A few weeks ago on a small, nondescript pier, my two year old son caught his first fish.  The prized creature was a smallmouth bass, caught on a leech that must have been given exceptional action as it was “jigged” along the bottom by my toddler’s efforts to turn the handle on the spinning reel.  For an hour previous, that same leech had been soaking–motionless–along the edge of a weed bed that I had placed with a well-practiced cast… for nothing.  It wasn’t until my son walked out to the end of the pier, announced “I want to catch a fish, Daddy,” and proceeded to show his old man how to get it done.  I’ve never been more proud.

Perhaps sharing this seems gratuitous or self-serving (most Internet fishing posts are, aren’t they?)  Maybe it’s a stretch to recount the piscatorial happenstance of a toddler on the shores of a shallow northern Wisconsin lake in this forum.  But for me–for a Dad–it brought back wonderful memories of my own first fish, and the joy that came in watching my brothers, friends, my wife, and even total strangers catch their respective “first fish.”

For many folks in California, that initial nibble on the end of the line comes with one’s feet on a pier.  With no license requirement, easy access, and a relatively higher chance for a novice to catch something, piers are a natural entry point for new anglers.  Many times while conversing with passersby on a pier, I’ve handed off my rod to someone who wanted to “pull one in.”  For some, it’s no big deal; they continue on down the pier.  But for others, it’s nothing short of a magical moment–it’s the first fish they’ve ever caught, and it implants an immediate need to ensure that it is not the last fish they’ll ever catch.   Even the most humble smelt can be a lifelong memory.  Such moments have also given me the opportunity to share a few thoughts on important ideas like catch and release, conservation, fishing regulations, or simply to help dispel the unfair perceptions and stereotypes some have about “everyone” fishing on piers.

My dad once shared with me that, as a boy, he left the carnival booths and roller coasters of the Pacific Ocean Park Pier complex, and approached a man fishing in the surf line.  That nameless fellow showed my dad how to dig for sandcrabs, how to hook them through the tail so they couldn’t dig in, and even let my dad pull in a barred perch… his first fish.  That moment set my dad on a lifetime of joy, fishing with his friends throughout high school, and later with his six sons.  He stood right behind me when I caught my first fish– a small sheephead caught at Abalone Cove some 30 years ago. 

And while my son might be a bit young yet to remember his smallish smallmouth, I’ll never forget it. 

UPSAC continues to support various youth fishing events throughout California.  It is our hope that all young (or not-so-young) anglers who are called to a life of fishing start off on a solid foundation of knowledge, safety, a conservation-minded approach, meaningful and legal harvest, and a desire to celebrate and protect the unique pier and shore fishing opportunities in California.

Up until that day, going fishing had meant doing so with sand, rocks, or pier-boards underfoot.  But there was a certain mystique to the concept of “deep-sea.”  Granted, we did a lot of fishing in 20 to 60 feet of water, certainly not “deep” by comparison with most of the ocean’s depths.  But for a young boy, miles from shore, catching fish alongside his dad, it was deep enough.  The barries were a lot bigger than the perch we had caught at San Onofre or Huntington, and thus, “deep-sea” became synonymous with “big fish.”

It seems that, often times, pier anglers have that same mindset.  The relatively deeper water at the ends of piers seems to beckon most pier anglers the the farthest railing, perhaps with the possibility of one of those big fish that have existed in tale and imagination.  Instead, what many anglers find at the ends of piers are crowded conditions and small mackerel or other baitfish.  Most piers are not deep enough, it seems, to bring in large fish with regularity.

That’s not always true, of course.  Anyone who has pulled on big sharks and rays from the ends of piers like Gaviota, Goleta, Seal Beach, Balboa, or Oceanside knows there are some big ones out there.  The occasional yellowtail will chance a trip through the pilings of Newport, bonito runs can be frenetic and exciting, and many of us have heard stories of bluefin tuna caught from piers in Santa Monica bay a century ago. 

The next time you’re heading for the end, remember that with every step along the pier, if there’s water underneath you, there are fishing opportunities, too.  Perch, corbina, and croakers will take pier-fished baits in the skinniest foam.  Mid-pier areas beyond the breakers are often the most productive for halibut and other gamefish, and in some cases, these fish see the lightest fishing pressure… there’s simply fewer people targeting them in these areas.  And even though they’re probably not supposed to be there, watch out for surfers, waders, swimmers, and other folks who are within casting range, particularly in that skinny water close to shore.

Also remember that every trip doesn’t have to be about “big fish.” Scale down to a trout rod or an ultralight rig, and target perch with a hi-lo rig baited with ghost shrimp or razor clams.  Just don’t forget to bring your landing net to bring your catch safely to your side of the rail, so the decision to retain or release the fish is yours, and not the unfortunate result of light gear.

If mackerel is your thing, then by all means, head to the end and bring your bucket.  If you’re trolley-rigging one of those mackerel for threshers or yellowtail, the end might be just the place for you.  But if you want to try something a little different, find a nice spot along the rail a few steps closer to the beach, and see what’s biting in the shallows.  You might just be surprised what’s swimming around beneath the kids on boogie boards.

Perhaps closest to family lore was “The Rock” (pictured), where my family fished weekly throughout my childhood.  Hidden in plain sight along the Palos Verdes peninsula, The Rock provided consistent fishing for opaleye, calicos, perch, cabezon, and a dozen other species.  A few times, schools of barracuda pushed shoals of anchovies right up on the beach, and hit anything shiny that was cast in their general direction.  On one particularly special July 4th evening, my dad, brothers, and I caught and released limits of calicos to 7 lbs. from the kelp, all while watching simultaneous fireworks shows in Avalon, Santa Monica, and Long Beach.

Continuing north, I drove past “Cookie Beach,” a section of beach around Torrance that made catching legal halibut from the surf a near-sure thing.  The stretch of beach was marked by a certain configuration of houses above the iceplant covered hillsides, but if you fished it just right…during the right tides…at the right time of year… with a big “cookie” on your hook (a “cookie” is three or four anchovies wrapped with cotton thread around a 2/0 baitholder hook, so that it looks like a big blob of fish)… well, you just had to make sure the fish you caught were at least 22 inches.  Most were at least twenty-six, and that wasn’t accounting for the huge spotfin croaker that would sometimes beat the halibut to the bait.

Every few minutes, another fishing spot from yesteryear.  The Bubble Hole.  Upside-Downs.  Don’t Falls. Tommy’s Cabezon-Spot.  Jonny Carson’s (a turnout a few miles north of Wylie’s that was awesome for white seabass in the surf.)  Passersby on PCH would have thought me a fool, as I drove up the road smiling, laughing, crying, remembering.

I pulled into the beachfront hotel in Malibu, just south of the pier, checked in, and went to my room.  The breeze on the ocean view balcony felt particularly wonderful, as my toddler, my mortgage, my new job, any number of additional “mys” have kept me from my beloved Pacific for some time.  My eyes gazed down the beach at house after house after house….

And that’s when it hit me.

My spots are mostly gone now.  Sure they’re still there, I guess, but they are shadows of what they once were.  The Rock is now virtually inaccessible, blocked by a billion dollar hilltop hotel that was recently featured on the cover of Westways Magazine.  Cookie Beach has faded into memory, as the landmarks–and the halibut population betrayed by them–have simply disappeared.  Jonny Carson’s is completely blocked off with K-rail and CalTrans vehicles.

I don’t know if these spots are on the MLPA chopping block or not, but really… it doesn’t matter.  Whether or not we’re allowed to fish at many of the locations we enjoyed as children plays second chair to a more direct issues like beach access, parking, and the ever-changing coastal landscape.  I can only hope that someday, many years from now, that big hotel will close, those CalTrans trucks will drive away for good, and my grandkids will amble down small, unmarked coastal trails and nondescript roadside turnouts to find hungry fish.

Yesterday’s history.  I’m setting my hopes on tomorrow.

Venue is hosted on the Cabillo Mole Pier in Avalon Harbor on Santa Catalina Island, about 1 hr offshore from Long Beach, CA. The event draws individuals and families together and we not only have a catch-n-release derby with junior and adult divisions, but also a potluck lunch on the pier, and a fund-raising raffle with a custom built distance rod and reel combo grand prize. The lure for a lot of attendees has been the annual hunt for bonito – a pelagic tuna-like species that frequents the shores of Catalina Island. But Catalina holds many other prized fish like large abundant opaleyes, big calico bass, humongous sheephead, barracuda, massive batrays, and the possibility of hookups with Yellowtail – all from shore! Event organizers work with Avalon Harbor Master and local merchants and restaurants to plan the event and make sure it goes smoothly.

Parents get excited too because many haven’t fished in years or at all.  And no license is required on public saltwater piers.  Cub scout requirements for fishing pin and belt loops are online.  The system works with older Boy Scouts, but requires a certified/trained Merit Badge Counselor present to sign off blue cards.