2000fish's Blog – Steve Wozniak's hunt for fish species

DATELINE: JUNE 16, 2022 – PACIFICA, CALIFORNIA

Surfperch are a marvelous but undermarketed group of west-coast fish. They range in size from tiny to pushing four pounds, and they have a wide following – surf specialists, fly anglers, pier fishermen, and of course, kids. (Small surfperch are often that magical “first catch.”)

There are 19 surfperch species in North America. Largely found in protected bays and surgy nearshore areas from Alaska to Mexico, the family is known for giving birth to live young. (No, Cousin Chuck, this does not make them mammals. They do not have fur or antlers.)

My journey with them started in the 1970s, when one of my father’s friends, Keiji, took us surf fishing off Point Reyes, and, with help from Keiji’s dad, I reeled in what I believe was a barred perch. Alas, there were no photos from that day, which is fine, because I was a goofy-looking kid.

(Sidebar: The story has been told previously, but it bears repeating. Keiji was Japanese, and since I was fascinated by war history, Keiji and my dad spent months trying to convince me that Keiji’s father was a kamikaze pilot who sank a US aircraft carrier but somehow survived his mission. I was young and still trusted adults, so I bought the whole thing. I met the old man several times, and I was dying to ask him about it, but they kept the lid on the story by telling me he didn’t speak any English. It finally all unraveled one day when my father and Keiji both fell asleep on the beach, and I took my chance to approach the old man. He spoke perfect English and gave me a piece of ancient wisdom I treasure to this very day – “Don’t let those two clowns screw with you.”)

In 1984, an unphotographed rubberlip surfperch was my very first catch in San Francisco Bay. My sister was the only witness, and alas, asking her to remember what a fish looked like would be akin to asking me to change a diaper. 

My sister, Laura.

It was a simpler, less obsessive time in my fishing career – it would be about 15 years until I developed the species-hunting mania, and a full 28 until I caught another rubberlip. (At least I did it in a big way – my first one was also a world record.) In the meantime, I started catching a few more of the group. Early in this process, I looked in an ID book, counted up the species, and decided that I wanted to catch them all. “Collecting them all” is one of my primordial urges that predates the fishing obsession. I still remember trying to get all the Solido WWII tanks as a child and never being able to find an M-10, which bothers me to this very day. (Marta blames this on American consumerism, but I’ll rest on my OCD for this whole theme.)

As I looked up all the photos for this post, it struck me how many great friends had been along for these trips. Long-time fishing brothers like Spellman and Martini had been there for a lot of them, and great friends that came along later in the hunt, like Ben Cantrell and Chris Moore, were a big part of this quest. The perch are a good cross-section of my California fishing, and the whole project reminded me that the friends I have made on this journey are the most important part of the whole thing. Except for the nearly-sacred pink surfperch, which outranks at least Spellman.

My first photographed surfperch catch was in June of 2004. It was a pile perch, a larger species that would later account for five of my 16 world records on the overall group. It was an incidental pickup while I was shark fishing in Tomales Bay with good friend Chris Armstrong, the same guy who hosted me the day I caught the record white croaker.

That’s Chris on the left. He’s on the water several times a week and knows more about salmon than most charter captains.

This is the pile perch I caught on his boat. Three things struck me about this picture. First, I can’t believe that hat is 20 years old. Second, the background is Hog Island, a beloved landmark in one of my favorite fishing spots on earth, Tomales Bay. And finally, that fish would have easily been a world record at the time. How innocent I was.

After I had set a record or two on this species, Mark Spellman stepped in for a moment of glory in May of 2011 and nailed a pound-and-a-half fish that gave him his first of his four IGFA world records.

In the background, you can see young Connor Spellman racing to get a closer look at the fish. He’s now a college sophomore.

Being the jerk that I am, I eventually reclaimed the record, and it currently sits at 2.5#. Mark helped me land that fish – he’s a world-class angling teammate.

This one remains the world record as of press time.                       

The next catch was an easy, indeed, unavoidable one – the shiner, on July 11, 2004. These small beasts can be found swarming around pilings and bottom structure anywhere from San Diego to Alaska.

Speaking of small beasts, this fish was caught exactly two days before my first date with Marta.

When I get worked up about fish that small, I always think of this cartoon.

The striped perch was the next one, oddly enough on a rock cod jig, off Half Moon Bay on October 7, 2004.

Although I live and die by the Tigers, we were all Red Sox fans that fall. This fish also would have been a world record at the time – but I would not get my first record for almost another year.

I did eventually get a record on this species, while fishing with my niece and nephew on March 22, 2016.

I closed out 2004 with my fourth documented surfperch – the walleye – on December 19 off Muni Pier in front of Ghirardelli Square in San Francisco. This is a place laden with childhood memories – it still has one of the best ice cream sundaes in the world, and I consider myself an expert in ice cream. 

The 80s called. They want their sunglasses back.

2005 also was a good year. On April 9, also in front of Ghirardelli, I got the “piano key special” – a white and black surfperch on the same day. April 9 is an especially inauspicious date in my family history – my Grandfather Wozniak was killed in WWII on April 9, 1945, and I got married to my eventual ex on April 9, 1994.

My first white surfperch. The little girl is Emily Perry, my buddy Scott’s daughter – who has already graduated college with honors. This makes me feel old. What ever happened to that kid who could watch “Perry the Platypus” for hours on end?

My first black surfperch, caught minutes afterward.

Later in life, I would hold the record on the black for several years, until Daniel Gross tastelessly shattered it right in front of me.

My last record black perch, beautifully photographed by Spellman.

Daniel’s record. Dude, this looks like a mugshot.

I closed out 2005 with my seventh surfperch species, the barred – the one I likely caught in the 70s. This was off Stinson Beach on December 10, which is the day after I left Macromedia, my favorite job so far.

A much younger Steve and his first fish caught right in the surf.

I got some nicer barred perch as the years passed – this one down toward Monterey.

September 10, 2006 was my only surfperch addition that year, but it was a rare and miraculous one – the pink. Whereas most of the family either lives in the surf or in bay structure, this species is distributed randomly in featureless, relatively deep coastal water. On a charter out of Santa Barbara, while we were drifting for halibut, I passed the time dropping a sabiki, and lo and behold, I pulled up a small, beautiful miracle.

It was years before I realized how special this creature was – even though I had to target a number of other species very specifically, this is the one that almost nobody has caught.

It would be four more years before I added another one. On March 6, 2010, I landed a rainbow surfperch off Fort Point in San Francisco – the same place I had gotten that unphotographed rubberlip.

This is one of the more beautiful members of the family. This would also be the last surfperch I caught before I began the 1000Fish blog.

On December 11, 2010, my very first day on Elephant Rock, a spot that would lead to so many species and records, I landed my tenth – the aptly-named dwarf surfperch.

They’re small, and they seem to hang out in a few very specific areas.

A few weeks later, on January 22, 2011, I finally landed my first documented rubberlip.

The very first one. I still pull out this picture late at night and giggle.

This was the first of seven world records I would set on this species, ranging from one pound even to the current 2.75# record. 

This record is my proudest surfperch accomplishment. 2.75#, on a light rod and a small plastic lure.

Sunset at Tiburon, which means it’s time for Waypoint Pizza. 

2013 saw three more additions – the reef surfperch on March 30 with Martini and Spellman, a Tule perch on June 8 with Spellman, and a world record redtail on August 3, with Martini.

The reef surfperch, on the legal side of Lover’s Point.

The Tule is a sneaky one, as it’s the only member of the family that lives in fresh water. We got this one in the Russian River.

This redtail took me to 13. It was a long drive, but well worth it.

Seven long years and one pandemic would pass before I tacked on a few more. On June 12, 2020, I went all the way to Brookings, Oregon to catch a calico. (Thank you again, Luke Ovgard.)

I went full unabomber beard during Covid.

Of course, as soon as I finished the 14-hour round trip pilgrimage for the calico, I began catching them regularly within an hour of my house. Go figure. 

On October 19, 2020, while fishing in San Diego with Ben Cantrell and ace guide Captain James Nelson, I tacked on number 15, the sharpnose surfperch. 

That’s an astonished Ben in the background.

By the time I caught this species, I was keenly aware that I had a good shot at getting all of them. The three remaining – the silver, the kelp, and the spotfin – had all been caught in Northern California, and it was really a question of gathering local intelligence and putting in the time and effort. I would like to again thank local species genius Vince (@prickly_sculpin) whose advice was instrumental in getting all three of them.

The silver was first, at Scott’s Beach on April 17, 2021. I was accompanied by an old 1000fish fan favorite, Jibril Rouag. His mother is one of my best friends, and she appreciates any time I can get the boy out of her house.

My favorite photo of Jibril.

My other favorite photo of Jibril. That’s Daniel Gross on the right, a long-time buddy and charter captain.

Nori the tuna dog even made one of the perch trips, although she decided to nap and had to be carried back.

The kelp perch was much more difficult, and it took several miserable failures before I finally got one on October 30, 2021, up in Bodega Bay.

This was a stunning, last-minute-of-the-day development, and I was thrilled. I have to thank Tania Mantua for showing me this place in the early 1980s and Vince (@prickly_sculpin) for telling me the kelp perch were here.

This left me with the spotfin, which I was assured was not hard to catch and lived near me. And yet somehow I had been fishing the California coast steadily for 30 years without so much as seeing one. Spring of 2022 was a busy time, as we slowly came out of the shadow of Covid and started going places without masks. Apart from a lengthy trip to the Southeast, covered in ‘Fishing With Sigmund” and “She Blinded Me With Science“, I also managed to get to Las Vegas for a Doobie Brothers concert with my buddy Scott.

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

I also got the privilege of fishing with fishing with another 1000 species angler – the third person and first Canadian to ever accomplish the feat – George Brinkman.

Steve and George at Tiburon. George is the third member of the 1000 Fish club I have fished with. (There are now seven total.)  Although he looks younger than me, George is pushing 80 and still relentlessly out there, hunting down the next species – and he shows no signs of slowing down. I admire the man. 

And so, all of this pointless history leads us up to June 16, 2022. I was fishing with the Moore family, who were visiting California to tack on a few species to their impressive life lists.

The Moore Family, minus Carson, who is off on a religious mission. This gives The Mucus an unfair advantage – for now. I am hoping his mission is in the Central Sahara.

Say what you will, but the kid is a snappy dresser.

The day before, we had made a long and slippery walk out on the Half Moon Bay jetty trying for a few species, and although I avoided any broken bones, there were no fish to be found.

These are still gorgeous tidepools.

On the 16th, we headed up to Pacifica Pier, a spot I had not fished since a series of fruitless salmon attempts in 1985. My memories of the place were not fond, but we actually found parking and walked about halfway out onto the pier. It was a swelly but fishable day, and I began rigging a sabiki, preparing myself for disappointment. Chris, who is generally set up before I am, caught three spotfin before I could get a bait in the water. The Mucus caught one. I quietly said bad words to myself, as this was an obvious attempt to upset me. I cast the rig. I had a series of small taps, and when I was sure I had something on the line, I reeled up.

I had a redtail – a species I had driven 800 miles to catch in 2013 – and a creature neither Chris nor The Mucus have gotten. The Fish Gods have quite a sense of humor. 

I cast again and got immediate bites. I reeled up. I did not have a spotfin surfperch. I had four of them. While we will never know which exact one was species 2078 and the last of the surfperch to be added to my list, I had done it. I had caught the last of the surfperch – my collection was complete.

They all got released safely.

The obligatory tank shot.

If nothing else, this blog made me realize that Chris has perfect teeth.

It had taken the better part of 18 years, but I now had a check mark next to every drawing in the surf perch section of my Eastern Pacific go-to fish ID book – A Field Guide to Coastal Fishes From Alaska to California, by Kells, Rocha, and Allen. (And one check mark next to the Tule perch in Peterson’s Guide.) A big thank you to everyone who was along for this project – it was a long time in the making. (And because you asked, there are four more surfperch species, all found in Japan, and I have two of those, Yes, I will finish that someday as well.)

With the “surfperch royal slam” completed, I could turn my attention to catching all the rockfish off the California coast – certainly a much more difficult task. But in the meantime, I would be busy packing for a much more exotic adventure – The Amazon.

Steve