California angler, he talked my ear off about the aptitude of the local hot guns. Growing up in the Northeast, I understood that West Coasters don't necessarily chase numbers; they just want to find a few fish. While 15 or 20 marlin releases might equal an incredible day on the water in some parts of the world, in California, that's one hell of a season.
I scheduled a trip to Catalina in late September to see for myself if Kawaja was preaching the truth about the skill level of the West Coast's top crews. I quickly found out that the boats that routinely win the large tournaments off Catalina Island stack up evenly with some of the best boats in the world.
"The people that do best in Catalina have the ability to sight fish," says Capt. Steve Lassley, who runs the After Midnight, one of the most successful boats on the West Coast. "They can spot fish in the binoculars from miles away, they're quick to react, and have guys that cast right on the money. You've got to have the whole package."
The striped marlin bite doesn't last long off Catalina, and usually culminates in one or two weeks of hot fishing. The fish may begin to appear as early as June and stay as late as October, but the best action typically occurs in mid- to late September. If the currents and prevailing westerly winds bring in the 70-degree blue water and large schools of bait, odds are the marlin will follow. However, El Niņo, La Niņa and other weather patterns play a huge role in this fishery. As weather patterns change, so do the major currents, which the marlin follow like a highway along the coast.
Some believe the striped marlin bite is cyclical, especially since the fishing is feast or famine. Five or six abundant years may be followed by five or six lean ones. In 2002, the fishing proved dismal. The blue water never appeared, and the entire fleet reported only 30-odd catches.
It is believed that striped marlin migrate into California waters from the west and then move south along the Baja Peninsula. This makes the commercial fishing and longlining presence along the striped marlin migration route, especially in hot spots like Mexico's Mag Bay, a constant concern.
"The fishing continues to get more and more challenging each year," says John "JD" Doughtey, owner of JD's Big Game Tackle on Balboa Island (www.jdsbiggame.com). "Anglers look to technology to help them gain the upper hand. That technology comes in the way of good binoculars, weather and temperature satellite imaging, the Internet, radar and onboard electronics."
Anglers study the movements of the Davis and California currents, looking for current breaks, ideal temperatures and otherwise fishy locations. Chat rooms and fishing reports also help locate a few tailing fish. "You can spend a half-hour on the Internet, and you'll know how many striped marlin are in California," Doughtey says.
The technology certainly helps, but nothing beats the word on the street. "You've got to get the fishing dope," says Capt. Mike "The Beak" Hurt. "Before tournaments we'll do a lot of networking. We'll have a meeting with our friends, compile information and put a plan together." But what anglers do with that information spells the difference between success and failure.
"Experience beats out technology any day," Lassley says. "To be successful, you need to spend time on the water. You've got to know the currents and where the fish are coming from and where they're going."
An Eye for Detail
The 2003 season was moving along at a snail's pace when I arrived just days before the Catalina Classic, one of the area's largest tournaments. The fleet had posted only a few fish here and there.
"We had some strange conditions before the Classic," says Capt. Billy Miyagawa, who runs the Gambler, a 65-foot Elliott. "I had grass in my yard that was bluer than the water." Miyagawa won The Billfish Foundation's Pacific Coast tag-and-release captain of the year award in 2003.
Luckily, the water cleaned up just before the kickoff party, and the bite blew up. For the first time in months, the fish began aggressively striking lures (or "jigs" as they call 'em on the West Coast) and greenback mackerel. On day one, the fleet of 91 boats hooked 41 striped marlin, caught and released 18 and weighed in 12. Most of the action occurred just east of Santa Barbara Island.
I was fishing on the Chiqelin, a 46-foot Bertram, with Hurt at the helm, and we were among the first boats to hook up that morning. With two men looking through expensive image-stabilizing binoculars or "gyros" in the tower, two with binoculars on the bridge, and two guys in the pit constantly scanning the swells, we didn't want to miss any opportunity. We spotted a tailer off the port bow, surfing down-sea. Our best caster moved to the bow and tossed a live mackerel just in front of the fish's bill. Unfortunately it didn't bite and spooked off.
Hurt likes to pull only four lines when trolling around looking for fish. This is a run-and-gun fishery. The more lines you have in the water, the more obstacles you have when the time comes to speed over to a fish and cast. You won't find many boats pulling teasers or dredges. However, lures take their fair share of fish, and our first fish of the day went after a Zuker on the left short.
The jig fish came out of nowhere and hit like a USC lineman. Once hooked up, the angler headed to the bow to keep out of the way as Hurt worked to position the boat for a possible doubleheader. A drop-back bait was quickly deployed off the transom, and we cleared the other three jig lines. A second fish hit one of the jigs as an angler reeled it in, but managed to spit the hook. The angler on the bow, however, landed his fish, and, with a clean release, our team was on the board.
"Our hookup ratio on jigs is about 50 percent," Hurt says, "and it's more like 90 percent on baits. We shouldn't have worried about clearing the rods and focused on getting the bait back. You want to maximize your opportunities and drop back immediately. We paid for that one."
Some telltale signs to look for when scanning the horizon include kelp paddies, sea lions and, most important, birds. "We can spot birds 4 or 5 miles away with a good set of glasses," Miyagawa says. "And they're not the big gobs you see on dolphin or tuna. We're looking for a handful of birds like small terns feeding on smaller baits. We'd rather find a couple of birds actively feeding than a whole flock.
"Early in the season, lots of the fish are taken on lures," he continues. "Later on, in September, most are sight fish, and the numbers start to improve. The boats that find the fish first win tournaments. You want all eyes looking all the time."
West Coast anglers started sight-fishing with live baits as early as the Tuna Club days when anglers stole the idea from the commercial tuna boats of storing baits in tanks. On today's boats you'll find gigantic, custom-built baitwells. The Gambler, for example, can easily carry 450 uncrowded live mackerel between its three tanks: two 250-gallon side tanks in the stern and a smaller tank to hold a few cast baits on the bow.
"West Coast baits are more fragile," Hurt says. "To keep them alive we use thru-hull systems and an overboard return so we can constantly feed them fresh water. On bigger boats you'll see 1-hp pool pumps feeding the livewell. You want to be able to turn over all the water every seven to 10 minutes."
The baits are cured over a period of a few days and fed cat food or mackerel chunks. Damaged baits constantly get culled out of the tank, and the crews top off whenever they can.
The friskiest baits don't last long when the bite comes on: "You want the best bait on your line," Lassley says. "We'll put a little food in the tank, scoop up the baits that come up to feed, and run them to the bow. Those are the ones you want ? the hottest baits in the tank."
When the opportunity presents itself to cast a bait, the pressure's on. You want to know what Phil Mickelson felt like on the 18th hole at the Masters? Get out on the bow and toss a bait just in front of a barely noticeable fin ? in one shot. And you're not casting with a baitcaster, you're casting with a 30- to 50-pound conventional reel and a short stand-up rod.
The Secret to Success
The most impressive thing I found in Catalina wasn't the size of the fish, the custom boats, or even the famed Casino building on the edge of town. What caught my eye was the attention to detail of the top crews. You can't afford to miss any opportunities, and they don't.
"Everything we do is about increasing our odds by percentage points," says Lassley. "We try to achieve 100 percent effectiveness." That means every piece of machinery must be flawless, every bait perfect, and each knot, crimp and hook gets checked and rechecked. Their catch numbers might not impress a captain from Venezuela or St. Thomas, but their dedication would impress anyone.
"Over time, all the successful crews have been of the same ilk," Farrior says. "They're always looking and thinking. Everyone in the cockpit has a job and a battle station. If an opportunity comes by every now and then, they're ready for it, and they always seem to know what to do next."
