Chasing the wild past

What he's looking for specifically is the warm milky glow of bioluminescent plankton, microscopic sea creatures that, when alarmed, give off light. And there's little that scares them more than schools of sardines, which occupy the rung just above them on the food chain. For centuries, fishermen have looked for this same light to find fish.

"Over there," Lauro says, pointing aft. "Do you see it?" It takes a minute for the eyes to adjust, but there it is, like underwater heat lightning.

Lauro is one of the last of the San Pedro sardine fishermen, and while all fishermen have to deal with the vicissitudes of the sea and of public taste, sardine fishermen have an additional burden -- the fish itself. Periodically, sardines simply vanish -- sometimes for decades at a time.

Today the fish that were once feared to be gone forever are back in very healthy numbers, especially in the fall and winter months when the Southern California season peaks. Furthermore, they're even bordering on the trendy -- something the old-timers have a hard time adjusting to. Now, it's the fishermen who are nearly extinct.

The crew of the Endurance isn't going without a fight. On this warm October night, clad in brightly colored slickers, they take their places along the back of the boat and ready the net. One clambers into the 17-foot skiff that rides piggyback atop the stern of the larger boat.

Setting the net is the key to sardine fishing. It's not a matter of "drop it and they will come." The wily fish never will. And neither can a fishing boat towing a net speed through the ocean, scooping up everything in its way. These fish are fast, able to outrun any boat. They have to be hunted and trapped.

The mark of a good skipper is how well he can do this. It's not unusual for a boat to spend an hour or more on top of a school of fish, the captain waiting until he's absolutely certain he knows where the fish are and which direction they're heading before he commits to releasing the net.