Half-day trips get to the meat of the matter

Noe Sandoval dreamed about catching fish.

He awoke to a blaring fire alarm, triggered by smoke from the frying pan, in which was a fish breakfast being prepared by his girlfriend.

Sandoval ate his fish, then drove from Watts to Marina del Rey, boarded the New Del Mar and reeled in more fish till the sun kissed the horizon and the captain bellowed, “Wind ‘em up folks. It’s time to go home.”

Only then did the fisherman acknowledge his problem, explaining sheepishly, “My girl don’t want me bringing home any more fish.”

*

It’s a bright and balmy fall afternoon aboard the New Del Mar out of Marina del Rey Sportfishing.

The vessel is en route to the outer reaches of Santa Monica Bay, and a Santa Ana condition has rendered the ocean glassy and smooth.

Fishermen are making small talk while tying on sinkers and hooks. Deckhand James Cassidy is cutting squid. Galley cook Victor Ramirez is collecting jackpot money while burgers sizzle on the grill.

Gulls and pelicans hover overhead. And, alas, California sea lions, a bigger nuisance than wind or even rain, are following along for what they know will soon be an easy meal.

Richard Urban, 59, is still shopping for dinner, having caught only an 8-pound lingcod on the morning excursion.

“People think if they go to the fish market, they get fresh fish,” says the Northridge angler. “Naw. Most of the time it’s been four days before it even hits shore and another two or three before it goes to the market.

“There’s nothing like pulling it out of the water at 3 in the afternoon and having it on the barbecue at 7.”

*

Half-day trips this time of year are essentially meat runs. The targeted species -- mostly sculpin and rockfish -- are listless on the line but share one key characteristic: tender, succulent flesh.

But catching them is only part of the allure. Urban, for example, is a counselor at Tarzana Treatment Center and requires an occasional escape from his dealings with rehab patients.

“I come out once every two or three weeks,” he says. “Otherwise the job makes me crazy.”

It is a peaceful experience, a slow-paced type of fishing. There are no crowds, only die-hard regulars and stragglers.

“We depend on the regulars who come out, rain or shine, if the fishing’s good or if the fishing’s bad,” says Matt Hough, the vessel’s captain. “And sometimes they bite and sometimes they don’t, and the captain’s always the hero if they catch fish, and an idiot if they don’t.”

The first stop is a sculpin haunt two miles from shore, 120 feet above a rocky bottom.

Sculpin rarely exceed 15 inches and put up no resistance but must be handled carefully, as poison in their spiny fins can make a grown man cry.

Urban was once stuck in the thumb, and his arm swelled and throbbed for hours.

“The last time I felt that much pain was when I was 5 years old and slammed my hand in the car door,” he says.

Thankfully, these anglers exercised proper caution while easily catching their five-fish limits.

Hough has piloted the spacious vessel to deeper water, a few miles offshore near the north end of Manhattan Beach, to try for lingcod and rockfish.

Lingcod are unsightly, vicious members of the greenling family. They grow to 80 pounds and will eat almost anything, including other lingcod.

They have gaping mouths and razor-sharp teeth, and their flesh has a greenish tint. But the lingcod puts up a fight and its flesh cooks up firm and white, so it’s a prize. Urban caught his 8-pounder on a live mackerel and is using mackerel again, but the sea lions have regularly stolen the bait fish. “We didn’t have this problem in the morning,” the angler complains.

The blubbery mammals have also pilfered live sardines from the hooks of other anglers. Hough moves the boat, but the sea lions follow. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing we can do about it ... legally,” the captain says.

*

Fortunately, the sea lions ignore the cut bait and the rockfish with their spiny fins. Several species have been hauled aboard, in various shades of red.

Ben Clavecilla of Pomona lands a large copper rockfish that will ultimately win him the jackpot. Sandoval tops that with a slightly larger vermilion rockfish, then kicks himself for not having entered the jackpot.

However, though a novice, Sandoval has caught more fish than most, using cut sardines, squid and the secret weapon: uncooked shrimp he brought from home.

“I just got the fishing bug in me last month,” he explains with a grin. “And from last month till now, I’ve probably been out on boats eight or nine times.”

As the fire department is well aware.

pete.thomas@latimes.com