By Paul Lebowitz

In late August I traveled back in time, to the days when hardy Aleutians paddled cold seas in kayaks hand-crafted of skin, gut, and driftwood.

My visit to times gone by was a sentimental journey. The equipment I used was thoroughly modern – a sit-on-top fishing kayak, a quiver of rods and reels, and the latest electronics.

Ah, but the location was rooted in history. The Kenai Fjords in boundless Alaska, a place of slate gray water bursting with marine life, ancient spruce forests clinging to near vertical slopes, and living rivers of ice.

I kayaked and fished this amazing seascape with Chris Mautino of Liquid Adventures, a Seward-based guide service that specializes in glacier paddling. In Alaska’s cold seas, the normal rides of choice are sleek sit-inside touring kayaks. Those swift boats are only fair fishing platforms. Mautino, at heart as fish-hungry as anyone out there, keeps a small fleet of sit-on-tops for what he terms “play time.”

Over six incredible days, we tangled with acrobatic silver salmon, marveled at the miracle of an army of pink salmon returning to their native creek, wrestled gator-rolling lingcod, and paddled through a maze of ice at the foot of Pedersen Glacier. All of these stories and more – and some photos I hope you’ll find fascinating and beautiful – will appear in a future issue of Western Outdoors.

Paddling and fishing waters where the kayak originated was a visceral reminder of the direct link from the past to the future. Although our contemporary boats don’t look anything like an Aleutian’s baidarka, the hunter’s spirit that motivates us is similar. Whether we track yellowtail at the kelps, trout in the Sierras, or bass on the rocks, we who follow in their paddle strokes owe the original kayakers a nod of thanks.

I bring this up now because we face a challenge to our way of life, to our sport and passion. I’m speaking of the Marine Life Protection Act (MLPA) Initiative, the state law that mandates the establishment of a network of marine reserves along the California coast. After working its way down the Central Coast, the process that could close some twenty percent of our local water has reached Southern California. The implications for kayak anglers are obvious.

Stay with me now. Remembering and honoring our traditions and history could help preserve our future. We don’t have to look far.

FISHING ON THE KAYAK’S NATIVE WATER, ALASKA – Christopher Mautino is all smiles as he holds up a beautiful silver salmon, caught on the way to Kenai Fjords National Park. The trip inspired this writer to consider the value of heritage and tradition in preserving our future fishing opportunities in the face of mandated MLPA closures.

FISHING KAYAK TAKES ON THE ICE – A look at the chilly conditions at Pedersen Glacier - that's nice ice! PHOTO COURTESY CHRISTOPHER MAUTINO

Modern kayak fishing as we know was born on the sandy shores of Malibu, where Tim Nemier crafted his first Scupper kayaks out of fiberglass. They looked remarkably similar to the fishing kayaks we use today, minus the tankwell which came later. These boats were the antithesis of the ‘tippy’ sit-inside sea kayaks. An angler or diver could easily move about on them, crawl on or off at will, and best of all, shrug off the surf.

Nemier sold his sit-on-tops right on the side of Pacific Coast Highway – they went for $150 – sometimes even unloading his own kayak minutes after hitting the beach following a trip out to Big Blue. No problem, the enterprising young man would just craft another. Nemier built his love of the ocean into a business that remains an industry leader, founding Ocean Kayak and transitioning from fiberglass to more easily produced plastic. A boat for everyman, and it started right here in Southern California.

“Nicolas Beach and south a mile or two was our playground,” Nemier said of the early days, and ticked off plenty of other special locations. For those whose lives kayak fishing has enriched, for those for whom it is a way of life as natural as taking the next breath, places like Big Rock and Surfer Point Reef are sacred ground.

Of course Nemier wasn’t alone, and many others have followed in his trail. Every region along our Southern California coastline has its kayak fishing pioneers, most of whom shun the limelight. The paddle out to their local reefs, just as they have for twenty years or so, and whether they say so out loud or not, they celebrate the freedom, the wonder, and the bounty of the ocean.

As the MLPA moves forward, these ‘elder statesmen’ have a lot to offer if they choose to be heard. They have an intimate connection with their local ocean, possessing valuable knowledge of the fisheries and how weather cycles affect beach access. If shared, this information can help decision makers determine where they can protect ocean habitats while posing the least possible impacts on kayak fishing. Perhaps more importantly, the saltier kayak anglers out there can speak to the sport’s history, to an ethic that values self-reliance, and the rewards of paddling a small boat out onto a vast ocean.

“When you head out onto the ocean you turn into a small speck of sand. In a second you’re vulnerable, you’re in a different world. It let’s you live in the present and overcome fear of the unknown. There’s a lot of juice in that,” Nemier said in striving to explain what motivated him to build his first fishing kayaks.

In an age when the population is increasingly disconnected from the natural world, there’s a lot of wisdom in those words. It, and similar themes, should be repeated tirelessly, calmly and politely by every concerned kayak angler.

I can hear the naysayers now, speaking out of the frustration caused by past closures imposed by outsiders. Why bother, when fishing lock-ups are a foregone conclusion? Simple, to keep as much of our water open as possible. The only way to accomplish this is to work within the process, to show up at public hearings and demonstrate our concern and commitment. Veterans of the MLPA process up north say it makes a meaningful difference.

The first MLPA South Coast study region Blue Ribbon Task Force meeting was September 8, 2008 in San Diego, with other sessions to follow every four to six weeks. They’ll be held all across Southern California, to give folks from every region an opportunity to speak their piece.