ANYONE CAN WRITE THEIR OWN FISH STORY : For as Little as $18, You Can Head to Sea and Play Catch

OK, so slipping a hook through a live anchovy’s gill and tossing it off the side of a boat to attract larger “game fish” isn’t exactly athletic. But it is one of the most widely enjoyed participatory sports in the country--sportfishing.

In a 1985 survey of readers, Sports Illustrated found sportfishing to be the third-most popular sport in the United States, behind bicycling and swimming.

The commercial fleet here includes more than 130 vessels. According to the San Diego sportfishing council, a half-million people take trips out of San Diego Bay each year--and that number is growing at a rate of 30% annually.

Landings in San Diego take in an annual haul of $11.6 million in ticket sales alone. The San Diego Unified Port District cuts itself a healthy $650,000 chunk of that sum.

For the recreational fisherman, the game is not merely to procure dinner but also to conquer a piece of the Pacific Ocean.

Some are more easily conquered than others. In the San Diego area, the kelp beds off Point Loma will be much more giving than, say, the waters around the Coronado Islands. The fish that eat and sleep in the safety of the kelp aren’t as large and don’t put up as hard of a fight as those near the islands.

The kelp beds yield calico bass, mackerel, Californian scorpion fish, rock cod and small barracuda, none of which are known for putting up much of a struggle. The real fight, the real sport in sportfishing, comes from fish such as the yellowtail that crowd around the Coronado Islands.

“That’s a lot more intense (than the kelp beds),” said Tim Green, a skipper out of H&M; Landing for 12 years. “People put a lot of pressure on themselves to catch yellowtail.”

A nine-hour trip to the Coronado Islands, the shortest offered, will cost $25, and there’s no guarantee of coming home with a fish. The best bet for yellowtail is a $50 full-day cruise, which takes off in the early evening and, along the way, snares some live octopus to use as bait.

This year’s hot yellowtail bite (it’s down to around a total of 400 per day now, but only a few weeks ago was up in the thousands) has been largely because of the use of octopus.

A five-hour trip to the kelp beds goes for $18.

Cost is a main reason many prefer the shorter half-day trips. As Bill Milliron put it, “You get more production for your money (at the kelp beds). It’s a substantial investment to go out to the islands.”

There’s another plus. “Some people just like to catch bass,” Green said. “It takes a lot more finesse (than going after yellowtail). It’s a lot different than a 20- to 30-pound fish tugging against you.”

The attraction in saltwater fishing is difficult to pinpoint.

Milliron, a 27-year-old Navy man, sees fishing as both an investment and a relaxing day in the sun.

“Where else can you go and have fun for the day, and catch meals for days ahead?” he asked. “In baseball and football, you go watch a game, and it’s over. Here, you make friends, a lot of good friends, and you get something out of it. It’s my favorite pastime. I started when I was about my little girl’s age.”

Shoshonnah Milliron is 6 and has already been indoctrinated as to the finer points of sea fishing, not just by her father but by mother Helaina, who was dragged out on a boat by Bill years ago.

“She was a little squirmish at first,” Bill Milliron said. “But now I can’t keep her away from it.”

Earlier this week, in fact, Helaina skipped work in favor of an afternoon on the Pacific.

“I just like to come out,” she said.

One other note: Helaina, the student, says she has outgrown her professor. When asked who the better fisher is, Helaina answered, “I am. (Bill) won’t tell you that, but I will.”

Actually Bill was more truthful than his wife had predicted. “There’s been days when she’s put me to shame,” he said.

Like the Millirons, Corey Sanden, 18, a recent graduate of San Diego High and a professional fisherman (he works for a local bait supply) couldn’t say just what it is that keeps him coming back. He admits to a kind of addiction.

“I fish for a living and even on my days off I go fishing,” he said. “I could do it all day.”

On a trip earlier this week out of H&M; Landing, Sanden was the big winner--at the bait barge alone. He used a candy bar lure to hook seven bass in 10 minutes while the crew was loading live anchovies. That boat had yet to exit the bay.

Others weren’t so lucky. Valerie Finger of Girdwood, Ala., spent the first half of the excursion simply changing bait but wasn’t discouraged. “This is nice even if I don’t catch a fish,” she insisted.

Finger finally did manage to land a mackerel, the only one caught on the afternoon. And her screams let everyone know what she had accomplished.

The big fight of the day was put up by a fish that finally won out. Milliron hooked what he guessed was about a nine-pound bass. Unfortunately, the fish got caught deep in the kelp and, between that and Milliron’s reeling, managed to free himself after a 10-minute struggle.

“That’s one of the hazards of getting way down in the kelp,” Milliron said. “You just have to pull and hope they free themselves--or hope they don’t free the hook.”

Milliron, as were most, used the free-floating method. The theory is simple enough--the live anchovy hooked to the line will take off swimming once dropped in the water and, it is hoped, will attract some interest.

“It’s the food chain,” said Jim Supplee, who was in San Diego vacationing from Williamsburg, Va. “The big guys eat the little guys. It’s that simple.”

There is an alternative: sinkers (just one-half- to one-ounce weights). John Bagey, vacationing from Phoenix, caught a rock cod while using a sinker.

“The only reason I caught that was because I had about 300 yards of line out,” he said. And because the anchovy, with the help of the sinker, made it all the way to the ocean floor.

James Horne of Scottsdale, Ariz., also used a sinker to hook a California scorpion fish. Like rock cod, scorpion fish live on the ocean bottom.

There’s also Sanden’s method: lures. But the fisherman is then left with the work of casting and slowly reeling in over and over again--and often in vain. And lures get snagged if the boat is anchored too close to the kelp. They have a definite advantage to people who don’t like slipping a hook through a squirming anchovy’s gill.

If lures are not available, there is still one other alternative to baiting your own hook, as Finger found out: Let the crew do it for you.

“I just can’t do that,” she said with a sour face.

Crew members are usually more than willing to lend their assistance. Said Milliron: “These guys (Gerald Smith and Albert Bradley when Milliron last went out) work with people real well. They’re always willing to give you a helping hand, and that’s what it takes to get you back out here. They’ve always been that way; they just take pride in their work.”

Perhaps no one takes pride more than each boat’s captain, who often gets hung with the blame if no fish are caught. He is, after all, the guy who decides where to drop anchor.

But finding a good fishing hole is not as much of a guessing game as it would appear. Green takes note of how the current is flowing toward the kelp, the wind conditions and where the birds are hovering.

But more than anything else, a skipper trusts his experience.

“I’ve been fishing off Point Loma here every day for years,” Green said. “I’ve been up and down the area hundreds of times; I know the water.”

Green has his followers.

“In the wintertime, when the fishing’s slow,” Milliron said, “he guarantees you a fish. If you don’t get a fish, then you get a free re-ride any time.”