Fishing for a Good View : Excursions: A novel way to catch the America’s Cup races is from another boat--a fishing boat. And you might bring home dinner too.

Let’s face it. The best way to see the America’s Cup is on television. There’s no way that being at the the real thing can compete with the four choppers, the on-board auto-cams, the long lenses of the chase boats.

But, you say, you need the smell of the seaweed, the tang of the salt spray and that queasy feeling in your stomach that says you’re really out in the elements?

Why not fish while you hunt for your favorite boat? As any old salt worth his/her salt will tell you, you’ll feel a lot less seasick and, in this case, a lot less bored. And if you’re lucky, you’ll catch a mackerel and see a couple of triangles.

Right now “Fisherman III” is pulling out from San Diego harbor. The large wide-bodied boat is taking out a dozen “half-day” fisherfolk. This is the afternoon sailing.

The choice--if you’re also interested in catching the America’s Cup--is a tough one: The races start between 11 a.m. and midday and last two to three hours. So if you’re into starts, you need to get up early and catch the 6:30 a.m. boat.

But if you just want to catch the results, this is the boat to catch.

The rewards start early. Even on the way out in the neck of the entrance to the San Diego Bay, the huge white boat “Defiant of the America III” towers over us as the crew runs her sails up the mast. As the main sail reaches its peak, a silhouette of The Cup--the Auld Mug herself--unfolds. Farther out, beyond the breakwater, we can see a clump of other tan-colored sails, the expensive Kevlar material that top boats have to use. It doesn’t stretch and, well, all the other guys have it, and the America’s Cup is nothing if not a fashion parade.

We are distracted by a large pelican that cruises by, swoops and lands on the stern. It ignores us and waddles around the deck scooping up the odd dying anchovy, flipping each into a beak bag, then tossing them back.

“That’s good luck,” says Dick Storch, a retired Marine who says he does this trip about once a week “to keep out of trouble.”

“Now, folks,” the on-board loudspeaker crackles. “I’d like to remind you that once we get fishing, there are certain rules we’re going to have to observe. Like overhead casting. I know most of you guys are experienced. If you’re coming out in winter like this, you’ve got to be. But I have to remind you not to cast overhead. We could lose all sorts of eyes if we try that one. We’ll catch plenty of fish just dropping the hook right overboard.”

Already, we’re in a world you don’t usually see: Near a collection of nuclear submarines, we call in at a long pontoon. “Everingham Brothers Bait,” the sign reads. We’re surrounded by pontoons absolutely laden with blue herons, white herons, the ubiquitous pterodactylian pelicans and cormorants. Lots of cormorants.

On-board, meanwhile, the guys--each of whom has taken the day off just to get away from things--are already fishing. They’re pulling in red rock bass. Dave Moore, the deckhand, is passing down a long-handled fishing net which a bait worker fills with anchovies. Live bait.

“Hey!” calls Storch. He hauls in his line--with a cormorant flailing on the end. It had dived for the fish Storch had caught and swallowed the lot--hook and all. For Kenney Schwenk, the cook, it’s no problem. He grabs the bird by the neck and, with a pair of pliers, twists the hook out of his beak. He tosses the bird back in. Within a second it is diving for somebody else’s hooks.

But the real action is out at sea. Tim Green, the 39-year-old captain, knows he has to find fish for his customers. He uses a combination of birds and Furuno fathometer, which shows schools of fish on the seabed. “When there’s a circle of birds,” he says, “I know they’ve found something I haven’t.”

The ideal is what fishermen call a “meatball.” That’s a feeding frenzy of fish on fish. Big fish like bass surround a school of bait fish like anchovies and trap them in a tight circle. The birds spot the water boiling and dive into the middle of the free meal.

But we have no such luck. Green anchors us about a mile offshore, where he’s seen something on his fathometer, and we drop our lines.

As for the boat racing?

A couple of red New Zealand America’s Cup boats, leaning like towers of Pisa, slink silently past, but no fisherfolk stop what they’re doing. Later, when the wind drops, the Italians drift by. They have abandoned the race because it’s unofficial. They drop sail, raise the red-and-gold lion banners of the city of Venice and await a tow into port. The two remaining racing boats are just blips on the horizon.

This fish-while-you-watch method is definitely the right way.

“I should be at work,” says a guy sporting an obscene Simpson T-shirt, “but I got this call this morning, ‘Let’s go fishin’ ’ and, hell, sometimes you’ve got to take a break. Like the Bible says, ‘When each of us is born, we are allocated a certain number of hours--but God doesn’t count the hours we spend fishing.’ ”

The America’s Cup boats either have given up or have finished without any great fuss. Somehow they are getting less and less important. OK, so they’re computer-run super boats. They are worth millions of bucks. They’ve been brought from the ends of the earth just to do this. Now, as evening comes and Dick Storch is starting to land big sand bass, they’ve become sails like any other sails.

Dave Moore takes a fighting mackerel off someone’s hook. He tosses it back into the sea. Our pelican flutters back on his hind legs and makes a perfect catch. With a flip he rearranges the poor mackerel in his beak bag so the swallowing’s easier.

It’s dark when we up-anchor. San Diego is just a line of lights dividing the dark sea from the dark sky. A huge ghostly cruise liner looms over us. The wind is chilly and most of us retreat to the galley.

Kenny Schwenk is cooking up the most delicious-smelling burgers imaginable. People are starting their fish stories. Dave Moore’s biggest was a 45-pound sea bass. But Tim Green says they’re getting smaller. “In the 25 years I’ve been doing this, this coast has gone down drastically. When I started, we used to regularly catch 25-pound fish. Now they’re 1 to 2 pounds. There’s too many of us out here, they don’t have time to grow.”

Still, the guys here are happy. Edward Delgado wins $12 in the day’s jackpot for the biggest catch: a 2-foot sand bass that weighs maybe 2 pounds.

When we get back in, the Australian America’s Cup boat is ashore, its keel shrouded in plastic. Security rules. On the other side, the Italians have their two boats hidden from view too.

So, we didn’t really catch what was going on, but we can at least say we’ve seen an America’s Cup race and waved at the guys.

And we brought home dinner for the next three nights.

Fishin’ ‘n’ Watchin’ M Landing, 2803 Emerson St., San Diego, is offering special spectator cruises to see America’s Cup races.

If you want to fish while you watch, prices are $24 for a half day. Fishing pole hire: $5. Fishing license: $6.05.

If you just want to watch, better views are available on spectator cruises:

* The Defender elimination races go through April; the Challenger elimination races start Saturday and run through April. Price: $30.

* Next up, the Challenger and Defender elimination semifinals: $50.

* After that, the Challenger and Defender elimination finals: $90.

* America’s Cup match race, May 9 to about May 14: $125.

For information on cruises, contact H & M Landing: (619) 222-1144. For dates, times and other details of America’s Cup races: (800) 92CUP92.