Rockfish trip a San Francisco treat

CATCHING SAN FRANCISCO TREATS

ENJOYING A ROCKFISH FRENZY ON A FALL SUNDAY

By Chris Cocoles

SAN FRANCISCO–I’ve had a lovehate relationship with this metropolis. I love that my parents grew up there; love that I was born there; love San Francisco’s free spirit and its diversity and its tolerance for inclusion; love some of the great food its restaurants offer.

But I hate trying to navigate some of its narrow streets; hate how hard it can be to park there and how the traffic wears you down; hate its NFL and MLB teams (I root for rival franchises!); hate the crowds in the most touristy spots in town whenever I end up there.

So on balance I had a good feeling coming to San Francisco on an early fall Sunday morning. We arrived shortly before 6 a.m. into what we locals call the “City.” Traffic was a breeze, parking a snap at the nearby garage (despite the hefty price tag). And Fisherman’s Wharf – one of those usual tourist traps – was quiet, peaceful and darn near empty, a sight I’ve rarely experienced.

After having pondered a fishing trip with some family members, we managed to secure a spot on a Fisherman’s Wharf-based boat operated

An early fall charter trip up the Bay Area coast from San Francisco made for a productive rockfish haul for five anglers. (CHRIS COCOLES)

San Francisco landmarks like Coit Tower, Ghirardelli Chocolate and the iconic Golden Gate Bridge made for fun scenery on the trip to Bolinas off the Marin County

Coast. (CHRIS COCOLES)

by Capt. Don Franklin of Soleman Sportfishing (510-703-4148; solemanfishing.com). Franklin and I had collaborated on a San Francisco shark fishing story in 2014, and I knew he was one of the most respected charter boat skippers in the fleet. I figured we were in good hands.

MY BROTHER-IN-LAW ALAN KING and his

son-in-law David Laver joined us on our shared half-day charter. Shortly after we arrived and made our way down a ladder onto Franklin’s 32-foot Uniflite boat, the other two members of our party, local San Francisco residents Marcus and Emilia, came aboard. After a quick briefing by Franklin – we would head out of the bay to seek rockfish after he pondered targeting halibut – we stopped at the marina bait station to load up on sardines and off we went. Looking back as the sky turned from dark to daylight, I could see a lit-up Coit Tower and the downtown skyline. In the other direction we spied Alcatraz Island and then sped out towards the Golden Gate Bridge.

I actually don’t recall ever traveling by boat under the iconic span of the Golden Gate. So while the chilled air kept much of our group crowded into the cabin with Franklin and his deckhand for the day, Ty Harris, I opted to brave the elements as we cleared the bottom of the bridge and hit the Pacific Ocean.

The trip took about an hour and Franklin’s speakers belted out his Beatles playlist. So as we checked out the scenery, we were serenaded by “Strawberry Fields,” “Penny Lane,” “Hey Jude” and other Fab Four hits. Franklin pointed out a couple landmarks, in particular explaining the lighthouse (and replica Golden Gate Bridge) at Point Bonitas, which has guided ships in and out of San Francisco Bay since 1855.

I struck up a conversation with deckhand Harris, who was filling in with Franklin for the first time but spends a lot of time working with fellow San Francisco-based charter service Flash Sportfishing. Harris, a diehard bass angler and tournament participant, lives in Escalon in the San Joaquin Valley and often when he has multiple shifts will sleep on another iconic San Francisco boat, the Lovely Martha, which Franklin also worked on years ago when he was trying to break into the business.

The clouds never broke away into the sun until we arrived back at Fisherman’s Wharf, but by the time we stopped just off the beach town of Bolinas in Marin County, the water was relatively calm – for most of us onboard – and the weather pleasant. It was time to try our luck.

TWO MOMENTS EARLY ON in our morning

convinced me that our captain knew these waters well, and furthermore, that he was respected among his fellow fishermen, having run his boat for just over 20 years now.

As we were slowing down in anticipation of getting lines in the water, Franklin was chatting up another boat in the area and providing his location, a point of interest he called “Soleman’s Rock.”

“I can’t believe this guy has a spot named after him. Wow,” I told myself. Later in the morning during some down time I asked Franklin about the origins of Soleman Rock. Simple. One of his fellow captains named it after him. Nothing more. Nothing less.

At one point, one of those other boats drifted by and exchanged pleasantries and updates. As they headed up the coast someone shouted, “We love you, Soleman!”

“For me, it was a thing where I used to go out on charter boats with my dad. And eventually it came full circle in that not only were the guys I knew and went out on their boats, I became a peer and a coworker of theirs once I got my own boat,” Franklin would tell me a few days later in a phone interview. “So it was like all the guys I grew up idolizing, now I’m working with them.”

The rest of us in the boat felt that love too with all the action the rockfish provided us. At times it was a dizzying, chaotic and wonderful hot mess of strikes as we reeled up a colorful cavalcade of black, vermillion and canary rockfish.

This was the simplistic yet action-filled fishing of my dreams. We all took our places at various sections of the vessel – I manned the stern – and as Capt. Don and deckhand Ty instructed, dropped our weighted-down jigs and baitfish to the bottom while fishing in water anywhere from 70 to 100 feet deep.

When our line hit the ocean floor, we’d reel up a few cranks and then jig the rod up and down. Most of the time it was mere seconds before our rod tips would bend. There was no need to set the hook, just reel quickly and anticipate what was on the other end. As it turned out, the port side of the boat, where my family members Alan and David were fishing, was on fire.

I’d look back seemingly every few seconds after regularly hearing “Fish on,” with Franklin or Harris scrambling to help pull in either perfect eating-sized rocks, smaller ones not worth keeping or tiny specimens that made for perfect lingcod bait. On the starboard end Marcus and Emilia were also scoring some nice catches, while I had a steady number of bites and more than a few keepers. My highlight was hitting a double of

We followed this suggestion and had nonstop bites from a colorful variety of rockfish. (CHRIS COCOLES)

Alan King, the editor’s brother-in-law, was on the hot side of the boat and had bites constantly. (CHRIS COCOLES)

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David Laver with one of two keeper lings the boat managed

to score. (CHRIS COCOLES)

Deckhand Ty Harris shows off the editor’s double on vermillion rockfish. Capt. Don Franklin put all of his clients on plenty of keeper fish to take home. (CHRIS COCOLES)

feisty vermillions that would eventually be a great meal I had with some friends later in the week.

About the lings: We kept hoping for one of those behemoths to swallow our smaller rockfish on the way up. More than a few times our crew was convinced a bigger lingcod was hooked up, only to slip away.

In all, our boat managed to bring up three lingcod, including one by David that was just big enough to surpass the 22-inch minimum length. Marcus also landed a ling, but after a quick photo he had to release his after it came short when we measured it.

About the only downer of the morning was that Emilia got a little queasy. But after resting in the cabin for a while, she was our charter’s MVP when she came back out and scored not only some nice rockfish for her and Marcus to take home, but the second keeper lingcod of the morning.

Even at our worst our group managed to have the best time.

ON THE JOURNEY BACK to the dock, Ty fileted our limits (David grilled up some of our haul that night back at Alan’s house in San Mateo with the rest of the family). The sun broke out as we approached the Golden Gate Bridge again, play-by-play updates from NFL games broadcasting on Franklin’s speakers. Back at the dock, we grabbed our cooler and baggies stuffed with filets, settled up the bill and then headed up the ladder.

Midday at Fisherman’s Wharf was quite a contrast and a reminder of my love-hate relationship with San Francisco. The quiet and peace I’d encountered early that morning was now a circus of tourists clogging the streets.

But as tired as my arms and legs were and in a rush to get back home to catch the end of the Sunday afternoon football games, I was happy to be a part of this mayhem. CS

Editor’s note: Next month, we’ll have a story on Soleman Sportfishing skipper Don Franklin’s work with local kids in the San Francisco Bay Area.

San Franciscans Marcus Greer and Emilia Tongson joined our charter and each caught a lingcod. Tongson was able to take

hers home. (CHRIS COCOLES)