It’s funny how the energy of the day can change in an instant. I put the kayak in this morning and pedaled off in the blue glow of false dawn, tired from the flip-flop of nights and mornings spent in the surf and in the yak, I felt kind of numb to excitement as my brain vibrated from, I suppose, my shattered circadian rhythm. As I turned out of the harbor, I stopped and listened to perfect silence, just to hear it.
A half-mile later, I was staring into the rising sun, trying to see over the beach on the point, looking for life. As I cleared the tip of the point, the energy changed. The sea was alive beneath me, rising and falling as the east wind drove the water around the tip. In the distance, clouds of birds tended “flare-up” blitzes, a few boats followed closely behind.
Upon arriving, the bite was dynamite, a mix of bonito and albies and everyone was courteous; it was like a party that none of us knew we were invited to. I even crossed lines with a guy on a nearby boat and he called over a sincere apology! How often does that happen? Truth be told, I wasn’t positive it wasn’t actually my fault, I waved it off and called back, “Not a problem at all, it happens!” It’s so rare that every boat understands how to approach a school of feeding fish. And it’s almost unheard of that there’s a unanimous feeling of good will in the air, it was as if everyone wanted everyone else to hook up. This was turning out to be a special experience.
And then… the “personal watercraft” (PWC) guys arrived.
I have yet to see a guy on a PWC who shows any courtesy, displays even a shred of finesse or has the self-awareness to connect the dots on why the fish always go down immediately after they arrive! Before you get your boxers in a bunch, I am certain that there are anglers that use these watercraft that I would be happy to fish near, I just haven’t seen one yet.
But today, there was one guy in particular, who took these stereotypes to a whole other echelon. Making things more comical, was the fact that this person was cloaked in nuclear banana yellow offset with a jet black stripe, and the body of his black-lettered PWC matched his jacket, to a tee. He was like a radioactive bumble bee out there and his actions were akin to a toddler in an antique shop. Everything he touched seemed to crumble in his hands.
I’m definitely the ‘why can’t we all just get along’ type, I don’t want to involuntarily roll my eyes when one of these things zooms into a bite, but after talking to dozens of other boaters and kayakers, the sentiment is always the same, and it can be boiled down to one general statement, “they’re a pain in the butt.” And I think I can help.
It all starts with observation. If you look around you, from your floating snowmobile, you will likely see that most boaters (certainly not all) cooperate in these blitz situations. Sure there can be a little bit of a race to get there, but the etiquette is to slow way down about 100 yards off from the blitz and then idle in close enough to cast. You may have seen boats lined up with an open lane between them and the fish, that’s not a lane for you to gun it through, it’s a buffer zone that keeps the fish from spooking and keeps them up.
When you see a blitz from 400 yards away, like my radioactive friend from today, it’s poor etiquette to cut everyone off, run right into middle of the melee and then sit there looking bewildered when you don’t hook up (again) and the fish disappear (again) when you arrive on the scene. This is forgivable once, even twice, but once you hit double-digits, it’s all on you.
You also need to realize that this turbo-charged ride-on mower you’re straddling is LOUD. So when you explode into the blast zone with the throttle pinned, those fish can hear you coming and that unfamiliar growl is usually enough to send them scattering. I know these mini jet boats can move slowly, I’ve seen it, so have a little self-awareness and come in slow, join the line of boats and kayaks and I guarantee you’ll catch more fish. I took special interest in watching the four PWC anglers that were fishing the area this morning and, in spite of bursting onto the scene of several-dozen ferocious feeds, I only saw one of them hook up. And lo and behold, he caught that fish after idling up on an isolated feed all by himself. But seconds later, the bumble bee came and bumbled that one up too.
You can’t make this stuff up.
