last day to go big or go home,”
“It’s the
says Jeff as he hands me his burliest G.Loomis halibut rod and loads a 16/0 circle hook with a two-pound dolly varden that I would have considered a good catch
back east. He tells me to paddle out and drop the hook to the bottom in 30 fathoms and watch for the rod tip to dip. “When you see that, put the reel in free spool. Count to 10
nice and slow and let the halibut eat the bait, flip the reel in gear, loosen the drag, and hang on. Whatever you do, don’t liſt a halibut out of the water. Just call for help.” Hours later I’m turning green in a washing machine. On
the open Pacific in a 12-foot swell, there is really no such thing as feeling bottom. I can only guess. Every eight seconds the sea bucks and I feel the yaw of my massive ‘but bait. All the other kayaks have scuttled inland and disappeared in a fog. But it’s my last chance to catch a big one and I won’t go in. I take my eyes off the rod and look at the horizon, warily at the ring of sea foam around the black wave-blasted rocks. Ten I check the depth finder and edge out towards Siberia, feeling my way into 300 feet of water. My beautiful trout hangs down there in the dark, bounc-
ing in front of the nose of something 100 times its size. I feel the unmistakable tug-tug of a strike and begin my count for the monster to swallow—one, two, three, four, five….
BLAME THE INTERNET
I’m trying to put together a sweet world-class yak fish- ing trip up
here...It would be a one week camping trip on the west coast of the Charlottes when the weather is usually best and the fishing rocks :) We would take a mother ship from port and tow a Zodiac and four yaks to an area I’ve
scoped...Do a bit of fishing, prawning (14 inchers), crabbing (endless #’s of crabs) and maybe some mushroom picking (golden chantrelles)
...Mostly fishing I’m guessing...lol... Target species here at that time are bigger chinook salmon, coho, halibut, ling and
rockfish...Also some great time with fellow anglers...If you’re interested let me know, K? Luv Life, Live Now, Fish Hard Jeff
Tirty-year-old Jeff Goudreau lives in Port Clements, a no- stoplight logging town deep in the cloudy heart of British Columbia’s Queen Charlotte Islands that gets twice as much rain as Seattle. Jeff toils 60 hours a week running logistics at a logging company desk, and when things are going smoothly, he cruises the fishing forums, putting up winter cabin-fever postings and scheming about trips like this one. Four of us took the bait from four corners of North Amer-
ica. Me, a magazine editor from Toronto. Wali, a high school science teacher who divides his time between Jacksonville and Portland. Jesse, a laid back Californian fresh in from Istanbul, whose career is on hold while he does more im- portant things like sailing the Mediterranean and fishing the Queen Charlotte Islands. And Lucian, an Ocean Kayak pro from Michigan who runs
GreatLakesKayakFishing.com. I recognize them immediately in the Vancouver airport,
casually dressed guys with tans and fishing shirts and rod cases strike up an instant conversation. We board the small plane elbow to elbow with grey-haired ladies going to see the
LIVE NOW, FISH HARD, DON’T PUKE. 30 … KAYAK ANGLER spring 2009
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