The Monkeyface News

The Sickness and The Cure

 

 

                                                          Rita Hayworth

What can I say?  This Rita Hayworth sickness is really a drag (no pun).  I did it again.  Drove 117 miles to sit on the ocean for 14 hours and catch nothing.  Stopped in at Moss Landing to see three consecutive boats with 2, 2 and then 5 fish onboard--slugs all.  Jealousy is not even the word.  I would have stolen one of these lunkers if the guys hadn't been doting over them so compulsively.  Imagine that!  Stealing some guy's Rita Hayworth!  Is that what it's come to?  I'm afraid so my people. I'm afraid so.

 

 

 

How to Cure Your Rita Hayworth Sickness: Marilyn Monroe

And then... after writing this the phone rang.  It was Nigel.  Nigel wanted to go Marilyn fishing in the morning. I tried to explain that I'd just spent three and a half days floating around on the Pacific Ocean and was starting to doubt my sanity.  Nigel wasn't hearing it.  I tried backing out four or five ways: it's my anniversary!  I'm sick and tired of fishing.  I'll bring the curse of skunkhood to your boat.  I really can't see driving all the way to the Richmond launch ramp at 6am.  

But when Nigel suggested that I board at Crissy Field, (yes he backed the Grady White -- at least I think it was a Grady -- into the sand) there was little I could do. Sometimes a convenient launch site is all it takes. Thank god I don't live near Princeton Harbor, I'd never leave the water!

 

    Actually, Marilyn is biting on 'chovies, not flowers.

 

So to make a long story longer, I boarded at Crissy at 7:30 (jealous looks from all the pre-work dog walkers), sped out the gate, ran up the hill for twenty minutes, dropped one line in the water, 20 pulls. Bam.  One fish in the boat.  15 minutes later 2 in the box.  45 minutes later 3.  Then two shakers.  Then bang the fourth Marilyn--limits--one hour after the troll began. Barely legal but who's complaining? Zipped back inside the gate (just as the swell was getting ugly) and back to Crissy Field by 10:15.  Sitting here at the desk where I am writing this at 10:30am.  If every man on earth could start every day of his life this way, there would be no wars, no depression, no ennui.  The problems of space travel, nuclear waste, world hunger, racism, inability for political parties to get along, water management, peak oil, over population, child abuse, cancer, and human stupidity would be summarily erased.  Today, there is no doubt, I will conquer the world.

Yes, I know the fish were small, but even a tiny Marilyn will have this effect on a person.  She is our sacred fish. The archetype.  The goddess.  Say what you will about Rita Hayworth.  In the end, it's all about Marilyn... at least here in the San Francisco area it is... at least here in my heart it is.

              Lombard with his Eagle Lake trout, I mean King Salmon.

 

Right, more of these small kings but really... a 24.5 inch king is okay with me.  And a boat limit for a round trip 2.7 hour fishing excursion, where the pick up and drop off point is 12-15 minutes from my front door is pretty durned awesome.  Feel me?

Okee.  Gotta run.  Fish to fillet.

PS: if you still have no idea what I'm talking about with the whole Rita Hayworth/Marilyn thing go here: 

The code.

Kirk-out

Too Much Drag

 

And so... thanks largely to my own efforts (a-hem) the monkeyface eel enters the annals of haute cuisine!  

Was contacted by the folks at a totally amazing catering company, that specializes in the robust flavors of the Izakaya school of Japanese cuisine.  These folks were part of the big 40th anniversary Chez Panice celebration two weekends ago.  The theme of the big $500 a head fundraising dinner they were preparing was local, commercially under-utilized fishes.  So I went ahead and mooched the idea of monkeyface eels and surf smelt in front of them and guess what?  They bit. 

Then I experienced a wave of panic, since I wasn't actually sure if my license covered monkeyface eels. So I called a local warden who assured me it did.  Went out the next day and bagged 5 eels for the big shindig. Don't worry.  I landed them legally at a local fishmongery.  And let me tell you something... you know you're dealing with an under-utilized species when every single person at the fish co. (fillet guys, truck drivers, buyers, salesmen et al), comes over to look at your fish.  

The thing I found so cool was that the chef used the carcasses of the eel in his presentation.  When he told me he was planning to do this I was kind of like--dude, obviously you've never smelled a monkeyface carcass!  But when I beheld his creation, my mind abruptly changed.  20 years ago people eating an outlandish or exotic species did not actually want to know what it looked like.  But in today's foodie-centric California, everyone does.

Behold the deep-fried wonderment of haute cuisine monkeyface!  The actual fillets were cut into small strips and served as crispy deep-fried skewers. But alas, I didn't take a picture of that. Was too busy eating them!

 

 

{In order to decode the rest of this post, please go here: Big Sexy Gamefish}.

What else?

Suffice it to say that the reason I have not been blogging is that I have been out on the Pacific Ocean. This, however, is not necessarily the happy statement that everyone thinks it is.  Yes I did manage to get my only Marilyn Monroe of 2011.  This can not be denied.  They'll never take that away from me (whoever the they who takes things away may be).

 

           Is the one on the right an Eagle Lake trout or a Chinook Salmon?  You decide! 

 

And as far as  Raquel Welch is concerned, I seem to be able to draw one reasonable-sized Raquel to me whenever I go fishing (especially the turquoise variety).

 

                     Hard to complain about a blue Raquel

 

Nevertheless. As far as Rita Hayworth goes I am lost. What can I say?  Oh man. The thing is, I just haven't put in the time.  This is true.  I have to keep reminding myself of this.  Another thing I evidently have to remind myself of is to lay off the drag. 

First thing JB told me after losing his first Rita:  you really have to lay off the drag and let 'em run. Then Mikey D. repeats this, You can't horse these fish Kirk, you gotta let 'em have line.  Even the great Niko von Sharky told me this long ago.  

But when the moment arose, (after two days of fishing Monterey Bay with absolutely nothing to show for it) and the clicker went off, and the line started screaming off the reel, I grabbed the rod, and what, fair reader, do you think I did?  

That's right... I tightened down the drag.

 

Snap Goes The Leader

 

                   Rita says: "Let me run!"

 

At least I felt the power for 24 seconds... felt that monstrous surge... at least I can say I've had one on. Ugh.  Honestly, I think I'd be better off if I'd never even hooked up.  

My gawd but that was a huge fish!

Funny thing tho.  Afterwards, I'm sitting in the boat berating myself for Rita failure and Mikey D. asks me how many days I've actually put in fishing for Rita Hayworth.  The answer is three.  "And how many times have you actually hooked up," he asks, "once?"

There was really no need to continue with the rhetorical questions from this point.  Suffice it to say, it's gonna take a lot more practice, potential failure, and actual effort before I land my Rita.  Plain and simple.  Rita doesn't usually go home with a guy after one date--she ain't that type. And the truth is, I'm not gonna lie, I don't have a whole lot of experience landing anything over 50 pounds.  In short, it's kind of like: welcome to the major leagues kid, here's a 97 mile an hour fastball under your chin to help you get acclimated.  

 'Nuff said.

 

Fish Killers At The Monterey Bay Aquarium

 

                                                              Kinda like this.

 

What else... after skunking all day, Mikey and I decided to invade the Monterey Bay Aquarium.  Reeking of dead squid and feeling a slight pang of guilt as we looked at all the creatures we've killed over the years.  One thing for sure the monkeyface eel in the intertidal tank is about 3 pounds heavier than the current state record.  I mean... damn, that's one big prickleback!

Probably wasn't such a great idea for Mike to keep advertising to the docents what a champion eel murderer I am.  They kept looking at me like... well... like a murderer.  Bragging that I've tanned the skins of dozens of eels wasn't winning me any points either.  Thanks Mike.  

Not sure if it was just me, but it felt kinda strange being in there.  Or maybe the strange sensation was due to the lightening of my wallet.  Holy hell, 30 bones!

Nevertheless, that pelagic tank is unreal.  Though I think I have a new understanding of what hell is: being a sardine in a tank filled with bonito, yellowfin tuna, mahi mahi and sharks.  Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.  Yikes.  Kinda fun watching them get picked off and scarfed though, I'm not gonna lie.

Anyhoo.  Here's a little flick concerning our visit to the aquarium.  Going with the Weill/Brecht thing, for obvious reasons (good music for a couple of murderers).

FYI:  The reason I was so fascinated with reef perch is that I've never seen that species locally, and it's one of only three species of surf perch that I have failed to snap pictures of, and oh yeah, I just happen to be a fish nerd.  You may have noticed.

Okay gotta scram.

Kirk-out. 

 

  

My Blue Heaven

 

 

 

                                           "At length did cross an albatross..."

 

 

Y'know.  Just a little fishing trip to the islands.  Nothing unique except all three fishermen were fish samplers (or former fish samplers).  Oh yeah... and the glassy conditions! Calmest day I've ever experienced out there--pond-like, in fact.  Anyhoo, just thought I'd share the video.  And hey, it is monday morning!

 

        The title of this print:  "Enchanted With The Delightful Prospect Off The Bar."

 

BTW:  check out this cool link: Farallones

 

All right here's my Monday Movie installment (see below).  Heading out to try to get a salmon at California City.  More later.