By Paul Lebowitz

The morning started under a blue sky and a warm sun with big calico bass eagerly snapping at our sardine baits. Now the wind is screaming fiercely, kicking up whitecaps that churn and froth. Several kayak anglers tie off to kelp stringers to keep from being blown out into the angry open water. We’re kayak fishing remote San Clemente Island, but have little to fear from the nasty conditions. Our home base, the beautiful 88-foot sportfisher Islander, rests securely at anchor just a few hundred yards away awaiting our return. 

As each kayak fisherman tires of fighting the wind, he heads back to the Islander for the luxury of a warming bowl of Chef Monte’s tasty prime rib and vegetable soup and a thick deli sandwich. Everyone is in good spirits after a morning of fast fishing action. Even the kayaker who’d ranged far downwind of our mothership arrives rested. A ride back in the Islander’s skiff spared him a slow grueling paddle into the teeth of the 20+ knot wind. As I kicked back in the shelter of the Islander’s pilothouse and sipped an after-lunch cup of coffee while waiting for the wind to slow, I remember thinking to myself, “Ah, this is the life.”

And what a life it is for a kayak angler used to doing everything for himself.

We are accustomed to dragging ourselves out of bed at oh-dark-thirty, fighting our way through the cold surf (at 5:00 a.m., there isn’t any other kind), paddling the long miles to the fishing grounds, and painstakingly making our own bait. In contrast, a mothership trip is decadent luxury. That morning when I rolled out of my bunk and donned my wetsuit and paddle jacket in my stateroom, I only had to walk a couple dozen steps to the back of the boat when I was ready to fish.

There two crewmen hoisted my rigged kayak over the stern rail and down into the waiting arms of a second pair standing on the long swim step that spans the entire length of the Islander’s stern. They eased my kayak into the water and held it for me as I stepped down onto the swim ladder and slid easily into the cockpit. While one crewman handed me my paddle, another placed my fishing poles into my rod holders, and then stocked my bait tank with fresh sardines. Three paddle strokes later I was on the grounds with a bait in the water, and not just anywhere. While we’d snoozed in our bunks the Islander had made the 55-mile overnight crossing from San Diego Bay to the rich waters of San Clemente Island.

You might ask yourself, if you’re going to take a boat all the way over to some prime fishing spot, why not just stay warm and dry and fish from the boat? Especially when it means giving up the advantage of chumming fish to the boat?

Well, some of us kayak crazies just love to fish from our small, silent boats. Quiet boats ideal for slow trolling a live bait to lure a shy white seabass out of the kelp, or catch the odd breezing yellowtail. But most of us are concerned first of all with landing fish, and don’t care what platform we use. There is a good reason kayak anglers are willing to pay limited-load prices to fish a place like San Clemente. Kayaks can get into the tight spots that rarely see a powerboat. Into the thickest prop-snagging kelp and right up against rocky shorelines where the king calicos dwell. In tight to rarely fished sandy beaches in search of the halibut that lurk just outside the reach of the breaking surf.    

Fishing those kayak only spots is just what we did in spite of the wind that bedeviled this particular mothership trip. Richard Martin, Robert Babashoff, and Tristan Dartt worked the Pyramid Cove beaches for a brace of ‘butts that included two 20-pounders. Calico enthusiasts prowled the thickest weeds looking for the big boys, and were not disappointed. Even this author threaded a 6-pound “checker” through the kelp jungle. The one free diver who joined the kayakers shot the biggest fish of the trip, a 30-pound halibut.

If the weather had been a bit kinder a few more yellowtail (one lucky kayaker got the only two) or some white seabass might have been hooked, but the Islander’s crew helped us skillfully play the hand this trip was dealt.

As we sat down to a hearty dinner after the last few diehards had paddled in and night had fallen, the faces around the table looked tired and happy. Babashoff summed up the mood. “I love the island. It is my favorite place to kayak fish,” he said. Then, gesturing around the Islander’s comfortable salon, he said of the boat, “You’ve got staterooms and great food, there is no comparison.”

RICHARD MARTIN worked in tight to the surf zone to get this beautiful 20-pound halibut.

WITH THE KAYAKS stored on a custom rack, or lined off the stern, there is plenty of deck space on the 88-foot Islander to fish comfortably from the boat.

NICE KAYAK collection. It must be lunch time on the Islander.

A MOTHERSHIP trip to San Clemente Island is a great opportunity to get up close with big calico bass.