




































































FOREST AND STREAM. 


[AuG. 10, 1907. 



SEA AND IRIVIER TISTIING 







Light Tackle Sea Fishing.- XI. 
NEEDLESS to say, the dealers look upon light 
tackle fishing the finest thing that ever 
happened. They are only too glad to encourage 
it by giving prizes and in every possibly way. 
Never in the history of Southern California has 
there been such a sale of sea-fishing goods as 
during the past two seasons. Last summer the 
dealers on the island and in Los Angeles again 
and again ran out the lines and rods de- 
manded. : 
It is possible the Catalina Light Tackle Club 
may be obliged to take the sale of lines under 
as 
ot 
its own control. «There are many different 
makes and brands, and while all are nine-strand, 
no two are alike in strength or size. By put- 
in each strand it is easy to make 
a nine-strand as large and strong as a twelve; 
in fact, this has been done and the lines sold 
with a guaranty to test 24 pounds. The natural 
tendency on the part of the manufacturers is 
to increase the strength of the strand. Warning 
was sent to all the dealers before the opening of 
this season, but possibly the only. satisfactory 
solution will be for the club to have made a stand- 
ard line, testing not over 18 pounds and either 
furnish it or have it sold under the club name. 
One word as to the cost of fishing at Catalina, 
a matter which interests the man who intends 
going. 
ting more flax 

lotel rates vary from $2 to $5 per day. Rent 
of launch, $5 per half day, $9 per day. Many 
men fish but the half day, but to get the record 
fish one should keep “everlastingly at it. With 
incidentals one can count on $15 per day. If 
two men fish together the cost of the launch 
is divided, but the light tackle fisherman wants 
a boat to himself. It is poor fun to sit from an 
hour to five hours doing nothing while the 
other fellow is fighting a fish. 
[wo men may go out for a day’s fun and both 


fish all the time, regardless whether one has a 
fish on or not. By careful handling of their 
rods and rapid shifting of positions when the 
fish cross, tangles may be avoided, but if try- 
ing for big fellows the risk of losing a good 
one is too great. 
Visiting sportsmen cannot rely upon the com- 
pany that owns the island, or upon any one 
prominently connected with it for assistance, 
advice or favors. Unless there is a certainty of 
an immediate return in dollars and cents the 
company does virtually nothing to advance the 
sport. On the contrary, it often does much to 
discourage it. Both the Tuna Club and the 
Light Tackle Club were organized and are man- 
aged by amateurs who love the sport. So long 
Mr. T. S. Manning, Vice-President of the 
Tuna Club, and Mr. E. H. Brewster, Secretary 
and Treasurer of the Light Tackle Club, have 
homes on the island, the visiting angler may 
be sure of a-cordial greeting and sound advice. 
Those who wish to read graphic and enter- 
taining descriptions ofall the fish about Catalina 
should get Charles Frederick Holder’s delight- 
ful books. He knows the island, its haunts and 
habits better than any man living, except Mexi- 
can Joe, and in his candid moments Joe admits 
a dense ignorance concerning some of the many 
things the professor knows. 
Professor Holder organized the Tuna Club, 
systematized the use of rod and reel in tuna 
fishing, caught the first large fish, was instru- 
mental in starting the aquarium, and is a con- 
sistent advocate of the use of light tackle: last, 
but not least, he founded the “Porch Club,” 
where fishermen gather after the labors of the 
day are over and recount their exploits, real 
and imaginary. . 
It is after dusk, on the porch, that the fish 
assume their true proportions, and tales of lost 
ones take on those iridescent ‘hues of the mar- 
as 


velous which so delight the ancient fisherman. 
A book inside contains in black and white the 
record-breaking feats of the members of the 
club, and many are the narratives of brilliant 
achievements. with rod and reel, but they fish 
no more save in the deep, dark and mysterious 
recesses of the imagination or amidst those 
more alluring depths where cracked ice abounds 
and the subtle flavor of mint is rampant—there 
they often catch a “big one’ with rods no 
heaviér than a wisp of straw. 
Like-every fisherman on the retired list, the 
wisdom of these venerable anglers in¢reases day 
by day, and there they sit watching the arrivals 
on the noon boat, and the departures on the 
afternoon boat.with the phlegmatic indifference 
of age. People may come and people may go; 
it matters not to them. Their fame is secure, or 
if not absolutely secure they rivet the loose 
places each evening by modest stories which fill 
the newly arrived tender-rod with amazement 
and admiration 
Did you ever hear the professor’s story of 
the shark? 
If not, then you have a treat in store—as Mr. 
Golightly says of the waters of Harrogate. 
He wrote it out. Two editors returned it 
on the ground they did not publish fiction: an- 
other said his readers did not care for fairy 
tales; a fourth had heart disease: and signed 
the pledge. It runs something like this: 
“After the huge monster, which was some- 
thing over forty-two feet long, had dragged me 
under fourteen timés, I grabbed it by the tail to 
avoid its murderous jaws. We were in about 
sixty feet of the most beautiful water fish ever 
swam in. The green was of a translucent qual- 
ity I had never before noticed, though I had 
frequently penetrated much greater depths in 
search of sea-fauna, coral beads, and Aztec 
curios generally, fragments of which abound in 
that locality. The wreck of a Spanish galleon 
lay at my right, a reef of dead and deserted 
coral at my left; above IT could: catch the faint 
glimmer of the sun and the shadow of the ong, 
lank figure of the Seminole Chief peering down 
at me through what appeared to be a water 
glass; but was it a water glass, or a bottle of 
the potent ‘pain-killer’? I had scarce time to 
observe and make a note of all these things for 
future use when the shark with one swish of its 
mighty tail threw me clean through the side of 
the galleon, where my attention was diverted 
and at the same time arrested, by a broken 
chest, the huge iron bands of which had lone 
since rusted through, and a heap of glittering 
gold. Doubtless centuries ago * * * 4g 
pirate chief * his hoard of ill-gotten 
Sains * VA a wreck *) > just retribution. 
Holding fast to the tail of the shark with my left 
hand, I filled the pockets of my bathing suit 
with the golden doubloons * * *.”, 
At this point there is usually a reference to 
the Seminole Chief patiently waiting above and 
a call for the boy with the tray. The story may 
never be finished, but if it is, it will be some 
summer's night on the porch with the moon 
shimmering on the waters of Avalon Bay, and 
after the shade of the Seminole Chief has been 
duly propitiated by copious libations—for like a 
ghostly vision he hangs and hangs, and still 
hangs over the edge of his punt waiting, wait- 
ing, like the governor of North Carolina, for 
the Professor to rise and end the suspense. 
One afternoon, after the members had care- 
fully adjusted themselves in their chairs for a 
long and dozy session, the .Treasurer, who had 
been “ovér town” and just returned from San 
Pedro in his new launch, spoke up: 
“Well, I heard a new one yesterday.” 
“The yellowtail are working the sardines over 
there by Sugar Loaf,” the Ancient Secretary re- 
marked irrelevantly. 





“T don’t see any yellowtail,’ the Raw Mem- 
ber spoke up, gazing earnestly in the direction 
indicated. The Raw Member was not entirely 
immune. He had not absolutely lost all de- 
sire to fish; the suggestion of yellowtail in the 
bay aroused certain primitive predatory in- 
stincts which it was one of the missions of the 
Porch Club to suppress. 
“Do you see them gulls?” the Ancient Secre- 
tary asked with an accent of contempt; “well, 
under the gulls there are sardines and under 
the sardines there are yellowtail—anyway, they 
were there when I fished that spot nine years 
ago. 
“But, say, you fellows, I tell you I heard a 
good one over town yesterday,” the Treasurer 
insisted, 
“TI dry mine every night,” the Commodore in- 
terjected by way of reopening the line discussion. 
“Well, if you fellows don’t want to hear my 
story you needn’t;” the Treasurer looked an- 
noyed. 
“Fire away,” 
agingly. 
The Treasurer deftly rolled another cigarette, 
adjusted his forelock and began. 
“Well, you see, there was a fellow by the 
name of Jones ie . 
“We've heard that story before,” 
tary interrupted. 
“Shut up,’ the Treasurer was getting im- 
patient. “Jones was a great fisherman, but un- 
like the f us he told such stories about 

the: Professor answered encour- 

the Secre- 
rest ot 
the size of the fish he caught that no one be- 
lieved him and they used-to laugh when he be- 
gan one of his yarns. ‘By Jingo!’ he exclaimed 
one day, ‘I'll get a pair of scales and show you 
fellows after this,’ and sure enough Jones bought 
a set of brand-new scales and when he caught a 
fish he would weigh it in the presence of awe- 
struck friends. One day a bahy dropped into a 
neighbor’s house and they rushed over for 
Jones’ scales to weigh the kid and, by Jove, 
it weighed 55 pounds.” 
There was a loud guffaw down below the edge 
of the porch. Peering over, they saw Mexican 
Joe holding his sides and laughing like to split. 
“What are you laughing at, Joe?” the Pro- 
fessor asked with some aspcrity. 
As soon as Joe could restrain. himself he 
stammered. ; F 
“I—F la-anded on-this isla-and more’n fo-orty 
years ago, a-and that sto-ory was o-old then.” 
“But did the baby really weigh 55 pounds?” 
the Raw Member asked with interest. 
There were several moments of silence almost 
oppressive. At length the Ancient’ Secretary 
said impressively: 
“As babies go it was a large one, about the 
biggest ever landed, and the scales may have 
needed some slight adjustment for kids, but they 
were all right for fish.”’ 
As became so conservative an organization, 
the Porch Club at first looked askance at the 
use of light tackle, an innovation to be 
frowned upon. 
“May do for smelt,” the: Secretary remarked 
he gingerly handled a ten-ounce rod and 
placed it carefully on the railing. 
“These new-fangled things will . spoil 
sport,” the Commodore urged mournfully 
“That reminds me,” and the Professor gazed 
with a reminiscent expression out over the 
placid waters of the bay, “of the tuna I landed 
on a trout rod and silk line with a single gut 
leader. I played him from Church Rock to 
Long Point and back again: Four times the 
fish pulled me overboard, but each time T man- 
aged to gain a few yards of line by reeling in the 
slack. The fourth time I was about played out 
when Jim reached over with his gaff.and caught 
me by the seat of my corduroys as I was going 
under for the last time y 
as 
as 
the 



