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White Seabass
So you want to catch a white seabass. Well you better really want it. While you could get lucky and stumble onto a white seabass on any trip almost anywhere along the California coast and its islands from San Francisco south, odds are you won't.
Targeting the king of the croakers demands time and effort. In fact, centering your fishing game plan around white seabass may call for more time and more effort than just about any other species of fish.
Not buying it? Then check out the best-chance scenario of the successful white seabass trip.
Terry
Stewart, owner of the charterboat Dolores, displays a chunky white
seabass taken on a live squid during a wide-open bite in West Cove at
California's Catalina Island. Opposite: Mating squid swarm to lights
put over the side at night, with (inset) a live one hooked and ready
to bait a white seabass.*
First of all, you need a boat. Not just any boat, either. While the true heroes of Southern California white seabass fishing -- the ones who developed the techniques to be discussed here -- were commercial hook and line fishermen who fished from open skiffs, the sport experience need not, should not, be that harsh.
At the bare minimum, the boat should have some kind of cuddy cabin in which to get out of the elements and snag a few hours of sleep. You see, the ultimate white seabass game plan calls for at least 1 1/2 days on the water.
Just like the song says, Catalina Island is 26 miles across the sea, and to be successful means being at Catalina for one complete 24-hour cycle. In this game plan, that means at least one sunset, one night and one dawn.
And why Catalina? While there are many other coastal and island locations that can be just as good, if not better, for white seabass, nowhere else can match the consistency with which Catalina has all the elements needed to succeed in seabass fishing -- bait, fish, weather, accessibility and a ton of prime fishing spots.
The proof of that comes from a look at the fledgling white seabass hatchery program. To stock the hatchery at Carlsbad, California, with broodstock white seabass, officials had to turn to individual boaters for fish. They quickly had all the fish they could use -- Catalina Island fish, anyway. In an attempt to maintain a diverse genotype, the hatchery started turning down Catalina Island croaker.
The main reason for Catalina's preeminence is probably weather. The prime time for seabass fishing centers around availability of live squid, and that usually falls in the period from late fall to late spring. Coincidentally, that's when a wind/rain/storm/wave front can come through at any time. Catalina is the most protected of the Channel Islands, and offers some kind of shelter and fishable area in all but the raspiest weather.
While the above explains much of the when of seabass fishing, a lot can be said about moons and tides. This story won't say any of it. As long as you are able to fish one sunset and one sunrise, chances are you will be fishing during the right time if the seabass decide to bite that day.
The right place? Now, that's a crapshoot, but more often than not it's going to be somewhere around the squid. And the bait may be the most important reason to be around for sunset. Of course, it helps to have bait when you set up for the sunset bite . . .
I met Mark Wisch at the dock in Huntington Harbour where he kept his 26-foot Blackman, Pacific Edge. It was just after noon. By the time all the gear was loaded and the boat cleared away for action, most of an hour had gone by. But we didn't leave yet.
"Jeff called on the radio this morning and said he has a scoop of live for us," says Wisch. "He should be here any minute."
Just then Jeff Jones turned the corner in his 18-foot Invader center console No Fear. The drawn turn of his eyes, the overall pallor of his face told the story -- let's face it, he was tired.
He had used his two days off from working at Wisch's Pacific Edge tackle store to go white seabass fishing at Catalina. A tarp draped over the bow of the boat provided his only shelter. His solo effort didn't produce any croaker, but it was like he drank an Instant Night's Sleep shake when he held up a fat yellowtail for a photo.
Then came the real payoff, for us anyway. Taking a bait scoop, Jones transferred almost a scoop and a half of live squid from his bait tank to the massive Pacific Edge tank on the Pacific Edge.
Ahh, yes, live squid -- candy bait, squirters, tubes -- the champagne bait of winter fishing. Even if you don't score white seabass, good things like Jones' yellowtail can happen if you have squid.
The weather was nice and flat for the run to Catalina, and Wisch took a course for the island's east end. After looking at a few areas on the backside of the island and wetting a couple of lines, there still was plenty of light left when he set the Pacific Edge up in about 90 feet of water off Freddy's Beach. The birds in the area, the marks on the meter, all pointed to this being a good spot to get squid that night.
But we already had squid, you say. We needed more, lots more. The squid we got from Jones was for fishing right then and there. And fish we did. Fish marks started showing on the Furuno meter and those thick cylinders known as "log" barracuda chomped on the first few squid we dropped on one-ounce sliding sinker rigs.
Then a hookset produced a solid feel of head shaking disgust. Not able to rid itself of the wide-gapped hook, the fish took off in a steady burn of a run. White seabass!
The sun was setting quickly, but not as quickly as the croaker were biting. Barracuda still weaseled their way in, but nine white seabass were landed, with all but a couple released, before the need to get ready to make bait took over.
Author Rich
Holland admires the king of the croakers, resulting from an afternoon
bite at Catalina Island on Mark Wisch's Pacific Edge.
Squid already were flashing to the surface, attracted by the deck lights. Wisch put the big light in place and fired up the generator. The sun was gone. A flick of the switch and a pool of light spread wide, then was completely filled with live squid. It was like a big vacuum cleaner sucked them to the surface. The two sections in the big divided livewell were filled in minutes.
As it turned out, fishing the next morning sucked. Not that the fish didn't bite, we hooked barracuda right away in the gray. But the sea lions moved in and ate the barries up to the gill plates. Even a late afternoon retry at Freddy's came up empty for white seabass.
So, you can see the benefits of (a) getting to Catalina in the afternoon, and (b) having bait when you get there.
Being part of a network of boats fishing for seabass also has benefits. They pass you squid, you pass them squid, you tell them where the bait came up, you help each other find fish.
But if you don't run across somebody to hand off your leftover squid to, bag it up and freeze it. Fresh frozen squid -- "popsicles" -- is the bait you use when you don't have any live stuff. It's also the bait for later in the season when squidding gets tough.
And it does get tough . . .
First, the weather is rarely flat calm, and you never know which side of the island will be in the lee. A run to Catalina on the 33-foot Crystaliner Dolores from Newport Beach slid off one huge wave into a gaping hole after another. The wind howled off the east end of the island, quashing any thought of fishing those spots.
We dreaded turning the corner to the backside, but when we did there was only a light breeze and a small windswell.
The squid popsicles produced a good bite on calico bass at Salta Verde, with some barracuda eating the frozen confection when skippers Mark Gasich and Terry Stewart set the Dolores up over the bait grounds.
When the lights first were put out a little wad of squid shot through, then disappeared. And stayed gone.
Time to tie on squid jigs. Sometimes just tying on the jigs can be like a magical dance that brings up the squid. But not this time. The jigs did bring some squid up -- four of them, one at a time.
They looked lonely at the bottom of the bait tank when the decision was made to move. It already was 10 p.m. A stop off Ben Weston Rock was good for absolutely nothing. Stewart and Jack Ellis went below for some shuteye.
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Here are the tackle and techniques to remember when fishing for white seabass: Bait: Live squid, fresh dead squid, fresh frozen squid, even stinky old dead squid scraped out of the corner if that's all you can find. Hooks: Wide gap, offset long shank wire hooks in sizes 1 through 5/0. Weight: Sliding egg sinkers from 1/8 to 4-ounce sizes. Overall, a 1 or 1 1/2-ounce egg usually is best. Tackle: Rods and reels to handle 15, 20, 25 and 30-pound test. Three setups are fine. Opt for 15 and 20 as two of them, with either 25 or 30-pound for a heavy setup in case the seabass are big and stupid, or the brute homeguard yellowtail swim through. An eight-foot graphite rod is best for lighter lines, with seven-foot rods preferable for heavier pound test. Fishing Method: Slide the sinker onto the main line and tie line directly to the hook. Pin the hook through the top portion of the squid (opposite tentacles) a couple times, threading the bait up the hook shank. Cast to where the bites may be coming quicker, and allow the squid to sink to the bottom. Sometimes you need to work the bait along the bottom to get bit. The bite usually is a distinct thunk. Let line come off the reel in freespool as the fish moves away with the bait. Put reel in gear, and let the rod bend into the fish. Set hook hard. Have the drag adjusted to allow the fish to run, but still apply pressure. Long rods help here. Alternate Methods: Heavy white jigs like the Salas 6X or 6X Jr., Tady 4/0 or Iron Man No. 5 or 6 tipped with a whole squid or even fished plain can work well when jigged or bounced along the bottom. Or you can pin a squid on a white leadhead jig in a weight appropriate to get it to the bottom, and bounce and drag that. The leadhead is especially good for wide- open bites, allowing you to fish in gear and set the hook right away. This results in hooking the fish in the lip, making for a clean release. You also may just hang a jig a few feet off the bottom, stick the rod in the holder and wait for it to bend over. Fishing a bait on the bottom with the reel in clicker is good for those slow times, or when a light load on a small boat allows use of more than one rod. |
Gasich and I pulled the anchor and made a longer run to Pedestal Rock. A bit of moon peeked under the clouds to help us find the way along the island's rocky coast.
Shortly after stopping, a few singles and then a good-sized wad of squid came into the lights. This time a little ball of squid showed a definite liking for the underwater light. It would zig and zag, and stay on the edge of the light pool, but at some point would make a dash to the submerged bulb, if only for an instant.
What doomed the squid was Gasich noted they would immediately repeat their performance with a fly-by from 180 degrees in the opposite direction.
A couple of long, effective hours on the crowder followed. A crowder is a net weighted at the bottom and strung between two long poles. When pulled through the water, the net bellies out and can be manipulated into a bag by bringing the ends of the poles up and together.
We simply noted the direction of the first squid fly-by and had the crowder waiting when the squid buzzed back. We chipped off about 15 of the squid each time. And it was definitely the same little group that kept coming back. When one of the last "crowds" split the family group in half, the remaining dozen or so actually hung around on the other side of the net. The next time around we obligingly reunited them with their buddies.
Or most of them, anyway. There were three left. But Gasich had one more trick ready. We put the crowder next to the underwater bulb and turned off the overhead lights. Slurp! The bulb might as well have been a squid magnet.
With our capture of the clan complete, and more than 100 squid in the tank, it was on to Catalina's West Cove. While Catalina Island may be the most protected of the Channel Islands, West Cove is its exposed underbelly. The big cove is a swell attractor/reflector and points into the heart of where Southern California's weather comes from.
It was an uncomfortable night, but it looked good in the grey when Ellis immediately hooked and released a white seabass that fell just short of the 28-inch minimum. But, that was it.
The morning slipped by and then it was afternoon. Calico bass fishing had been good on frozen squid, but only in the most likely places would we dip a precious live bait. The temptation was there to run around to the front of the island, since some yellowtail had been popping up on those spots. But we chose to end the day on a deep-water spot near the East End.
The bite went off, with 16 white seabass and two halibut caught in just over an hour's time. All but four of the seabass were released, since the action took place during the March 15 to June 15 framework where the limit is one fish per angler. The rest of the year the limit is three fish per day.
I guess you would begin to think afternoon is the best time to fish for white seabass, and I might agree with you. But the magic of the grey of dawn is hard to deny.
The first hint of daylight revealed boats were stacked up from one end of West Cove to the other -- little skiffs from Two Harbors, giant passenger-carrying sportfishers from San Pedro, Long Beach and Newport, yachts of all sizes. A closer look revealed a cluster of those boats had every single angler on board hooked up.
Like "the wave" in a stadium, rods on other boats just down the line bent double as the massive school of seabass worked its way down the cove. One after another boats left with their limits of fish, and other boats moved in for their share.
By 10 a.m. it was over.
Of course, white seabass bit even better the afternoon before . . .
"We were on the outside a bit and it was just incredible, every bait you dropped down was a seabass," recalls Mark Wisch. "The Beak [professional skipper and writer Mike Hurt] was running the Wait 'N Sea at the time, and they showed up. We passed them some bait and Beak started asking me all these questions about the current, and where to set up and all, and finally I just yelled out, 'Just drop the damn hook!' They put their anchor down and got bit before they came tight."
Maybe white seabass fishing isn't that hard, after all.
Associate Editor Rich Holland writes the Angling West column and covers saltwater fishing for Western Outdoor News.
Rich Holland
⌐ Western Outdoors 1997. All rights reserved.
