There had been some early concerns about the weather, but things calmed down enough that the fleet was able to hit the bay without fear of being able to spot Kodiak from the crest of the waves. The wind chill factor also warmed enough that no one would freeze to the bulkheads but, just in case things went sideways, everyone was dressed like they'd be hunting bowhead whales off of ice floes. Our crew had the bonus shelter of a warm roomy cabin plus a big batch of emergency doughnuts if we could keep the skipper out of them.

Capt. John cruised to an area off Seldovia and joined some other vessels soaking bait. The tide was righteous enough that it didn't require weights the size of car batteries to hold the bait on the bottom. That was a good thing because we were anchored in water that was 210 feet deep but felt like 500 on the way up, especially if you had a highly annoyed halibut on the other end of your rig.

I prefer fishing at between 50 and 75 feet. Maybe that's why I never had a bite in the first three hours, or it could have been the mutant artificial lure Capt. John stuck on the end of my line while snickering to himself. The thing looked like something a sea lion sneezed, only it had an eye. I swear it moved on its own. The only bite I got was when the lure attacked the piece of herring tail attached to it. I would have had better luck with stale Cheetos and a melted clump of Gummie Bears tied on a circle hook. Still I guess I should have let it down to bottom like everyone else.

At first, the fishing action was slow enough that we could actually watch spring arrive. I began to lament the fact that I had forgotten to bring my stash of fermented squid lips so that we could have dumped them in a bag and attached it to the anchor rope to set up a scent trail. Then I remembered the last time I made that offer, they left me at the dock. This gang was too laid back for that. Between them and the captain I heard some of the funniest wise-ass remarks since last time I stood around looking like a clueless dork with a pole.

Finally Wayne and Lois started to get some mild action but Henry nailed the first money fish. I'm not saying it was diminutive but the tag sank it back to the bottom. I'll bet the mini "chicken" is still waiting to grow big enough that it can stop swimming in circles.

Capt. John decided to move. It was a good decision. We got into the fish and Wayne went wicked with a jigging rig. He put a serious smack-down on the flats and ended up with the biggest set of fillets for the day. Lois along with Henry started getting some good whacks and Janet also developed a hot stick if you consider catching a whole bio mass of Irish Lords by yourself a fine day on the water. I continued to duke it out with my lure.

The posse ended up tagging the fish allocated plus their limits. Capt. John was ecstatic that he was able to get the rust shaken off his old hooks and that Janet hadn't implanted her pole in one of his more sensitive orifices when he kept singing Mattress Ranch commercials.

Overall, it was a great trip and tote full of fun. Be sure and check out the derby's Web site at www.homerhalibutderby.com/ and give Capt. John a look at www.herefishyfishycharters.com. One last note: I sort of promised Capt. John that I wouldn't mention his hat, so I sort of won't. But if you want to see a picture of it, I have one. The man needs help.

Nick can be reached at ncvarney@gmail.com if he isn't out trying to hunt down the skipper's hat. He wants to shoot it before it spawns.