SEA HUNT : These Fly Fishermen Are Casting a New Light on Catching Sharks

By RICH ROBERTS

Feb. 1, 1989 12 AM PT

Times Staff Writer

OXNARD — Late last week when a great white shark apparently killed a woman kayaker and her male companion near here, a few fly fishermen were out around the Channel Islands looking for sharks but finding few.

“Man, I’ve never seen it this slow,” said one, Steve Abel.

Unfortunately, and unknown to the fishermen at the time, a shark apparently attacked UCLA graduate students Tamara McCallister, 24, and Roy Jeffrey Stoddard, 24, whose kayaks were found off Zuma Beach--one showing apparent shark bites.

McCallister’s body was found 6 miles off the entrance to Channel Islands Harbor Saturday. Stoddard had not been found as of Tuesday.

Shortly after sunrise, the group moves out of Channel Islands Harbor on O B Three, a 42-foot power cruiser. Senior owner Arch O’Bryant and son Steve are at the controls. The sky is clear, the sea is calm.

“We’re really lucky today,” Abel says.

He anticipates ideal shark-fishing conditions, except for one troublesome reservation. The digital readout on the boat’s instruments registers a water temperature of only 50.1 degrees, 4 or 5 degrees colder than normal for the area, a condition attributed to the “La Nina” phenomenon bringing cold currents from the north down the California coast.

“That’s why the fishing hasn’t been any good generally,” Abel says. “There hasn’t been any live bait.”

Since mako (also known as bonito) sharks prefer warmer water, Abel doesn’t expect to find any but thinks the less aggressive blue sharks will be in abundance, as usual.

He and his fishing companions, Ben Mintz and Jim Baker, tell tales of 40 to 50 dorsal fins circling the boat at one time, with double and triple simultaneous hookups.

“There’s nothing like having 50 sharks around a boat to keep your blood boiling,” Abel says. “If you fell in, you wouldn’t even get wet. You’d be back on the boat before you hit the water.”

Sharks will bite at almost anything, sometimes because they mistake it for natural food--an elephant seal, perhaps, like those that populate the Channel Islands. Experts think that may be what happened to McCallister and Stoddard, whose kayaks, to a shark peering up through the murk from below, could resemble seals.

Doyle Hanan, a marine biologist with the California Department of Fish and Game in San Diego, said that studies indicate that sharks are “silhouette feeders” that use other senses to zero in on prey and will often bite a victim, then back off and let the victim bleed to death rather than risk a fight, then come back and feed.

Dennis Bedford, a shark expert with the DFG in Long Beach, said: “People tend to attribute more intelligence to a shark than it deserves. It’s just a big, dumb fish. No smarter (than other fish), just bigger.”

Abel and his friends have made a game of fooling these big, dumb fish by using light fly tackle and artificial flies. Saltwater fly fishing isn’t new, but fly fishing for sharks is unusual.

“After trying it without much success, we developed a system of chumming, what type of fly to use and how to tie the fly,” Abel said. “Once we got the fly pattern and the chum method down, we’ve had great success every trip. Then I developed my own fly reel about a year and a half ago.”

Abel, 40, is president of Abel Automatics a machine company he runs with his brothers Lynn, Stan and Joey in Camarillo. Since its inception 12 years ago, the company has specialized in producing small, delicate parts for aircraft and medical equipment.

When he found more action was demanded of a saltwater fly reel, Abel made one for himself, using the tools available in his shop. Then he made some for friends and, before he knew it, was producing the full line of Abel fly reels that in only a year have become the standard for quality in the country and now amount to 25% of the business. The company soon will have available a big-game reel costing $1,200.

Catching a shark on a fly rod “is definitely more of a challenge,” Abel said, “the essence of light-tackle fishing.

“If you follow the rules, you’re allowed to use only 16-pound test, maximum. They allow you a shock tippet of less than 12 inches. I could use anchor chain if I wanted, but that wouldn’t work for casting. I use a little trace of single-strand monel wire, about 9 or 10 inches long. We connect that to the tippet, (which is) the weakest link.”

The boat arrives at its destination about 24 miles offshore, some 10 miles south of Anacapa Island where the underwater shelf drops off from 150 to 700 fathoms.

This is where Abel caught the fly-tackle world-record blue shark of 140 pounds last July 1.

“My goal is to catch a great white,” he said.

He suspects the whites use the gap between Santa Rosa and Santa Cruz Islands in the Channels as a breeding area. Hanan said the colder water and an abundance of food--seals--may also have brought whites into the area.

The record is up for grabs. Nobody has ever caught a great white on a fly rod.

The motors stop, and as the boat drifts, Abel and Baker put out chum buckets containing 6-inch frozen cubes of ground mackerel heads.

“Hors d’oeuvres are served,” Abel said.

Then everybody sits back to relax and tell tales while the chum slick drifts out to attract the sharks.

“We’ve got 1 hour,” Abel said. “When the sharks get close, we throw out frozen anchovies--then I give ‘em my Abel Anchovy fly. It’s worked every time.”

The fly is Abel’s version of a popular saltwater fly, with tinsel and realistic eyes added. It’s not on the market.

Like most fly fishermen, Abel releases his catches, “unless it’s a world record or it’s a mako and you want to eat it. (They are) very good eating.

“But if you’re landing a big fish and you want to keep him, that’s when it really gets dangerous. You have to subdue him when he gets to the boat, then wrestle him on board, and he’s snapping and biting at you.

“If he’s a record fish, you don’t want to break the leader, because once the leader breaks--even though he’s on board--it disallows the record. So you have to dispatch him, try to bring him on board and get the hook out of his mouth before he breaks it.”

A club longer than a baseball bat is within reach. A gun would work better, a guest suggests, but Baker points out that would cost a potential record fish too much blood.

“Blood is 8 pounds a gallon,” Baker said. “You lose a gallon of blood, you’ve lost a lot of weight.”

Abel says he once hooked a mako he estimated to be from 150 to 200 pounds--the world record being a 65-pound brute caught off New Zealand 4 years ago. The fish tested his reel.

“He ran off 200 yards of line in about 10 seconds,” Abel says. “Then he turned and charged the boat.”

They were aboard Baker’s yellow 24-footer that day.

“The boat shuddered when he hit,” says Mintz, who lives in Encino.

Makos may be underrated as game fish. Everybody knows they are mean--”the next baddest dudes out there, next to great whites,” Abel said.

“And when a mako looks at you,” Baker said, “all you see is teeth.”

The hour is up, seabirds are flocking the length of the chum slick 400 yards beyond the boat, but there is no sign of sharks.

Then, 13 minutes late, a sleek, dark gray form slashes behind the boat, grabs Mintz’s Abel Anchovy, and the game is on.

“That’s a nice size shark,” Baker says, excitedly. “About 100 pounds. Probably a blue.”

Then, suddenly, the fish shoots straight up out of the water 50 yards from the boat, higher than its length, which appears to be 7 or 8 feet.

“That’s a mako!” Abel affirms. “A world record.”

He figures the fish will weigh 100 pounds--if Mintz can boat it.

“I didn’t think they’d be here in this cold water,” Abel says. “But that’s the thing about sharks. They’re unpredictable.”

The mako jumps again--twice, three times--then runs off a length of line before the O’Bryants get the boat moving to follow him.

Mintz, standing all the time, his rod bent at 90 degrees, battles for 43 minutes, intermittently flexing the cramps and fatigue out of his arms. Then the mako returns, runs under the boat and emerges 50 yards in front with another magnificent leap.

The line goes slack. Mintz reels in the fly.

“He threw the hook,” he says.

The rest of the day produces only a blue, which snaps the leader after a couple of minutes.