Adult sablefish caught by fishermen in the “Dory Fleet” that sits next to the Newport Pier

Species: Anoplopoma fimbria (Pallas, 1814); from the Greek words anoplis  (unarmed) and poma (operculum or gill cover), and the Latin word fimbria  (fringe).

Alternate Names: Commercially called blackcod in Washington and butterfish in California. Other names include Alaska blackcod, coalfish, coal cod, candlefish, black candlefish, bluecod, deep sea trout, zipperfish, sable, skil-fish, skil, and skill. Called t’thémekwe by the Salish in British Columbia, sqel or skil by the Haida, and hádání  by the Heiltsuk. Called bacalao negro in Mexico.

Identification: Elongate (cod-shaped) tapering to the tail. Two widley-spaced  dorsal fins. Adult coloring is usually blackish-gray on the back and sides, gray to white below; young fish taken from piers are generally pale greenish-colored on top and sides fading to white.

Typical juvenile sablefish seen on piers —  Monterey Wharf #2 on July 20, 2013

Size: To over 40 inches and 56 pounds although most caught from piers are young fish under a foot in length. Sablefish can live to about 55 years of age so the bigger fish are generally old fish.

Range: Islas San Benito and Isla Cedros, central Baja, California to the Aleutian Islands and the Bering Sea south of St. Lawrence Island, Alaska. Also, Kamchatka, Russia, south to Hatsu Shima Island, southern Japan; usually in extremely deep water.

Habitat:  Adult fish are caught in deep water, often over a thousand feet deep, and prefer areas of blue clay or mud. Young fish, to a foot long or so, are often found in fairly shallow areas, especially to the north. There is also a difference in habitat north and south; in southern California, sablefish are almost always found in deep-water areas, in northern California, Eureka north, sablefish will sometimes be found in shallower water.

Piers: Sablefish are never really common to California piers although piers adjacent to deep-water canyons may see a few each year. At times, vast schools will move in around piers and thousands of the fish will be caught. Best bets: Newport Pier, Balboa Pier, Redondo Beach Pier, and Monterey Wharf No. 2. In the far north, where sablefish become a more shallow-water fish, they will sometimes show up during the summer months in Humboldt Bay and a few will fall to anglers fishing from Eureka area piers.  I have seen small specimens taken from the Pismo Beach Pier, the Capitola Wharf, and Monterey Wharf #2, all in Central California.

Sablefish taken from the San Simeon Pier on August 17, 2015

Shoreline: Rarely taken by shore anglers.

Boats: Rarely taken by boaters in southern California although they’re sometimes taken by rockcod anglers fishing in deep waters off Santa Cruz and Monterey.

Bait and Tackle: On piers a high/low rigging baited with strips of squid is the preferred method. On boats they are generally taken on typical rockcod tackle.

Food Value:  Adult sablefish are one of the best tasting smoked fish. In fact, many people like the rich buttery flavor of sablefish better than salmon. For a period of time when I worked in the corporate world one of the areas I visited was Seattle and I soon found a fish restaurant on the waterfront, Ivar’s Acres of Clams, that served smoked sablefish. That one dish prompted several additional visits. Since then I do not believe I have ever seen sablefish on a restaurant menu although I have seen smoked sablefish for sale in Santa Cruz, Morro Bay and Fort Bragg. In addition, fresh sablefish is one of the staple items at the dory fleet at the foot of Newport Pier (although you need to get there early in the morning before the fish is sold out). Unfortunately the young sablefish that occasionally visit piers are not quite as rich flavored. Nevertheless they are still best smoked or broiled, methods which gives the flavor a chance to show itself. Do not, repeat, do not, pan-fry or deep-fry sablefish. The results will be an inferior piece of over oily meat.

Sablefish caught by “PolishfromtheDeep at the Pismo Beach Pier on August 8, 2010

Comments: One of my favorite fish simply because it is an uncommon treat!

My first big day pier fishing took place at the Newport Pier in September 10, 1962 and involved sablefish. I had arrived, as usual, at the crack of dawn, and was fishing just down from the northwest corner. I was using squid for bait and had experienced very little early success. However, around 5:30 A.M., I had a strike and pulled in an ebony-colored fish—a type I had never caught before. The next cast yielded two more of these strange colored fish and I continued to catch fish, nearly every cast, for the next two hours. Strangely, only two other anglers were having similar success. Most anglers were going fishless at Newport. Later, I found out the fish were sablefish, a deep-water fish more common to northern waters. Upon cleaning the fish, I also found the reason for my success. The fish were stuffed with squid that were schooling in the waters near to the pier. Anglers who were using squid for bait, and there were only a few, were catching the fish. I caught 47 sablefish that day, but it was only a start. I continued to catch fish: large jacksmelt, Pacific mackerel and jack mackerel—77 fish in all. And, quite appropriately, I also caught a small squid. It was, mirabile dictu, one of the best days I ever had at the pier even though the fishing probably would have been considered poor for most of my fellow anglers that day. Six weeks later, October  27, saw the catch of six additional sablefish although this time it was in the evening.  It was the only times I have ever caught sablefish at a pier.

As said, they are a deep water fish and generally only encountered if you are fishing really deep waters. During the ’70s, I frequently fished on the Stagnaro rock cod boats (Stagnaro #1 and Stagnaro #2) out of the Santa Cruz Wharf and we would fish some really deep water reefs. Occasionally, when the boats would drift over a muddy area, we would pull in some big sablefish and some big Pacific hake. No one wanted the hake but everyone wanted the sablefish. Generally though they are primarily taken by commercial fishermen fishing in REALLY DEEP water. Another place I caught them, although this time from a barge, was in Redondo Beach. A trip on the barge California in July 1978 saw me catch five sablefish (if you catch one you’ll usually catch more) during a full night of fishing that produced 77 fish of six different species.

Sablefish taken from the Capitola Wharf on July 2, 2013

Perhaps the best example of deep-water fish showing up at a California pier was a run of sablefish that took place at Wharf #2 in 1947. The numbers of both fish and anglers seems unbelievable—but the invasion was well documented!

Sablefish Run At Monterey Bay

 For the first time in history, sablefish (Anoplopoma fimbria) appeared in vast numbers in the vicinity of Monterey and were caught by the thousands from the municipal pier. The run was first discovered on the afternoon of July 11th; word of the bonanza spread rapidly, and the pier was soon crowded with anglers. Men, women, and children stood shoulder to shoulder, with a varied assortment of tackle, all hauling in fish as fast as they could throw in their lines. Boxes, sacks, five-gallon cans, and washtubs were rapidly filled with 12 to 20-inch fish. Slack periods occurred during the morning and again in the afternoons, but they were of short duration usually lasting only half an hour or less; then the fish would be back seemingly in greater numbers than before. Each day the pier would be jammed with crowds of from 2,000 to 3,500 fishermen and spectators, some having driven as far as 200 miles.

On July 26th, the run stopped as abruptly as it had begun, and although over 5,000 fishermen were on hand the next day, only a few fish were caught. During the 15 days of the run, the Bureau of Patrol Division of Fish and Game, estimated that over 110 tons had been landed.

 — Keith W. Cox, Bureau of Marine Fisheries, California Division of Fish and Game, September, 1947

One of the best places to see sablefiish is at the Newport Dory fleet that sits next to the Newport Pier.

An interesting article on the increasing popularity of sablefish at upscale restaurants is one by Marian Burros in the New York Times. Titled “The Fish That Swam Uptown,” it calls sablefish “the Cinderella of the seafood world” and “discusses the popularity of sablefish and several ways it is prepared.

http://www.nytimes.com/2001/05/16/dining/the-fish-that-swam-uptown.html

Some sablefish taken on the Stagnaro #2 partyboat out of Stagnaro Sportfishing in Santa Cruz on June 6, 1975

It’s a bay where on a crystal clear day, one kissed by California’s abundant sunshine, a person is presented a beautiful post-card picture for the eye. On a foggy day the horizon can be dim and the scenes impenetrable, but the noises and smells of the sea will invoke a picture in the mind.

San Simeon Point extends out into the sea at the north end of the bay while lush beds of giant kelp and feather boa cover the water at the south edge of the bay. Together they temper the ocean’s forces of disruption—the currents and waves. The bay’s surface is usually mild; the waves that strike the beach are usually tame.

Life in and on the bay’s waters is also generally mild. Some seabirds are always present, some fish are to be found, and onshore tourists and locals go about their duties, the tourists checking out every sight, the locals working to keep the sights available. But the fishing, especially at the pier is also fairly mild. The surf is too light for top-notch perch action, the resident bottom species prefer the kelp beds, and the pelagic forage fish come and go.

But when the pelagics do enter the bay’s waters the chemistry can change—with dramatic results. Such was the case this week as shoals of sardines entered the bay. Did they enter in response to a bloom of plankton, the essential food for the small fish? Were they simply seeking out some calm and shelter from their usual ocean haunts? No one knows but the response of other species was evident.

Thousand of sea birds converged on the area, large and inelegant pelicans, screeching sea gulls, and the smaller but just as hungry cormorants and terns. In the water were giant rafts of dolphin-imitatin’ sea lions together with their less numerous pinniped cousins—the harbor seals.

Surprisingly missing were the dolphins themselves and the whales that often visit such buffet gatherings in the sea. It didn’t matter that some species were missing, the ones that were present provided carnage on a scale rarely seen today by most visitors.

I arrived at the pier just before noon; soon had the pier cart set up, and headed out to the pier. A short way out on the south side of the pier stood two gentlemen holding their fishing rods and reels; they looked like locals. “How’s the action, catching anything?” The first angler piped up, “It’s still slow but you should have seen it yesterday, we both caught over fifty sardines.” The second looked north toward the point and nodded, “see the birds over there, that’s where there are at.” In the horizon, several hundred yards away, was a mass of birds hanging over a spot and just barely perceptible was movement in the water; it was like flies hovering over some smelly but tasty trash.

My partners in crime going fishless, I decided to move farther out on the pier. Anglers at the end were also on the south side, the wind was to their back, and they were pulling up empty Sabiki-type bait rigs.

I moved to the mid-pier section. Why fish where others were already proving the futility of their spots? I began the ritual of fishing. Where to cast? Since I wanted my sitting pole to have a taunt line, I needed to cast to the south side; there was a wind and it would keep the line honest. My heavier outfit was baited up and soon after the hooks and bait was sitting on the bottom of the sea. My lighter rod and reel followed suit but was equipped with a Lucky Lura bait rig; if the sardines were around why not see if I could stock the cooler with fresh bait? I would cast this line to the north even though the fish were mainly in the distance. A few stragglers might be in the area.

The first two casts gave good exercise for the arms but no fish. The third cast saw the hooks start to be smacked by the fish and soon the tension increased as fish grabbed what they thought was food. I had to be careful since tendrils of kelp poked their fingers out from the pier. But, I had set up between two hands of the kelp and had a vegetation-free passage of water about twenty feet in width. That passage of water would provide the highway that the sardines would travel to the pier and up to my waiting hands.

Almost every cast was producing a fish and the anglers at the end were starting to look over—but they stayed at their spots. My biggest problem was trying to keep an eye on the pole to my back while working the pole in my hand.

Shortly after arriving at my spot I noticed that the amount of birds near the pier was increasing. Then I saw something I have rarely seen before, giant rafts of sea lions, each raft numbering twenty to thirty sea lions, and all were making a hard swim into the area. Their swim was reminiscent of dolphins as they would dive and emerge, dive and emerge, all at a breakneck pace and all in unison. There were several such rafts with the total numbers exceeding a hundred but the number of birds far dwarfed even that number.

As a student of history it reminded me of the stories of battle, thousands of soldiers marching in orderly fashion into battle against their adversary. Here it was a little less orderly only because the brown pelicans and sea gulls showed individuality in action. The sea lions would attack the shoal of sardines from below, the birds from above. The pelicans would make their cannon ball dive into the water emerging with a mouthful of fish. The sea lions would grab a fish and sometimes toss it into the air only to be enraged when a herring gull would grab it in front of their snout. The terns and cormorants played at the periphery of action but still were well filled.

The water near the pier was now dimpled with fish and the air was filled with raucous sound. Most amazing was the picture in the water when the sardines moved next to the pier. Huge bait balls twenty to thirty feet across would begin to darken the water twisting and turning in unison to avoid the pursuing lions. Some would leap out of the water, most wouldn’t, but all fled instinctively in terror from their pursuer.

As said it was like watching a battle, one filled with death. But the battle was in fast motion; I’ve watched civil war movies that showed the armies in slow motion and soldiers heroically crumpling to the ground. This was more akin to the fast-paced battles seen in Lord of the Ring. As for the number of fish consumed it’s anyone’s guess but it gives glimpse to the number of fish still in the ocean.

There are parts of the world where scenes like this are still common but it seems like you rarely see it today in California. It still happens, but it’s usually more out of sight. I’ve seen similar scenes at Cayucos and at Pacifica, and on a tamer scale at many sites, but I’m not sure if I have ever seen so many sea lions on the hunt in such a fashion.

I talked to a local lady who had come out to see if the sardines were still in the bay. She said she had been out the previous day watching a similar scene and was amazed. She also said that though she had lived in the area nearly thirty years she had never seen such number of fish or predators. I felt privileged that I had decided to visit the pier this day.

As for the fishing, the cooler was soon filled with fresh sardines to be used for bait. Some fish were given to less fortunate/lucky/experienced anglers. A few of the sardines were used to catch nice-sized kingfish on the bottom. My freezer is full and I will not need to buy bait.

Much more important though is the reminder that Mother Nature can be spectacular. Some view such carnage with distain but to me it simply reflects nature; it was simply the food chain on display. The bigger eat the smaller and of course humans are usually at the top of the chain. Many today reject our role in the mix; they feel we do nothing except disrupt nature. I feel that though we have indeed made many mistakes over the years we also have learned from those mistakes and can practice our skills (such as fishing) in ways more respectful of nature. We still are the top of the food chain and should be able to continue our ways; we just need to do it in a manner that helps preserve the nature that we all love.

From a post on pierfishing.com — 7/10/2009