A fish fry to die for...

At first I questioned why would I want to get in an 8.5 foot plastic kayak and paddle out into the wild blue? I guess the best answer I can give is to prove you don't need a $25,000 boat to catch the freshest, greatest-tasting fish and chips in the ocean. It might also have a little to do with the adventure and challenge of taking on the ocean sitting atop a piece of plastic that resembles the outline of a seal which happens to be the choice entree for the sharp-dorsal carnivores that call ocean home.

This reminds me of a trip to Mexico a few years ago. I couldn't afford a kayak so I drug my belly boat (an inflatable truck tire covered with nylon and some nifty pockets) to the Sea of Cortez. I had just gotten into the fishing groove and had a full stringer of trigger fish hanging off of my tube. The current had pulled me out from the shore a bit and I was a bit uncomfortable so I peeked over my tube into the scary, dark abyss below...just in time to see a 10 ft. long marine animal roll just below my fins. It was that moment I realized I looked like a wounded sea-turtle flapping around in circles along with a healthy stringer of fish custard for dessert! I ran on top of the water back to the safety of shallow water. I still wonder how close my legs were from becoming an meal for a hungry shark.

Back to my Pacific story. I still can't afford a kayak so my friend Mike said he'd borrow one from his friend. "Cool, lets do it." I replied. After eating some of Mike's wife's (Rachel) most wonderful homemade chocolate eclairs we hurried out the door with ling cod and eclairs dancing in our heads. 

"Make sure you close the hatch lid tight, last time I took the boat out the hull took on water through the hatch", was Mike's friend's word of advice. I made a mental note to check each seal as we loaded the kayak into the pick up.

As we pulled up to the ocean, the water was as blue as the Colorado sky but it did have a little bit of wind chop. We donned breathable waders and life jackets. I checked the hatch seals and we launched right from the surf. Ahh...the freedom of my own vessel. I am my own captain. I can go where my paddles take me! It was great! The kayak suddenly seemed smaller than 8.5', but was surprisingly stable over the swells as we pushed ourselves out past the kelp beds into 40 ft of water with underwater structure that was hopefully surrounded by hungry fish.

We were a good 600 yards from the shore when we dropped line. "Fish on!" Mike yelled laughing. He likes to laugh...alot. I smirked out loud feelin' bad on the inside that I haven't caught a fish in my first 20 seconds of fishing. My rod bent to the water with a head shake. "Fish on" I laughed hysterically. I hauled in a 20" ling, too small so I threw it back into the drink.

Mike screamed "Yea, another one...whooah! this one feels big!" Sheesh. The fishing was on fire...but something suddenly felt obviously wrong. The mixture of wind waves and swell moved my vessel differently and I could feel more weight in my kayak.  I knew something was very, very wrong. Minutes before, my boat was stable and bobbing easily over the waves. But now, I felt low and heavy like I was carrying a dead, limp guy in my boat. I opened the hatch and swallowed hard when I saw my boat hull was carrying at least a couple hundred pounds of water.

I put my fishing rod into the holder and tried my best to stay stable. It was like being in a large bathtub. The wave would rock the boat swaying the water within the boat to and fro. The weight of sloshing water made it feel like a 300 pound man was trying to sink my kayak from my right side...then suddenly he's attempt a cannonball onto the left side of my boat. It was impossible and I knew the inevitable was drawing nigh.

"Mike! I need help!" This wasn't the first time I have screamed for help while in the ocean. One time while in Puerto Penasco with good friend Jared, I was spear-fishing in snorkel garb for grouper when a pain that felt like a bolt of lighting struck my side. I felt paralyzed as the surf threw me into some jagged rocks. I thought a shark had a hold of me! In an instant, the same sharp pain hit my knee so I dove under to defend myself. It was a Portuguese Man-of-war. Their bite is as mean as their name. "Jared!, I'm goin down and I lost a flipper!" Jared stood, in observation, as I flopped around in the water like a mad tuna. "Whats gotcha?!" he asked hesitating to get nearer till he got a clear answer. Once he learned it wasn't a shark, Jared recovered my flipper as I unwound man-of-war tentacles from around my chest and knee.

Back to my story..."Mike, I need help!" "What?" He was reeling in another fish watching me as I paddled like a canoeist on crack towards him. By this time, my boat was almost completely submerged. I handed Mike my fishing rod, then my boat finally decided to roll as I fell into the water. Instantly the cold Pacific rushed into my waders. It took my breath instantly.

We needed to make sure Mike's kayak remained upright or the situation would be a whole lot worse...which didn't seem possible for me at the moment. Mike took our keeper fish and threw them back into the wild blue because we desperately needed the stringer rope as a lifeline and a tow rope. I grabbed the rope and tried to straddle my kayak and get towed except my body was still completely submerged. I knew the cold water was much more of an enemy to me at this moment than any orca and shark that lurked those cold waters. I needed to get my core body out of water...and fast.

I half-hitched the stringer around my wrist tied it to the submerged kayak, I then pulled my upper body atop of the back end of Mike's kayak. Mike struggled to paddle him, his boat, me, and a sunk kayak. "Drop the kayak if you need!" Mike said. When you find yourself in situations like this there are stages you go through of shedding (potentially forever) valuables out of desperation. We already dumped our valuable fish. I was upset about that. I wasn't going to hit the next stage which would have been the kayak that Mike's friend was kind enough to let me borrow. I didn't want to lose the kayak mainly because I knew the next stage and valuable after the kayak was...well, me. I didn't want to get to that stage so I held on to that kayak for my life.

It took three hours...it felt like, but Mike said it was closer to 20 minutes that we paddled (mike paddled, I kicked) to the nearest shore which was a rough section of rocky beach. My legs were numb as I stripped down into my underwear and laid down on a over-sized rock facing the sun and protected from the wind. We inspected the kayak and found a crack in a rear skupper hole. ahhh....The owner of the boat thought the water was previously leaking through the hatch lid but just hadn't noticed the crack in the skupper.

I dried my clothes and told Mike "Go catch us some dinner!" 2 hours later, we left the beach with two kayaks, 6 bottom fish, and most importantly our lives. We headed back to Mike's for more sugar eclairs to calm our adrenaline rush. Never underestimate the elements. Never take for granted the wonderful life you live. I cooked up the fresh snapper and ling tonight. Laynee and I both thought the fish fry was to die for....