Fishing on Catalina’s ‘Other Side’ a Sight to Behold

Beyond the turquoise shallows of the barren island, in the deeper, bluer water of the outside channel, a plume of mist shot into the air, indicating the presence of a whale.

“Now we’ve got Moby Dick coming over too?” observed Susan Van Laningham, one of four passengers aboard Bongos II out of Davey’s Locker in Newport Beach. “Why don’t we just go over and harpoon that whale?”

She was joking, of course. Her comment was meant merely to illustrate how ridiculously good the fishing had been Tuesday on the windward side of Santa Catalina Island.

The prevailing westerly had not materialized; there was only a breath of wind out of the southeast and it was refreshingly cool on an otherwise balmy spring day.

What did materialize was one of the wildest times on the water during this young season, involving the island’s most prized and powerful game fish--yellowtail and white seabass.

With Van Laningham was Sabrina Downing. They were new to this kind of fishing, but not so new that they didn’t know that making squid--catching it for bait--has nothing to do with whipping up a batch of calamari.

And, boy, did they make a splash.

Women at these fishing grounds are about as rare a sighting as the great white whale to which Van Laningham referred.

These two caught everyone’s eye. One of the squid-boat captains went so far as to offer Bongos skipper Richard Ruffini two huge scoops of the “candy bait” for one of the women.

Ruffini shrugged and feigned a smile, then looked at the women as if to apologize. They probably expected as much and did not seem overly offended.

And if they were at all intimidated by what they were getting into, it didn’t show.

As guests of longtime friends Pete Gray, co-host of the “Let’s Talk Hook-up” radio show on XTRA, and Barry Brightenburg, who manufactures the popular Fish Trap lures, the women were in great company.

And being aboard one of the Bongos boats, high-speed luxury yachts that cater mostly to upscale clientele and whose service-oriented skippers boast excellent reputations for catching fish, they undoubtedly were the envy of everyone lining the rails of the nearby “cattle boats.”

But it didn’t really matter what boat you might have been on Tuesday, as something special was happening at the island. The water had cleaned up after successive days of strong wind, yellowtail had moved in en masse for a morning bite that would last two hours, and the almost always elusive white seabass turned out to be anything but, breaking the midday silence for an afternoon run that provided the perfect ending to a perfect day.

It was Catalina at its best, a spring fling most anglers only dream about.

“It was magical,” said Brightenburg, who has been in the fishing industry most of his life. “But then it’s always magical back here.”

Many share his feelings about the other side of Catalina. Its towering cliffs show no signs of civilization and hide a bustling mainland that is so close but seems so far away.

The deeper water just beyond the cliffs is a rich, beautiful blue, while the sandy shallows of the small, deserted beaches are almost like Tahiti’s in color, on the bluer side of turquoise.

Each spring, these waters are visited periodically by enormous schools of yellowtail, strong-swimming members of the jack family valued for their fight and flesh. The bag limit is 10 a person.

Also in the spring, white seabass begin to spawn in the shallows. These broad-tailed members of the croaker family, which reach weights of 80 pounds or more, are even more popular than yellowtail, largely because of their elusive nature but also because of the sweetness of their tender, white flesh.

As a protective measure during the spawn, the bag limit is only one. But the mere chance of catching one white seabass is enough to draw thousands to the island each spring. The limit increases to three in mid-June.

“You never want to come here after a good day, because it’s rarely good two days in a row,” Gray said. “You want to come after a bad day, because then it has a better chance of being good.”

Monday must have been very bad, then, because Tuesday was extraordinary.

The yellowtail began to bite just as the sun began to appear over the cliffs and almost immediately after one of the women popped a rock ‘n’ roll CD into the player.

Van Laningham boated the first fish, an estimated 12-pounder, after being handed a rod by one of the men. Gray and Brightenburg, who have subdued countless yellowtail over the years, were intent on hooking fish and passing the rods to the women, who were willing takers until finally deciding they wanted to hook and land their own fish.

Both caught on quickly.

But neither could come to grips with handling the six-inch squid used for bait. The squirmy little cephalopods do take getting used to. They don’t like being grabbed and they’ll latch on to your fingers and bite if you don’t handle them just right. And they detest being put on a hook, showing their displeasure by squirting ink all over the place.

But game fish are wild over squid, as the women soon found out.

The yellowtail came through in waves, prompting hoots and hollers that carried far across the water. The radio crackled with voices of other skippers, lamenting their losses and boasting of their success.

Ruffini and second skipper John Taylor spent time between bites mopping up blood and ink. Van Laningham and Downing spent time between bites brushing their hair and freshening up.

“This sure is a dirty sport,” said Downing, reflecting on what was going on around her.

On Bongos II, 13 yellowtail to about 20 pounds were landed and several others released before the group decided to move inside and try to muster up a few seabass.

As is often the case, things started dreadfully slow. Brightenburg went below for a nap, while Van Laningham and Downing went to the bow to soak up some sun.

Gray kept fishing, and eventually hooked and landed a 15-pound seabass, prompting a reunion at the stern.

Not long thereafter, it was as if somebody had flipped a switch. A small parcel of ocean about 100 yards off the beach had erupted with life. Only one boat was on the scene at first, but soon there were 10.

Hookups were constant, the air filled with shouts.

It was total chaos aboard the cattle boats, where more fish were lost than caught because of tangles, as 20- to 30-pound seabass were dashing in all directions.

On Bongos II, the success rate was much higher because of the small passenger load, but there still was pandemonium.

One giant croaker crashed the surface after a squid being reeled in for a fresh one.

It took off in great haste, but was eventually reeled in and hauled over the rail at an estimated 32 pounds.

Downing was pulled to the bow and back by her lone seabass. Brightenburg got his and Van Laningham got one too, not long after the whale had come into view.

A long day on the water was complete.

It was time to return to Newport Beach, where it was universally agreed on to celebrate at a local restaurant, where making squid had everything to do with whipping up a batch of calamari.