By Paul Lebowitz

Mark Olson rushed off the ferry at twilight in Two Harbors like a man who’d been waiting years for this moment, as indeed he had. “The big Catalina calicos come out at night, get ready!” Olson urged. Jeff Krieger and I grabbed a rod apiece and a handful of baits and raced Olson to the water. A short while later the three of us were floating on our kayaks in tight to the jagged shore of Catalina’s Ship Rock, with only the nearly full moon and a sky full of glittering stars for company.

Out in the dark, we wished for big, grumpy calico bass as we bumped plastic swimbaits down the steep wall of the rock and dropped baits alongside dimly seen kelp stringers. Shouts of “yes!” and “got him!” echoed off the rock as we hooked up.

Most calls were followed with an indistinct figure holding up a beautiful bass brilliantly spotlighted in the glow of a headlamp. And then it happened.

“I’ve got a good one,” said Krieger in a tone that suggested he was onto a serious fish. I looked his direction and could vaguely see the fish was putting him to work. My own bait was falling in free spool. It stopped abruptly and when I raised the rod and reeled down I was on too. My hands were full as I struggled with a big fish that pulled line off the reel and then scraped against the kelp before I finally turned it. As I fought my fish to the surface I could hear Krieger hooting and hollering in triumph. When my own fish popped to the top I could scarcely believe my eyes. It looked nearly two feet long. I grabbed the big calico and sprint paddled over to Krieger where I held the thick, grizzled fish up for him and Olson to see.  

“I think yours is bigger,” slyly grinned Krieger, and then he hoisted his own truly monstrous calico. Giddy at the sight, we held the two enormous calicos side by side. Krieger’s edged mine by a good inch. We quickly measured the fish against the rails of the kayaks, then let them swim back to their homes in the reef. 22.5 and 24 inches. Conservatively fifteen pounds of calico bass between the two fish. We’ll never know for sure as in our rush to get on the water we’d left the scale behind. It doesn’t matter, because those two fish were firsthand proof of the legendary quality of Catalina’s waters.     

That first night at Catalina was a dream come true for Olson. For years he’d been frustrated by the near impossibility of transporting kayaks to islands. The recreational kayaks available for rent on Catalina made for poor fishing boats. Now finally Olson, a representative of fishing kayak manufacturer Ocean Kayak, had found a partner in Two Harbors Dive and Recreation Center manager Hilary Boyce. Working together, this spring they launched a rental fleet of state of the art fishing kayaks. Krieger, a noted kayak fishing guide, and I were there to help Olson shake down the boats and explore the kayak fishing potential of the Two Harbors area.

The morning after our moonlight calico adventure dawned bright and clear. From the beach in front of the Dive Center we could see sampling the fishing possibilities of just the front side of Two Harbors would be no mean feat. Several obvious structures invited investigation. The distinct spire of Ship Rock, the scene of the previous night’s action, rose from the sea about two miles offshore. Closer at hand, about a mile from the beach, we could see a low white dome, Bird Rock. Even nearer, just beyond the moorings, warning signs marked Harbor Reef. The navigational charts we’d reviewed prior to the trip showed deep channels between each of the major features.

Krieger, who grew up fishing the island, explained we were looking at one of the most productive fishing zones of the entire island.

“It is all here, anything you might want to target,” said Krieger. “The channel between the Harbor Reefs and Bird Rock can hold yellowtail and white seabass, as can the high spot between Bird and Ship Rocks. There are halibut in the sandy bays. Deep water comes close to shore here. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone hooked a marlin off Ship Rock in late summer,” continued Krieger. “The calicos are all around, on the structures, in the kelps, and along the shoreline boiler rocks. For rockfish, the drop-off out by Ship Rock is a good bet,” finished Krieger.

We ventured out onto the sheltered waters of Isthmus Cove, this time hoping for an early spring yellowtail or white seabass. Although we found bait in abundance, sardines and mackerel, the big predators were a no-show. No matter, we were content to fling plastics for calico bass, and to marvel at the scenic beauty of our surroundings. The waters around us were a fantastic variety of colors ranging from deep blue to milky green. Peering down into the crystalline water, we were treated to aquarium-like views of flitting baitfish, garishly complacent garibaldi, and furtive calico bass lurking amid the weeds. After a full morning we retired to the comfort of the resort for juicy burgers and frosty drafts at the bar. 

After our rest we had the enviable task of checking out the back side of the island. You see, Two Harbors is ideally situated for kayak fishing.

Also known as the isthmus, this narrowest part of Catalina is less than half a mile across, affording the kayak angler the opportunity to fish the rugged, back side of the island. We got our introduction to the weather side at Catalina or “Cat” Harbor, a large natural bay. Cat Harbor is unique in the Channel Islands, the only long shallow bay that is floored largely with mud flats. Fish it just as you would any bay on the mainland.

That evening we learned first-hand about the winds that sometimes roar across the isthmus late in the day. We launched onto Cat Harbor, and then clawed our way out into the teeth of a fierce headwind.

A long slow mile later we were under the imposing cliffs of Catalina Head at the mouth of the harbor. As the sun sank into the west, shadows played across the tortured and twisted face of the sheer cliff. The eerie patterns in the rock revealed the island’s violent geologic origins. Here also the massive bulk of the cliff shielded us from the worst of the wind. In a deepening gloom we worked the narrow seams of water between the rock face and the fringing kelp beds for calicos out of reach of the typical boat angler. We fished until the last shreds of light were gone from the sky, cleaned up, and set an alarm for 4.00 a.m.

The next thing I knew Olson was pounding on the wall to wake us. We gathered our gear, grabbed the boats, and greeted the sun at the mouth of Cat Harbor.

Today we would turn the corner and explore the remote and wild back side of Catalina. We rounded Cat Head to a rugged vista of cliffs pockmarked with shallowly indented bays. With nothing to slow the swells between Catalina and Asia, there was a bit of bump in the water as we paddled toward the West End. Although there was no significant surf, possible landing sites looked scarce. The back side of the island had a wild feel that definitely offered challenging conditions more suitable for the experienced kayak angler.

As we reached the end of mile long Lobster Bay at Cape Cortes, quick moving bait schools dappled the water. Olson and I caught mackerel, which we shared with Krieger. Hoping to entice a white seabass, Krieger pinned one onto his trolling rig and dropped it into a shady spot of water next to a stand of thick kelp.

CALICOS are just one of many species available to anglers adventurous enough to fish the kayaks now located at Catalina Island.

ISTHMUS COVE is an easy, walk-in launch.

CATALINA calicos have a nose for the rocks, especially the rugged 'checkers' that live on the weather side of the island.

CAT Harbor and Indian Head.

SHIP ROCK just outside Isthmus Cove is ground zero for calicos and yellowtail.

Before he could paddle a stroke his mackerel was seized. The fish took Krieger into the weeds. Rod tip bent to the water, his face a study in concentration, Krieger persevered and pulled up a chunky calico.

Olson ventured between the inside edge of the kelp and the white water foaming around the shoreline boulders. He flipped his bait into the water, waited, hesitated, then set the hook on another big Catalina calico. As I photographed him with his fish, my own bait was grabbed. By the time I put the camera down I was irretrievably snagged. “He got you,” laughed Olson.