Arches

 I have been paddling out of Van Damme State Beach for years, but I tend to head north for the sea-caves I know.  Frankly, I'm feeling a bit silly for not pushing just a little more south even when conditions call for more caution.  Some of the sea-caves and arches I paddled through yesterday are just one bit further from a very cautious paddle, meaning right next-door.  I've swam within 100 yards of a very cool arch withot realizing just how close I've come in the past.

These last few years I've been paddling south with my fishing pal JP, but we haven't really had reason to check out Buckhorn Cove and points south.  Despite the heavy fog, we fished and paddled further and further south until we passed the point and worked our way back.  I was so overjoyed to discover arches and sea-caves that I hadn't visited in decades--or perhaps never at all--so the day was especially special.  Most times, the paddle back against the wind argues for not going too far south.  I now know the counter-argument for going south!

A Good Catch

JP netting a good-sized lingcod.

Foggy: Fishing and Paddling

"Waiting for Ghoti"  -- if you know that G. B. Shaw respelling of "fish".  

(GH of "rough"; O of "women"; TI of "nation".)

Purely existential.

My view.  

Into the void?

"Marco?" . . . .

. . . "Polo?"

A little further south.  Fog not so strong near the shore . . . the rocky shore.

Trying to photograph water again.
Using the rock and the swell . . . to what effect?

Swell: Close-Up

A Swell Sequence

Heading Out

Mendocine paddling.

Kayak-Fishing: JP / Mendocino

June 13, 2019.

"I don't want to alarm you, but . . . ."

What you say to your kayaking-buddy when you're in 80 feet of salt water and your paddle contacts something moving beneath your boat.

(I think those were my words, but I kind of can't remember.)

______

P.S.  A friend wanted more . . . wanted the "end" of the story:

My kayak-buddy then had caught a lingcod, a predator fish, so I prefer to think that that lingcod had followed the last fish caught, had bumped my paddle, and then was caught himself.

Any other stories--and I have many in my head-- would cause anxiety.

So, happy ending for the kayakers.

(I really felt a moving body under my paddle: fish, seal, shark, other?  Mostly likely, a seal.  You tell me.)

_______

P.P.S.    So, the lingcod was 24 inches long, and at the time I figured he'd followed the hooked rockfish my pal Jeff was reeling in, but now I'm thinking I felt a seal or sea lion, most likely, following the rockfish instead.  (I've watched seals chase hooked salmon and bite off all but the head just before I could reel in the fish completely, for example.)  We hadn't seen any seals for hours, so we didn't think first about seals.  A shark is also possible, but I'd rather go with the seal.  I felt something solid but flexible, muscles shifting beneath skin, but that's describing the feeling I had while holding a paddle.

TBT: Fishing with Dad

Fishing trip.

I caught my first fish at age seven with my dad at my side.  I'm older here, obviously.

This trip out into Monterey Bay, oh, my father was miserable.
Seasick so much.
Still, the whirr of the reel would catch his attention . . . .

I'm not sure we caught those or if we were gifted by cousins on the same trip.  The conditions were raw that time, and we went out more than once.

1996?

Not Loch Ness

(JP in a cameo role.)

Mendocino Miscellany