Kayak Fishing for Pacific Sheephead Palos Verdes, CA

The Fun Of Kayak Fishing For Pacific Sheephead

It was one of those perfect mornings that seemed almost too good to be true. The sun had barely started to stretch its golden fingers across the sky when I pulled up to the beach at Palos Verdes, California. The air was crisp and clean, the Santa Ana winds giving the ocean a bit of a bite but not enough to keep us from getting out on the water. The horizon was sharp and clear, so much so that Catalina Island seemed like it was just a couple miles away, right off the coast. If you squinted, you could almost wave to the people there, though I’m pretty sure they weren’t waving back.

I met up with my buddy, Liam, right at the beach. The plan was simple—launch our kayaks, paddle out to the kelp beds, and see what we could pull up from the depths. As I geared up, my anticipation was building. There’s something about being out on the water at dawn that feels like stealing a secret from the universe. It’s peaceful, yet full of potential.

I’m not going to lie; I had a bit of an adventure moment as soon as I launched. You see, I’m one of those guys who’s pretty attached to my hats. It’s kind of my thing. So naturally, as soon as I started paddling, the wind picked up just enough to whip my favorite cap right off my head. It soared through the air like it had a mind of its own.

I probably looked like a character in a slapstick comedy, yelling at Liam, who was already a few feet ahead of me, “My hat! Get my hat!”

Liam turned just in time to see my hat fluttering away. I could hear his chuckle even over the sound of the wind. “It’s just a hat, man,” he yelled back, but then he spotted it drifting toward the rocks by the shoreline. “Don’t worry, I got it!”

Video of our day on the water

I made a mental note to thank him later and told myself that no matter how much I loved that hat, I’d survive without it. I paddled out further, trying to focus on the task at hand, but part of me was still keeping an eye on the shore to see if Liam actually retrieved it. Spoiler alert: he did. But that’s a story for another time.

After a short paddle, we reached the kelp beds. There’s something majestic about these underwater forests. The kelp sways gently with the current, creating a strange, almost otherworldly ambiance as you tie up your kayak. I anchored myself to a thick patch of kelp, and it was go time. I grabbed my rod and tossed my line into the water with the kind of ease that only comes from a few years of practice—or at least I hoped that’s how it looked. I could feel the anticipation building with every cast, and before long, I was getting bites. Fish after fish came up to greet me. Nothing too big, but the action was steady, which is always a good sign.

Meanwhile, Liam was fishing next to me, trying his hand at catching a Pacific Sheephead for the first time. He had that look on his face that’s a cross between hope and desperation—the “please let this happen” kind of expression. He was casting, reeling in, casting again. I’d already caught a few and was feeling pretty good about myself when I noticed he hadn’t even gotten a nibble.

I tried to encourage him. “You’re doing fine, man. They’ll bite, just keep at it.” But deep down, I knew the longer he went without catching anything, the more frustrated he’d get. It was a waiting game. Patience is something that comes with experience, and in my years of fishing, I’d learned to wait. Liam was still learning.

As if the ocean was in on the joke, the off shore wind started to pick up a little more. It wasn’t a big deal at first, just a little extra breeze to keep things interesting. But then a few moderate swells came through, and before I knew it, my kayak was rising and falling with two opposing directions. The wind and swell were a tag team that I was not ready for.

I was in the middle of congratulating Liam on a reef fish he caught when my kayak lurched backwards unexpectedly. One second, I was sitting there talking, and the next, I was in the water. It wasn’t dramatic—no big splash or slow-motion “why me?” moment. I just found myself sinking into the cold, frigid waters of the Pacific. I swear the temperature of that water could’ve frozen the life right out of a person. It was like a slap from the ocean that said, “Hey, welcome back to reality.”

For a brief moment, all I could think was, this is it. This is how I die. Not from some daring sea monster attack, but from freezing my butt off. My breath hitched, and I panicked for a second, but I quickly snapped out of it. I had been fishing long enough to know how to handle myself in the water. I grabbed the kayak and started to pull myself back in, my body a little shocked from the cold.

Liam, of course, was laughing his head off. “You okay?” he asked, barely able to get the words out between his chuckles. The guy had a great sense of humor, but there’s something about a buddy laughing at you while you’re soaked to the bone that makes you question the meaning of life.

“I’m fine,” I managed to say through chattering teeth. “Let’s stay out here a little longer. You haven’t caught your first Sheephead yet!”

One thing that also helped out my situation is that I was not wearing any cotton clothing. As the saying goes 'cotton kills'. Always wear quick drying materials like these... Merino wool Nylon Polyester Spandex

These materials are designed to wick moisture away from the skin and dry quickly due to their low absorbency rate. Here are some things I like to wear when I am out on the water or hiking. Wicking Long Sleeve Fishing Active Hoodie - https://amzn.to/3Vk1Eiv Tactical Sport Fleece Hoodie Jacket - https://amzn.to/3Zji4c0 Waterproof Rain Over Pants - https://amzn.to/4fYGZJi Water shoes - https://amzn.to/3ZwVnm3

Back to the story, Liam gave me a look. I was clearly a little delirious from the cold, but I was determined. “We’re staying out here,” I insisted. “You’re getting that Sheephead. We’re not going in yet.”

He must have been equally determined because, five minutes later, he hooked up to a big one. It was a beautiful male Pacific Sheephead, a solid 17 inches of prime catch. Liam’s face lit up, and the satisfaction in his eyes was contagious. “Finally!” he yelled, holding up his catch. He couldn’t stop grinning, and neither could I. There was something special about helping someone land their first fish—especially when it was a beauty like that.

But, as much as I wanted to celebrate Liam’s victory, the cold had started to take over. I could feel my muscles stiffening, and my teeth were chattering so hard I thought I might chip one. I knew it was time to pack it in.

We paddled back to the beach, the wind now a relentless companion as we made our way toward the shore. By the time we landed, I was more than ready to get warm and dry. My fingers were numb, my lips blue, but Liam’s grin was still there, and that was enough to keep me going.

After we warmed up in the truck and ate some snacks—because nothing says "survival" like a granola bar after nearly freezing to death—we headed home. I could tell Liam was on cloud nine about his catch, and I couldn’t blame him. It was a beauty of a fish, and he’d earned it. We cleaned his Sheephead together, and as I filleted the fish, I couldn’t help but think back to the morning—wind, cold water, a hat lost to the sea, and a first fish that would be remembered for years to come.

It wasn’t the most perfect day, but it was darn close.