
My cousin Michael and I had reserved spots aboard the Gatecrasher well ahead of sturgeon season. Our Sunday finally came, and we met at the Pittsburg Marina, wide-eyed and toting enough food to feed an army.
It was a gorgeous, clear morning, and by 7:30 am we were off and running towards Grizzly Bay. Once anchored, we were politely quarantined to the cabin of the 28-foot Farallon while Captain Zack Medinas and Deckhand Virginia Salvador started preparations. Virginia advised with a grin that it was for our safety. Zack attached cheesecloth bundles filled with salmon roe to the hooks, and Virginia masterfully catapulted them into the air, strategically placing lines from ten different rods. That accuracy comes with a lot of practice and is no easy feat considering there are 20-ounce sinkers at each end of each line.
My guess is that we were in here because Zack wanted to protect his secret recipe, Michael laughed. He was taking it to his grave!
Once we were all set up, we were allowed back on deck.
I had just started digging into some smoked salmon my cousin had brought on board for our trip when I heard the captain yell.
"Rod four! STACY, YOU'RE UP!"
Cracker crumbs flew out of my lap as I shuffled as quickly as I could towards the starboard side of the boat. The tip of a rod in the back corner went from a gentle flick to a full on bend, so out of its holder it came and the battle began.
This fish was, in a word, ANGRY!
I was forcefully pulled to the right, and nearly everyone on the boat pitched in by removing seven other rods out of their holders and lifting them out of the way to avoid a tangled-up mess. When I could, I planted my feet in an attempt to gain some semblance of control. Other times, I felt I had no control. This fish was hooked, and it definitely wasn't happy about it.
Sixty seconds