Thrills and Chills of Ocean Diving & Fishing

Memories from Northern California’s Cold-Water Coast

I spent some of the best days of my adult life diving the rugged coast of Northern California—free-diving for abalone, working the reefs with Hawaiian slings, and SCUBA spear-fishing offshore. The icy Pacific, the surge, the danger, the harvest—those years shaped a big part of who I am. This page is my tribute to that era, a collection of stories and photos from the days when abalone diving ruled the North Coast.

From Combat Diver to Cold-Water Diver

My introduction to diving wasn’t recreational at all. Uncle Sam put me underwater long before the Pacific ever did—sending me through military dive school and para-SCUBA school as a young Green Beret in the U.S. Army Special Forces.
Jumping from airplanes with tanks strapped on… learning to navigate currents, structure, and darkness… those were my first underwater lessons.

After Vietnam, when I came home and left active duty, Northern California called to me in a way only the ocean can. I’d already spent long days deep-sea fishing Southern California waters with my dad as a kid—and once the salt gets in your veins, it never leaves. The North Coast felt like a return to something familiar and sacred.

Ft. Bragg, California — Diving Capital of My Life

Back then, the waters off the Mendocino coast—Fort Bragg especially—were legendary. Thick with abs. Loaded with fish. When the season opened, thousands of divers appeared like clockwork. I happened to live right in the heart of it through the 1970s and early 1980s.

I can’t count how many cousins, friends, and dive buddies crashed at my place just to hit the surf with me. My garage looked like a mini-dive depot, complete with custom shelving for gear. People would leave their wetsuits, fins, gauges, ab irons, mesh bags—knowing they’d be back again next month.

Breath-Hold Harvesting in a Different Time

We were a crew of solid breath-hold divers. Twenty feet was normal; thirty if you really wanted to work for the bigger abs. In those days, you didn’t need to go deep—some rocky underwater walls were so covered that the abalone were nearly touching. Whole ledges glittered like mosaics.

We used inner tubes with mesh liner bags floating on the surface for our catch, always checking legal size before a single shell went in. If we wanted more elbow room, we took inflatable boats or, eventually, Boston Whalers out to distant reefs. Offshore, the abs were larger, plentiful, and shallow if you knew where to look.

Spearfishing with Hawaiian Slings

Most of my spear-fishing happened with Hawaiian slings—three-pronged and barbless. They hit hard enough to paralyze the fish, but made it easy to pull the spear out and slide the catch into the mesh bag clipped to our belts.

Many afternoons we’d sit still on an underwater shelf, waiting for the fish to circle back. Blacks, reds, perch, lingcod, sea trout, and cabezon—cold-water species that fought just hard enough to make every shot satisfying.

When the Ocean Reminds You Who’s Boss

I still remember one dive when a massive shark cruised past us. We scattered for shore fast—legs kicking like outboard motors—until I got a better look. It wasn’t a great white, nor a mako. Just one of the big species that patrols the Mendocino Coast but doesn’t eat people.

Still… when you’re suspended in the current, wearing neoprene, holding a bag of fresh fish… watching a large shark glide by within arm’s reach? Your bones turn to ice. The ocean always has the power to humble you.

More Stories Coming…

If you dove those waters, you know the feeling.

The sting of 48-degree surf.
The surge that shoves you sideways on the rocks.
The thrill of seeing abs piled on a wall like treasure.
The satisfaction of cooking a catch still dripping from the Pacific.

This page will grow with more memories, photos, stories, and history from a time and place that shaped so many of us.

Whether you dove Noyo Harbor, Buckhorn Cove, Todd’s Point, Ten Mile, Elk, Albion, Mendocino Headlands—or anywhere along this stretch of wild coastline—you’re in the right place.

If you’ve got a story of your own, drop me a note. We might have crossed paths out there without even knowing it.

Cold water.
Short breaths.
Long memories.

Welcome to the collection.

California’s Abalone Closure

Hookah Cowboy Abalone & Urchin Divers

GIANT Totuava fishing story

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