Smoke on the Water

"Well that wasn't pretty."

SH looks down at his reel and shakes his head. In the darkness he had missed his mark resulting in a massive line tangle. He looks over to FishTrick and grins. As he starts to tug at his line, the quiet is shattered by a flurry of geese erupting from the water. SH looks up and freezes. His gaze locked on a beam of light that is slowly scanning across the lake face.

"FishTrick... do you see that?"

FishTrick's eye follow SH's outstretched hand and widen.

"Oh shit."

"What do you think?"

"I think we should bail."

"Okay, let's roll."

Having only one rod, FishTrick is quickly off and turning around the bend. SH takes a few steps after him and, for a second, even considers leaving the rest of his gear behind. He realizes that his fishing license is in his tackle bah, so if they find that it's as good as finding him. He hastily grabs the bag and rods and run to catch up with his friend. They stat to run towards the entrance. As they turn another bend they stumble across another group of ninja fishers, four deep.

"Are you in some sort of hot pursuit?" one of them jokes.

"There's a ranger," SH states.

"What?!"

"There's a ranger shining his light looking for people."

"Is it the ranger or the police?"

"Looks like the ranger. He's in a ca... GET DOWN!

Across the lake, two headlights shine like dragon eyes. A bright spotlight illuminates the bank like a fiery breath. Everyone is hunched over, desperate not to be spotted. Luckily, a thick layer of flora cloaked the anglers, though slivers still cut through the foliage creating a mosaic of light shards upon the ground.

"Stay behind the trees. Can anyone see the car?"

"I can." whispers FishTrick.

"Where is it?"

"It's just on the other side of the bridge."

"Fuck, man."

SH shakes his head. The group is only seventy-five yards from the bridge. Once the ranger crosses the bridge, there is nothing they can do.

"We need to move."

"Do you guys do this a lot?" asks one of the Group.

"We've never been spotted before." SH responds, nonchalantly.

SH kneels to the ground to try to spot the vehicle. The spotlight passes over him. He quickly jumps back behind the trees. Once the light passes, he looks over to FishTrick.

"Come on."

They quickly make a dash away from the bridge back the way they came. They stay low and in the shadows. Behind them the other four hustle after them.

They continue to creep along the shore.

"Stop!" SH barks as one of the Four almost stumbles out into a clearing.

"Stay behind the trees."

One of the Four turns back to his group and tells them to stop, they huddle together. A light once against starts to scan the bank, nerve-rackingly slow. There is a dead silence.

"Let's stay behind the trees and go up the hill." suggest FishTrick.

"Good idea, man!"

They wait for the light to pass.

"Let's go!" whispers SH as he starts to make a mad, hundred yard dash up a hill. He turns to look back. Behind him and to the right is FishTrick, scrambling up through the wet, slippery grass and in the distance he can see the ranger's lights starting to sweep back. He turns his attention forward again and can make out the river bed in the distance.

"LIGHT!" shouts FishTrick and, without hesitation, SH drops to the ground and hugs the dirt. His left cheek is resting on the cold, damp grass and he hears his heart beating through his temple. He can see the light ride over him and he prays that he can't be distinguished from a pile of brush. The light passes. He quickly jumps to his feet and starts forward. He looks back and sees FishTrick is running off in the wrong direction.

"This way, Fish!"

SH is in full spring. He can see the fence that divides the lake from the river bed; danger from safety.

"Light!" FishTrick once again shouts, but SH is too far over the hill. He decides to just keep running. He can see the shadows in front of him cast by the spotlight.

SH runs for another twenty yards before he realizes that, in his excitement, he has forgotten to breath. He takes in a gasp. His lungs burn in agony. He clenches his teeth.

"Fuck, all those bowls I had earlier are not helping me now," SH thinks to himself.

He dips down and spins around to see FishTrick coming over the hill towards him.

"I think they saw me." he pants.

"It's too late, we should just run."

The two make a straight line towards the river bed. After a few more yards, they stop to turn back and see if there was any sign of the ranger. Clear. Neither is there any sign of the Four. They continue to run, but it is clear they are both out of breath. They come up a number of piles of dry brush. They decide to seek cover behind the mounds and catch their breathes.

SH peeks his head over the hay and scans the horizon for some sign of life. Nothing.

"I don't see anything."

"Okay, let's get to the river bed."

SH realized that in his adrenaline-fueled haste to grab his gear, he was holding his tackle in a most awkward manner, contributing to his exhaustion. The line which had resulted from the tangle was being dragged behind him, ensnaring itself onto all sorts of things causing his arm to be constantly jerked back. Also, his tackle bag was thrown over his shoulder allowing it to swing wildly as he ran, reducing his balance. In addition, the way that he grasped his three rods so tightly, but awkwardly, resulting in the line and guides cutting into this hand. Once under a small semblance of security, SH was able to remedy all of his problems and they were quickly off towards the river bed.

Remaining ever vigilant, the two make their way to the fence, but was hampered by the sight of a tent pitched on the other side. Not wanting to add more variables to the situation, they decided to follow the fence down to a gate. Along the way, they stayed low and constantly watched for lights.

Eventually they cross the gates and are almost to the last fence.

"Get down!" warns FishTrick.

The two drop low as several cars pass overhead. They soon disappear without incident. FishTrick and SH jump over the last fence and breathe a sigh of relief.

"Holy shit that was intense, bro!"

"Fuck yeah, Smoke on the Water, bitches!"

They make their way to their cars and turn to each other.

"High-five!"

After reminiscing the night's events, the depart for their cars. FishTrick gets in his and drives off. SH gets into his car and takes off his hat, flinging it onto the passenger seat. He slides the key in and starts the engine. He sits there for a moment, perfectly still. A grin slowly grows. He shakes his head and lets out a chuckle. He shifts into Drive and pulls out onto the street.

Hard Coe 2012 Pt. III

 

Mile follows mile and I can feel morale slipping. The cloud cover has long burned away and tree shade is just a faint memory. With the sun at its zenith, the shadows shrink and cower tightly under its progenitors, providing no sanctuary for our parched party.

Desperate to keep our spirits high, I run ahead, yelling, "I think it's just around this corner!" And each time, the disappointment is even greater than the last.

Eventually, even my enthusiasm was spent and my heart yearned for the moment I would touch the water. Indeed, Anza was apt when, on his expedition through the area in 1776, he wrote:

 

"...If we traveled along the bottom, there were many stones and much water. When one or the other became impassable, we turned to the slopes, down which we almost slid... To this place... we have given the name of Sierra del Chasco (Mountain of Deception) because of its difficult passage... which nobody had anticipated."

Anza was no fool. Although the scenery appeared idyllic and docile, the going was deceitfully tough.

We all struggled on, our bags seemingly getting heavier with each step, while our backs ached more and more by the minute. We took frequent breaks, each no more than fifteen minutes. I think ten minutes is the optimal amount of time for a break. It gives your muscles a rest, but does not let the "lazies" slip into your legs.

Soon enough I reach a familiar marker. "Coit Lake 1.2 mi" is etched onto a vertical post. Okay guys, for reals this time. We're almost there. Like some coy bitch, the last mile or so is the most brutal. A grueling hike up and over a ridge, before traversing sharply down a steep incline. Any avid hiker knows that it's the downhill that really gets ya. By the time I get my first glimpse of the water, my right knee is killin' me and I'm limping down the hill. My anticipation finally got its outlet and a flood of exhilaration shot through me. Gimped knee be damned, I could almost touch the water. I start a mad hobble-skip down, slipping and sliding on the loose, rocky dirt. I make small leaps through the air, slowing myself on impact and bouncing up into another leap. I keep my knees bent, but slightly rigid as I swing with my hips to hop and pivot. Pain be damned. I was too close.

The Five Pack wallowing in the lap of victory having arrived at Kelly Lake.
That's right, bitches; that is a float tube, large and in charge.

Reaching the bottom, I toss off my pack onto a log and rush down another steep slope to the water's edge. Clear, but stained. A light brown. There is vegetation, but it looks dead and is sparce. I don't even make out any fish. This is not good. I talked up a lot of hype for this trip. A lot. If things don't pan out then my reputation as a more svelt, modern day, Asian-equivalent Grisly Adams may be tarnished.

Being the first one down, I immediately get started to hopefully figure out the fish before the rest of the crew get down. I brought with me four sets:

Berkley Tactix 5'6" ultralight with a Abu Garcia Cardinal 101 (2# Berkley Trilene 100% FC)

W&M Skeet Micro Spin Rod 6'10" Finesse Tube Jig with a Abu Garcia Orra S Spinning Reel

(4# Maxima Ultragreen Line)

Falcon Bucoo Micro Guide Casting Rod 7' Medium with a Abu Garcia Pro Max Casting Reel (left)

(20# Power Pro Spectra Braided Line Vermillion Red)

Shimano 6' ultralight noodle rod that I've since lost and am really pissed at. It had the tiniest reel

(2# P-Line CXX Moss Green)

One by one the group trickles in. I start out with a 4" YUM F2 Dinger (Wtrmn Seed) wacky-style on an 1# Owner Wacky Hook modified with my own custom wire weedguard on the Falcon rod. I make a first cast out trying to parallel a tule line to my left. I get about twenty yards. It takes about a five count to stop. I figure it just sitting on some weeds. I let it sit on the bottom. I give it a four count. I give the rod a couple of short six inch hops. With controlled slack, I ease the worm back to the bottom. Now a three count. Five hops. Back down. I continue this about five more before I feel that I am out of the strike zone and wind in. I make a side arm roll-cast. I aim closer to the tules and try to get in as tight as I can. Bingo. The lure collides with the tule stalk as it enters the water. 1... 2... 3...4.. tic. I wind in and give it a quick snap. Fish on! I can feel right away it's a dink. I bounce it out of the water and give it a peck on the head. I turn to my companions, "The game is on gentlemen."

I proceed to hand out rods and give pointers on how to fish. They all make their way to the water and start putting those tips into play. In the meantime, I have pumped up my Creek Company U-Boat float tube. I also packed out a hand pump, fins, and Caddis neoprene waders.

Being the only person who can use a baitcasting reel, I continue with the Falcon combo. I kick out around the bend and travel up a cove. I make fan casts towards likely hide outs and unfortunately do not pick up very many.
 





While throwing at a sunken tree, I get snagged up and break off. I start to kick back over to camp. I find the Pack standing on the bank throwing a new rig that FishTrick had researched. A simple bobber and jig rig.

 

It's an Arkie Brand 1/16th oz leadhead with a Sexee Shad Tail plastic.
Below is some footage of how he worked it.

 

I ask to get the Shimano noodle rod as I continue to film the action.

  

 

I float off and hug the west bank, staying near the tules. The bite picks up and I hook a fish every few casts.

 

 

 

It starts to get pretty chilly in the shade so I kick off towards the sunnier north shore. I float on the outside edges of the tules and flip a float-n-fly rig on the Shimano rod. The sunny north shore is where the action is at and soon I am hooking up with beautiful palm-sized on nearly every cast. I use the flipping technique.

 

First, I hold my hand so that I am gripping the foregrip of the rod. Some rods don't have a foregrip. I just hold the rod directly ahead (moving towards the tip) of the reel.

 

Then I extend my pink down and place it on the spool to hold down the line and prevent it from unwinding. This is a trick that I learned from Bill Murphy's book, In Pursuit of Giant Bass, (one of my favorites) used in another technique called "stitching." 

 

Then I pull out about three to four feet of line with my left hand while leaving about four feet hanging off of my tip. That leaves me with about ten feet of line to play with so I will not be engaging the reel anymore.

 

Then, with my rod hand extended up and out to about my head level, I lower just the tip by folding down down my wrist and create a pendulum motion to gain momentum. If timed correctly (once the float has hit the apex of its backswing, you lift the rod tip, again, making sure to only use your wrist and not your arm), the float will swing out and you can precisely "place" the lure where you want it. It takes some practice to learn to coordinate your two hands, but it's a very useful technique.

 

I try to put the lure right at the edge of the stem of the tules as they enter the water. I do my best to minimize splash and I let the lure sink. I takes a couple of seconds to sink down, you can usually tell because the bobber will drift towards the lure until stops which means it's above the fly. I let the nymph sit for a couple of seconds and then give it a few of the slightest twitches. Then I let it sit again. This whole time, my left hand is still holding my hand and is moved up next to the rod so that the line I was holding is extended into the water. If I don't get an bites, I reach back with my left hand, pulling the line with it and I raise my right hand and lift my tip with my wrist. Rinse. Repeat.

 

Often, the fish just nip at your fly. If the fish doesn't take it whole-heartedly then I just leave the fly be. Once I see bobber dive under, I let go of the line with my left hand and grab the handle. Then it's just a matter of lifting the rod tip to remove any slack and leaning away from the fish. A jerk set is not usually necessary. If you miss the fish, just flip the fly back in and often the fish will strike again!

Crystal Rivers Bead Head Zug Bug

Mr. Crappie Pear Rattlin' float

Here's an example of the beautiful palm-sized 'Gills I was catching. 

 



The original plan was to move on and settle at Coit Lake, however, as we were fishing, we were passed over by several groups of hikers and I figured that they'd take all the good camping spots at Coit so it was decided to spend the night at Kelly and hike to Coit the next day.

 

Eventually the sun gets low enough in the sky to signal that I need to start preparing my sleeping spot. I find a spot around the bend, tightly tucked against the bluff. There's a log to sit on and we our far out of the way of passing visitors. There's even a fire pit and against my better judgement, we start a fire. I must admit, I did enjoy having the fire and it was hard to put into words the satisfaction of biting into a hot, juicy Kielbasa after a long, hard day of strenuous hiking.

 

I must say, fires are not allowed in Henry Coe and eventually we were caught and ticketed. Don't make the same mistake. You can, however, use gas stoves.

 



 

After eating and getting my sleeping quarters prepped, I layered up and headed back out to fish. Most of the others had gone to sleep, but I continue fishing late into the night. There are surprisingly few mosquitos and I fish relatively undisturbed. I use my Skeet Reese rod and throw a Lucky Craft G-Splash Popper in American Shad color. I get a decent bite and hook up with a dozen or so fish using a medium-slow pop-pause-pop-pop retrieve. By eleven o'clock, the bite slows to down crawl and so I retired to get an early start for tomorrow. I snuggle into my sleeping bag and turn towards the dying embers, it's faint glow warming my face, and close my eyes. I fall asleep surrounded by the sounds of nature...

Hard Coe 2012 Pt. II

Ant drops us off at the entrance of the trailhead. We unpack our gear and sit tight while he drives back to the park the jeep then walks the two miles back to the trailhead. He's a good sport. Becoming restless, we kill some time by traversing the dusty bank and going down to the stream below us. The water is trickling stream, only a foot wide at some points, opening up to a pool about fifty feet long by twenty five feet wide. It is very clear with a slight green stain. There are no signs of catchable fish, although we do spot some tiny mosquito fish.

I light up the blunt I had been carrying. It's pretty well rolled if I do say so myself. It makes its round. Then another. And another. That feeling returns. I am at a precipice of something great. Of a great accomplishment.

The weather is cool. Actually a little too cool. I had taken off and packed my extra layers knowing that I will be sweating soon, but sitting and waiting in the shade has me uncomfortably chilled. I know that soon, I will be begging for the cloud cover and so I am anxious because we are losing optimal hiking weather.

Soon Ant is back and we prepare to embark. FishTrick suggests we take the Anza trail, noting that it will be less steep with more tree cover. Trusting his judgement, I agree and so we make a left at the first fork instead of a right.

The hiking starts off rough. Having spent so much time fishing and not hiking, I could really feel the toll that that fact was having on my stamina. By hour's end, I was not anticipating another two and a half to three hours of this.

FishTrick is right and our route is pretty cool with decent tree cover. Something that I'm sure was appreciated by the Coe First-timers, although, ironically they probably did not appreciate it, having not yet felt their backs blistered by the brutal open sky. There were many breaks taken and as the day wore on and the sun crept higher and higher into the sky, the number of breaks only increased.

For the time being, I take the lead as we progress further and further into the undergrowth. A rustle. I glance over and catch a brief glimpse of a blur shuffle into the foliage.

"Guys! Check it out!

The rest of the troupe catches up. We sit silently for a moment before several wild turkeys emerge from the growth. Wild turkeys are known to be very territorial. They watch us, more wary than scared. We use the time to catch our breaths then move on our way.

We all continue, on and on, as the trail winds through forest thickets, across babbling creeks, and along sheer slope cliffs before depositing us past the tree line, on an abrupt incline, surrounded by an endless field of tall, dry grass and a breath-taking view of the surrounding valley. We all stop and put down our pack. Our backs and shoulders ache. Our shirts are drenched from perspiration.






I take the opportunity to pack a bowl in my pipe. I light up and release the smoky breath into the air. The wind literally rips it from my lips and in an instant it is gone. I pass it to the left. I am met with shakes or the heads or flicks of the wrist. Fine. More for me, I guess. I remind everyone to make sure to stay hydrated. And again we're off.





Only a few minutes later, we are greeted by the remains of an abandoned ranch. Old and dilapidated, it gave off an eerie feeling. All that remains are the wooden posts of what appear to have been a horse pen. Like a treacherous Siren, the sprawled wood partially hidden by the tall grass almost beckons one to come and frolic within it's innocent enclosures. However, a closer look at the grass stalks reveals their true nature. There were already frolickers abound, concealed in the vegetation.

Ticks.


Definitely not the kind of place you want
to come across lost and alone one night.

Now that the trail is bordered on either side by long grass we needed to start being tick-smart. We each keep a vigilant eye on each other as we walk in line. Every twenty minutes or so, we stop and spot check one another, wary of ticks looking for their next meal.


Blacklegged Tick: Vector for the dreaded Lyme Disease

Our cautiousness pays off, as one tick after another is identified and removed. They are quickly disposed of with a quick flick of a finger.

However, ticks are a shifty lot and despite the due diligence and persistent tick-checks, a lone intruder managed to infiltrate our ranks. While hiking, FishTrick let out a yelp and it was soon discovered that a tick had bit him on the waist.

Luckily, it didn't have a chance to bore in and FishTrick sent it back form whence it came with an OK KO.

Then on we continue...

May 11th - 13th; Pt. II: Where Frogs Fear to Tread

It's now a little over one o'clock in the morning. I slowly cruise through a residential neighborhood. I cringe at the sounds of dogs barking, alerting the world to my presence. I make a pass. The hole looks secure. No signs of danger. Not yet, anyway. I turn down another street and find a car to park behind. It makes my car seem less suspicious, I imagine. I quickly shove a burger and fries down my gut. I eat in the dark as to not draw any attention. Then I grab my rods and am silently traveling down the brightly lit street. I make it around a bend and a gate comes into view. Using my "agility-based" build to my advantage, I easily slip between the gate doors. I am packing very lightly, carrying only a pack stuffed with various soft plastic lures (Five inch Yamasenkos, four inch YUM Dingers, four inch YUM tubes, and four inch Fat Ikas) and two rods.



Mean Green
Kistler Micro Mag Casting Rod 7' Heavy.....
Shimano Curado 201E Casting Reel
fifty# PowerPro Super 8 Slick (Aqua Green)







True Blue
St. Croix Legend Tournament Cast Rod 7'1" Med Hvy Fast
Daiwa Tierra Baitcasting Reel
twenty# PowerPro Super 8 Slick (Marine Blue)
eight# Berkley Trilene 100% Fluorocarbon Clear (leader)

5" Senko (Black/Blue Flk) + 2/0 Owner TwistLock Light Hook

I make my way through the grass and over the hill, disappearing behind a sand pit. From there it's just a short way to the lake. This place is a particular burn as it's private property. I must be extra vigilant of cops and security, as well as the FLIR capable police choppers that patrol overhead. This is ninja fishing at its finest. I plan to make it a quick run. A couple of hours at most. I want be in, catch a few frog fish and be out before anyone can react to my presence. I won't let down my guard. "I will be invisible," I tell myself. No mistakes.

Spro Dean Rojas Bronzeye Frog 65 (Midnight Walker)

As I approach the lake, the water is perfectly still. Directly in front of me is the middle of the lake; I can make out several aerators softly bubbling in the distance; to my right is a small bridge. A layer of matted algae (Filamentous Algae aka "pond scum," "lake moss," "snotgrass") covers the water from the bank out to about seven feet. I lay down True Blue and make a short side-arm cast with a frog to the bridge. I try to minimize splashdown as to not spook the fish.

Pause.... walk........ walk-walk.... walk... walk-walk-walk.....walk....walk..... walk-walk-walk....

I walk the frog quickly across the surface. I know the water is shallow by the bridge and so am confident that a shallow fish should be pretty active and would more likely react to a quick moving lure.

Nothing.

I make another cast. And then another. The opposite bank that the bridge connects to creates a short channel before making a bend and opening up the central part of the lake. Along its banks too is a border of algae. About ten uneventful casts in, I make a long cast to the outer edge of the snotgrass line. As I walk the frog parallel to the weedline, my expectations of a strike are high. As I exit the weedline and enter the open water between the channel, my expectations are lower, but still expectant. As the frog leaves the open water and returns back to the snotgrass on my bank, my expectations are to prepare for another cast. Just as I enter a small pocket at the edge of the algae, I get a light strike. Startled, I pause for a moment before I continue to walk the frog. About three twitches later... BLAM!

I see the explosion. I hear the splash. I feel the tug. And I swing. All I end up hooking up are my jeans as the lure shoots out of the water and into my leg. Well at least I'm getting closer to figure out the pattern. I make some pitches several feet past my bank's snotgrass line and walking it in without luck. I make another long cast. Suddenly, behind me, to my eight o'clock, I hear a voice.

"How you doing tonight?"

Awww fuck! I think it's the authorities and I'm dicked. I slowly turn to my left and see two guys, dressed in hoodies and holding rods. Whew, I think. Lucked out this time.

"Uhhhh kinda slow. Only one bite so far."

"Cool." One guys says. They walk up the water and cast out.

Shit, these  guys are going to fish in front of me, I better move now to get ahead of them. I quickly wind in and walk over to where the two guys are, right next to where I put down True Blue.

"What are you guys throwing?" They are using a couple of spinning get'ups. "Worms?"

"Yeah. My friends throwing a little craw that he's been killing them on."

"Little Texas-rigged craw?"

"Yeah."

"Nice."

I continue on southbound on the east shore. About forty feet down, I pass a little hole in the algae that just looks too perfect. Having a rod in each hand, I had to just do a one-handed flip into the hole. I basically just gently place the frog on the opposite edge of the hole. Paused for a couple of seconds and then twitched it. BOOM! A fish erupts on the lure and I swing up with my arm. I can't wind the fish in so I lose it as it explodes out of the water and shakes me off. Fuck. I won't make that mistake again.

I hurry south, where I feel more confident. I pass what seems to be some sort of device that heats up sulfur and pumps it into the water. Perhaps that's what those aerated bubbles are? I approach a small cove that tangents the pumphouse. I hide True Blood behind some trees. I wanna do some Mean Green damage for a bit. The weather could not be more perfect. There is heavy cloud cover, which holds in the heat. The temperature is a mild sixty eight degrees. I am only wearing a softshell over a light fleece jacket and I am perfectly comfortable. There is still no wind and the water is glassy. It is going to be good fishing.

I start making short pitches to the outter algae edge. On one of the pitches, the frog lands and I give it a twitch. Less than a second later, a fish explodes on the lure! I lower my rod tip, wind in, and swing! I hit meat. It jumps once. It jumps twice. On it's third jump it lands on top of the moss and gets buried into it. I winch it in and it feels like three pounds. I get soon get, what appears to be a big pile of muck, to the bank. I grab a handful of scum and lob it back into the water. Free of it's constraints, the bass begins to buck and thrash. I scoop it up and attempt to unhook it. The fish is a nice buck-fifty, but it swallowed my frog like it was a five pounder. My fingers get pretty roughed up as they are pressed up the fish's vomerine teeth while trying to leverage the frog out of its throat. I finally manage to undo the hooks and toss the fish back in the water. Ordinarily, I try to gently place a fish back into the water, but this time, the algae was so thick, I thought I should help the Serpent by-pass the barrier by chucking it over the moss.

I continue to fish, using a variety of patterns. When I could, I would make long cast trying to parallel the outer algae edge and work the lure back maximizing time in the strike zone. Otherwise, I would pitch the frog a foot or two beyond the edge and just give a few walks back to the mat, before winding in and pitching to another spot. Once in a while, I even made long casts into open water along points, but those were never too productive. What was interesting was that when I caught fish, it was always in a short flurry. Maybe two or three fish in a ten foot bank space in ten to fifteen minutes. Then I would have no action for the next two hundred feet, even though it didn't look obviously different than the productive bank. I'd move down some more, then another flurry.

The time nears three o'clock - the Dark Hour. My allotted time is coming to an end and I must make a decision. Stay and continue fishing the golf course (CC) and risk helicopters and patrol drive-bys, as well as nosy neighbors and an earlier curfew, or head out and hit up the no fishing-access pond (CN), using up valuable time and risking looking for a new bite, but experiencing beautiful surroundings and longer safe fishing period. Why would I go looking for another bite, when I already found one right in front of me? I've decided.

I keep walking around the east shore and I keep getting action. The average fish being about a buck and the biggest, pushing a buck seventy-five. Nothing huge, but the consistency makes it a great night of fishing. As the night grows longer, my list of "frog bites to get" grows shorter. Cast, pause, one twitch, bite: check. Pitch to moss, immediate blow-up: check. Cast, walk along the edge, boil: check. Hopping frog over moss, miss, twitch, blow-up: check. In terms of variety and quantity of action, this is the best night of topwater frog fishing I've ever had.

5" Senko (BBF) + 2/0 TwistLock Hook Texposed

Before I know it, it's almost four in the morning and soon there will be activity on the course. The workers will be out preparing for the new day and I will need to make myself scarce. I make my way back around to retrieve True Blue, still hidden behind a tree. I switch rods and cast out towards an aerator, on the end, a five inch Yamasenko (tex-posed, fly lined, black blue flake [BBF]). It hits the water and I count it down as it sinks. Before it even hits the bottom... tic. I do the deed and swing. During the fight, the fish jumps and I see my Senko flying off out of it's mouth and into the water, never to be seen again. I let the fish go after a little peck on it head. I reach into my pocket and randomly grab a worm. It's another five inch Senko, but this time watermelon black and red flake (WBRF). I thread it on the hook spring and leave the hook slightly exposed on the top. Another cast towards the aerator. It hits the bottom and I let it soak for a moment. Then lift, drop, lift, drop. I work the worm all the way back in. Hmm. Let's try that again. Another cast. Then another. Five casts later and I am still empty handed.

I decide to switch colors. I grab a handful of worms and pick out another BBF to thread on. A cast to the aerator. Again, before the lure hits the bottom, I get a pick up. Wind in, release, and another cast. This time it hits the bottom. One second... two seconds... thr... I get a bite. As I am bringing the fish in, I see the headlights of golf carts in the distance. Shit. I crouch down and quickly hook the fish. I let it go and swing around to pick up Mean Green. I make a beeline towards the gate.

I make it to the far end of the lake, nearest to the gate, and where I started fishing. I figure I can get in one more cast. Another long cast into open water. About a second after the Senko hits the water, I feel my line pulling away from me. I give a hard set. Perhaps too hard. With a *bink* my line snaps (surprisingly at the braid and not the leader). Oh well. I guess that's a sign. I wind in my loose line and head towards the gate. I silently slip out and am out of danger. I look at my watch... four thirty seven am.  It's too late for the CN, so I decide to go fish the gray light at the El Dorado Ranger Lake. Specifically, the east bank shallows full of stubble. Hopefully, there will be some cruisers looking for an easy meal and I want to be the one to give it to them. I'll fish until eight, then head out to my car to meet up with a new fishing buddy to work ED during the day.

I lean back my seat and stretch out my back. My back aches and my shoulders are cramped and I'm physically exhausted, but I couldn't be happier. I just had an amazing session and the knowledge that it's not even close to over yet, gives me the energy to push on. I soon pull off into the street, El Do bound and hungry for more...

May 11th - 13th; Pt. I: Seaworthy Surprise

It's Friday night. I am comtemplating whether I should just rest tonight or should I start my fishing early. It's already nearing ten. It'll take about forty five minutes to get to Long Beach. I am trying to figure out my time line... high tide is at around nine. I could get to the PCH bridge (WB) by elevenish, so I'd have a decent amount of tide left. Hmmm, fish there for a bit until it gets late enough to check out the golf course. Fish there a couple of hours and then head over to the no fishing-access pond until five, five thirty before heading to El Dorado to fish the grey light. Sounds like a plan.

Ten thirty seven pm. I roll into the parking lot of a nearby hotel. The parking lot is packed as usual for a weekend night. It is always a strange mix of young twenty, thirty somethings and then fifty, sixty somethings. I am not quite sure what they are doing there hanging out and socializing in the parking lot.

I get out and grab my saltwater set up, the seven foot MH Falcon and Lew's MG spooled with ten# Vicious fluorocarbon. On the end is a Arkie brand 1/4 tube insert head with a YUM three inch ribbed grub (redshad).

1/4 Arkie Tube Insert + YUM 3" ribbed grub (redshad)

It's a slow night of fishing. It's over an hour in before I get my first nibble. I was doing a slow roll when I felt a tic. I wound down and set, but came up empty handed. The grub had not been pulled down. Perhaps it was not a bite at all, but it felt like one. I continue throwing the grub for another thirty minutes before I get another pick up. This time I was working the grub more on the bottom with double jerks, about eight to twelve inches high and pauses between one to five seconds. During a pause, I feel a single tic and set the hook. Fish on!

I slowly work it in, being careful to not lose it on the rocks. I get it to the gate and have to literally hand over hand lift it with my line. A svelt, one and a quarter pounder. I've read that you shouldn't touch a fish with dry hands, and in Homer Circle's book, he recommends not touching the fish at all. So I always try to lip the fish or just hold onto the lure. This time, the fish was small enough and the lure sticking out enough to hold the fish by the lure. I hold it with one hand and reach into my pocket with my other to grab my phone. With a thrash of its body, the fish slips out of my hand and snaps my line, sending both fish and lure plummeting into the water below. Oh well, there goes that.

2" Storm WildEye Live Crappie

I crouch next to the slip's communal laundry/bathhouse facing a light to tie on something new. I stay low and keep a constant eye out, lest the Marina Police sneak up on me. I decide to try something new and tie on a Storm WildEye Live Crappie swimbait. It's a two inch panfish profile swimbait. It looks a lot like the little perch fry that I see darting in and out of the rocks. I remove the bottom treble hook to mitigate snags. I make about ten casts without any action. On one of my casts, I overshoot and land on the bank rocks. I give it a little tug and find that I'm stuck. Fuck! Now I have to climb down this gate bridge and walk along the rocky bank to retrieve my lure. I give a couple more shakes and the lure pops out. W00t! I wind it in and run my line through my fingers. It's got some decent fray-age. I figure I should retie, but I am lazy and I don't want to be vulnerable to the cops and I should be heading out anyway. I make the decision to not re-tie. I think to myself, "Will I regret this? I could probably handle another average sized spotty and even if I break off, I am most interested in whether I got a bite anyway. What could I possibly regret?" I'm convinced. I throw a few more times to the lane south of the gate. Nothing. I turn around and face north. I hug a lamp post to my left, which lies at the corner of the gate. To my right is the gate and the rocky bank. Directly in front of my lies open water. To my left is the lamp post, the water and the boat slips. I make a long cast out towards open water, which lies nestled between the boat slips and the bank.

In the dark, it can be hard to see your lure when casting, which can sometimes lead to backlashes, as the lure hits the water without adequate slowing of the spool with one's thumb. This was one of those times. The lure slowly drifts down to the bottom and is deadsticked while I work out the slight backlash in my spool. I pull out enough line to clear the tangle and with the index finger and thumb of my left hand pinching the line tightly I start to wind in the slack.

As I wind in I come to realize that my line is pulling away from me at a brisk pace. Instinctively, I swing my body to the left. The line goes tight and, still in my fingers, cuts into my flesh. I only notice for a moment before all my attention is back on what's on the end of my line. I can tell right away that this is no spotty.

Before I can even start to wind in the line goes limp. Nooooooo! Did it break? Of all the times! I violently curse at myself as I start to wind in furiously. Something doesn't feel right... maybe I didn't break off, maybe it's coming back right at m... Something in the water catches my eye and I glimpse down. Holy shit! I am dumbfounded for a few seconds as my brain tries to comprehend what I am seeing in front of me. It's a huge BAT RAY! It swims by me and enters a small cove created by the gate bridge meeting the dock. It busts a U-turn and starts to swim back towards the open water. This whole time I am winding in as fast as I can. Just as it turns, I catch up to the slack. The ray barrels past me and my drag starts to slip. The ray isn't peeling out, but is going at a constant clip. It just keeps taking line. I don't even think it knows it's hooked. Every few seconds I thumb down on the spool and my rod just starts to load up and I'm forced to release it. I takes line for a minute straight. I look down at my reel. I am about to be spooled. There's nothing I can do. I have no control over this Serpent. I decide that I'll just have to break off if I don't want to lose two hundred yards of fluorocarbon in the sea. I point my rod straight at the water and thumb down firmly. There's no dramatic snap. Just a soft *bink* and it's off. It must have cut my line on a rock because the break looked really clean.
 

CGI rendering of the scene (birds' eyeview)

Holy fuck! I shake my head. HOLY FUCK! I scream out loud. My adrenaline is pumping through my veins. My hands are shaking. That was by far the biggest thing I've ever hooked up on. It must have been at least fifty pounds. Where's a prostitute when you need one, 'cause I needed something to do with the massive erection I got?!

I look down at my watch. Twelve fifty five. Perfect timing. I start walking out to my car, which lies on the other side of the bridge. As I approch the bridge, the man who dwells underneath it stands right on the border of the darkness that lies beneath the bridge, directly in my way. I walk up to him. We make eye contact. He grimaces. Sorry bro, I'm high as a kite and not even you can bring me down! I shoot him a grin and throw up my hand in the universal sign of "gimme a high five, brotha!" He looks at me, obviously confused, and hesitantly lifts his hand and gives me a high five. "All right, now you have a good night, brother!" I say as I continue by him.

I get into my car and I am still giddy with excitement. I back my car up and head out to the street. I make my way to the golf course, ready for the next part of my adventure.

Hard Coe 2012 - Pt. I

Fourteen years in the making. That is how this particular adventure begins. The group of friends I've had since middle school had always talked about having some great camping trip sometime in the near future. Soon weeks became months and months became years and then years became decades. Days of limitless potential slowly faded into days of routine mediocrity. We trudged on with our lives and the thought of that grand trip was shelved as one of those "things you'll do at some point."

However, the inner cave man within us had not died. Deep within, lay a dormant ember waiting to be fueled and by the luck of the Gods, we caught a wind and our fires erupted. It was decided that we shall make the dream a reality and go on a backpacking trip. We quickly established a plan and our anticipation was palpable. Our plan: a three day, three night backpacking junket through the Henry Coe State Park wilderness. We planned to drive through the entire night, after work, and start hiking early in the morning in order to minimize time spent walking through the hottest part of the day.

The trip really starts at a Denny's in the town of Gilroy. It is here where we devour as many surplus calories as we can force down before we begin our sojourn free of civilization. Exhausted from a lack of sleep and gluttonous feasting, we muster our strength and prepare for the difficult task before us.

Our route commences at Coyote Hollows. It is the area in which one parks one's vehicle and pays for camping fees. We roll in, like a two-car parade, kicking up a storm of dust. It's six dollars per vehicle per night and five dollars per person per night. We all shove our money in the envelope and drop it in the slot. We're all set. Now we need to get to the trailhead about two miles away. We could just walk the two miles to the trailhead with our packs, but I have a better idea. We throw all of our gear into the Jeep. It can't fit all five of us and our gear so we do the only logical thing... we hold onto the frame and ride that bitch like its mutherfucking "campaign mode."

The ride is blisteringly cold. With our hand occupied holding onto the Jeep, we are at the wind's mercy. Our only choice is to grit our teeth and bear it. But the wind turns out to be a good thing. It rejuvenates my body and invigorates my spirits. The gravity of the moment starts to kick in and I realize that I'm finally there. That we're finally there. This dream is a reality and it's only just begun...

The Weekend Pt. II

It's off in the distance, about two hundred feet away and to our right. I crouch and start furiously winding in. Immediately to my right, I hear FishTrick whistle. I think I am wound in, so I tuck my rod under my arm and turn to run. My rod arm jerks back. I'm snagged! I yank violently at the rod several times before a deafening SNAP engulfs the night air. I pause in fear for just a moment before I swing down and scoop up my pack. I swing it over one arm and I am off. Like two deer evading a tiger, we are dashing through the blur of the woods. It is not until we are several hundred feet away do we slow to catch our breaths. I listen for the sound of pursuing authorities, but there is nothing but the sound of nature around us.

We quickly and quietly make our way over the fence and back to civilization. There are sighs of relief muttered. There are high fives thrown. There are swear words spoken. We curse the Fish Gods for driving us out as the bite was picking us. We demand satisfaction. We consider what to do next. We make it back to our cars. It is 2:30 am.

The night is too young, and the stakes are too high to give up now. We decide it time to hammer some spotties. I have a special idea. FishTrick arrives first and starts fishing. Out of sight and out of mind, I prepare my secret. I walk up to FishTrick with a huge grin on my face and a float tube on my back. High fives are thrown.

On go the waders and then the fins. I slip into the water like a snake and quietly float out into the marina. I cannot remember the last time I fished with the float tube so the sensations are a bit overwhelming. It is a whole different game fishing from a float tube on the water than fishing while standing on the bank, especially with the addition of current. I am constantly moving and it is hard to work the lure the way I want. It is harder to cast from the lower position and am constantly getting hung up on the bank rocks. And once caught, I am forced to pull myself over to the snag to release myself.

Soon, I am more comfortable and am surprised when I haven't gotten a bite. The whole time, I've been working up current in between a dock and the bank. I have been trying to run my 3" swimbait (Sexy Smelt) parallel to the rocks. I reach the dock gate which has a ramp that joins it to the dock. It hovers about four feet over my head forming a bridge. I make a beautiful underarm roll-cast underneath the bridge directly to the edge of the dock. It's one of those perfect casts where you're sure that, if you're going to get a bite, it'll be with that cast. I lower my tip and allow the lure to hit the bottom. I do my hop-swim technique as I retrieve the lure back. About two or three swims in, on the drop, I get a bite. With a couple of quick turns and a long swing, I set the hook and the Serpent takes over.

Immediately, I am being pulled forward, against the current, towards the gate pilings. I start kicking as I lift my rod and wrestle the fish away from the sharp rocks. Surprisingly, I just start kicking instinctively and suddenly it's as if I were one with the water. It's like I was standing on the bank and my muscles were in perfect coordination. I didn't have to think about what I was doing and could place all my focus on battling this beast.

CGI rendering of the Serpent

After a short tug of war, the fish is too tired to pull me around. I carefully bring it in, making sure to maintain tension during the random spurts of thrashing. I get it to my hand and as I reach to lip it, the fish does the equivalent of spitting in my face; it violently writhes showering me in a spray of seawater. My glasses are covered by droplets rendering me effectively blind. I attempt to squint between the drops and jab my thumb at its face trying to get into its mouth. I finally thumb its lower jaw and lift it out of the water all the while the fish is still whipping its tail and shaking its head wildly. By the time the fish stops struggling and I victoriously hold it over my head, my thumb is bleeding and I am soaked.



It felt like, during the battle, that the fish was of size and holding the fish in my hands confirmed it. The gorgeous beast had quite a belly and was a 2 - 2.25#. I kicked my way back towards FishTrick and signaled him over to show off my catch. He congratulates me on my catch and tells me about how he just lost one a short time before. His reel is too low and is no longer fishable. I tell him that he can use my extra rods. Our conversation is interrupted as a man makes his way off a boat and walks towards the dock ramp. In a flash, FishTrick disappears into the night. I, however, cannot move nearly as fast and agilely. By the time the man reaches the ramp, I am a mere ten feet away, caught directly under a street lamp. I freeze. I figure I just need to act natural. I remain silent. The man is looking down, but walking directly at me. He reaches the ramp and makes a sharp left away from me onto the ramp. He never looks up. I don't make a sound. He continues up the ramp and exits. I start kicking as hard as I can back towards my launch zone.

FishTrick is already there. "Did he see you?" he asks. "No, I don't think so. I just sat perfectly still and it didn't look like he looked up." "I think he saw me." "Eh, I don't think it's a problem. It doesn't look like he gives a shit." FishTrick helps me climb up the beach and we walk back to our cars.

"I think I'm gonna roll out."

"Like I said, you can use one of my rods."

"Nah I'm gonna head out and try to catch up on some sleep."

"All right, brotha. Good fishing."

I put away the tube and gear back into my car. I get into the driver's seat and start the engine. It's almost four in the morning. I pull my phone out of my pocket. I open my browser and go to a tide table. 9:54 am- low tide. Almost six hours away. That means the water's still pretty high, but it'll be mostly slack, not ideal fishing conditions. I think about what FishTrick said and think of my own warm, soft bed at home. I turn off my car.

I grab my rod and walk out to the rocks. I line myself up to parallel the dock piling nearest to me. It's a lane that has produced many fish for me before, but not recently. I am still using the same swimbait. I make a long cast that goes about six feet past the piling upcurrent. I let lure settle to the bottom. I let it sit for about seven seconds before I start a slow wind. I know that to the right of the piling is a patch of eelgrass that is probably whats holding the fish. As I wind in, I go just slow enough to ticked the top of the blades. Just like I anticipated I get the familiar "tic-tic." I wind in and swing! The fish comes barreling at me and I am trying to wind in all the slack. I feel it wedging itself into the rock crevasses on the way back to me. Each time I ease a bit on the line and slowly start pulling. The easing of the line seems to make the fish stop pulling so hard and then I can more easily pull it out of its hole. I get it to the bank and quickly take a picture. I give it a kiss and let it swim off, then I shoot FishTrick an email. "First cast after you left!" Sucker.


I reach into my pocket and pull out a celebratory spliff. I light it up and take a hit. I make a long cast into the channel. I count as my lure slowly drops to the bottom. 24... 25... 26... My line goes limp. I let my breath out slowly through my nose. I can smell the pungent aroma of the smoke as it exits my nostrils. The moment is now even more real. The water. The rocks. The sky. I am really here. Of the nearly infinite ways that our universe could have arranged itself, it has arranged itself into this moment. It is almost five in the morning. I am standing alone, under a bridge, wet and cold, smoking a joint and having the time of my life.

The deep black sky slows turns navy blue and then a bright violet. Day is coming and my time here is running short. I make my last cast. Well, just one more. Then for real, the last one. Okay, time to head out. I take a few steps towards my car. Just one more. I turn back to the water and make a cast next to the dock where I think FishTrick lost his prize earlier. Bump, hop, bump, hop. I slowly work the lure back to me. About twenty five feet out, while on the sit, I get a single tick, but there's no mistaking it. I snap my body to the right and it's like snagging on a rock. Usually on the set I am able to turn the fish's head, but this time, it was like hitting a brick wall. Then it goes from a stonewall to a bucking bronco as the beast gets angry and starts to tug and run in the water. After an intense battle, I proudly hold up another beautiful Serpent. I pull out my scale. A hair over 2#. Exactly as I had estimated. I give it a peck and thank it for ending my session perfectly.

I end up back in my car. It's a little past six. Two hours before I gotta get to work. I'll take a power nap, I decide. I lower my backrest and wad up a sweater as a pillow. I close my eyes and start to nod off.

Images of the next Serpent swim through my head...

The Weekend Pt. I

It is 5:54 pm. Six more minutes. Brrrnng! My alarm goes off and in a flash I am out the door. Soon, I'm on my bike and the clinic is just a blur behind me as I fly past idle cars stuck at the light. I reach back to my seat and turn on my rear light. I cup the light as I make a quick peek to check if it's working. It flashes. Check. I signal left with my arm and my body follows suit; a left turn so sharp that a flitter of sparks cascades from my pedal as it makes contact with the street.

The cars are bumper to bumper. I glance at the drivers to make eye contact then deftly slip through the four cars to get to the far right lane.  I would be cold if it weren't for the immense heat radiating from the stopped cars to my left. I switch down to a lower gear and torque my body as I power up the hill ahead of me, squeezed in between cars and a wall. My quads and calves start to burn. I resort to a standing peddle. I try to take advantage of inspiration whenever I pass a vehicle playing some body-shaking pop song or bravado-instilling hip hop. I keep going.

Fifteen minutes later I am at the top. I stop and manually pick up and turn my bike to face the slope now ahead of me. Beads of sweat roll down my forehead as I grin. My hands slide down from the hoods to the drops. I look to my left, waiting for a break in traffic. The light changes and some cars in the opposite lane start turning left. I am clear. I lift my feet to the peddles and I am already moving before I even push.

As I pick up speed I am shifting upgear in order to catch up. In a few seconds I am at my highest gear and peddling as hard as I can. My hair is whipping in the wind and my eyes start to water. I can't see anything. "I could easily die right now." I casually think to myself. "No. Not before I fish." I start to blink emphatically in an effort to clear my eyes of (what I call) adventure-tears. There are no cars. All of the traffic is going in the opposite direction. I have both lanes to myself. I start to swerve back and forth, content in the lap of luxury.

Thirty three minutes later. I hop off my bike and enter my den (aka the FishLab TM). I need to get everything ready ASAP. I start throwing piles of clothes and bags of tackle into my car. My float tube and waders are already in the trunk. I try to go through a mental checklist, but I know I can never remember everything. The anticipation is getting to me. A faint giggle escapes me like I'm a giddy school girl. I hop into the driver's seat and back out of the garage.

One hour seven minutes later I am exiting the freeway. I drive for several minutes through the City of Long Beach before I arrive at a little residential street adjacent to a bridge that's adjacent to a park. I turn off my car and shoot my fishing buddy, FishTrick, a quick text. "Where are you?" I get out and start preparing my gear. I pull one rod out of the car. Then two. Then three. I get to seven before I decide... "No, that's too many." I slide the seventh rod back into my car, next to two others that will be staying behind. I have a crankbait, frog, Texas-rigged craw-worm, Senko, Sammy, and buzzbait tied on; each is ready to be deployed at a moment's notice.

My phone beeps. "north of the bridge on the west side" All right, west bank of Flats A it is. I start the trek towards the lake.

FishTrick and I don't manage to hook up with any fish. I get one missed bite much later in the evening (around 10:00 pm) on a crankbait, fan-casting parallel to the bank. The water had a decent amount of chop which really seemed to hurt the topwater bite we were looking for. I threw pretty much everything I had at some point and did not get any action other than the missed crankbait bite.

We fish until about 10:30 pm before we decide to get grab some food. We roll out and annihilate some burgers and tacos before heading back to fish the real jewel... a no fishing-access pond. The night before, I had prepared everything I would need. I packed my hiking backpack with my float tube and all the equipment as well as the clothing that I would be taking on an upcoming backpacking trip. I was going to see how difficult it would be to walk around with all of that weight.

With our backpacks on and our rods in our hands, we peek up from the bluff towards the large street in front of us. There is a break in the stream of cars. We make a sprint up the stairs and leap across the street. We get to the other side and quickly act inconspicuous. "Don't mind us... just two dudes walking down the street at 12:30 in the morning with backpacks and fishing rods" is the message I try to convey with my body language. We make our way towards the gate. We try to jog across the bridge, stopping to walk nonchalantly at every passing car. We get to the gate and the opening that allows us entrance. Rod, jump, rod, jump. Team Smoke on the Water is like a well oiled machined. The art of ninja fishing is now a science to us.

Soon we are inside. Though we are in the heart of urbanization, it is easy to forget all of that in here. We are surrounded by trees enveloped by darkness. The faint silouette of the towering skyline gives pause as the back of one's mind comtemplates the idea of entering the shadows. Owls hoot and small critters shuffle through the thickets. It is an ideal place for one's imagination to stage a coup. We enter a pathway in the trees. The starry sky ocassionally peeks out from above the thick canopy. On either side of us things continue to shuffle through the underbrush. We remain ever vigilant of unnatural sounds... the sounds of men.

We reach the water. We cautiously approach, listening for any hint of danger. No people. No helicopters. No trouble. We start to fish. FishTrick is the first to hook up. A little 3/4 lbr. A rat, but big enough to wipe the skunk off of us. I'm next to hook up. I am throwing a 4" Yamasenko (black + chart. fleck) wacky rigged with an O-ring. The bite is so light, I don't even know I have a bite until I lift the rod tip. A bit larger. About 1 lb. Another round of high fives.

2# Largemouth Bass caught by FishTrick

I give my line a test yank and with a quiet snap the line breaks. I walk around around the bend to get some light from a lamp. Seated on some steps I have my head down and am focused on tying a knot without adequate lighting. Suddenly, I hear a commotion and sounds of running coming towards me. I look up just in time to see a huge raccoon shoot a mere foot past my feet. It was over so fast I didn't even have a chance to react. I just sit there for a moment, looking up at the spot the raccoon flew by me. Then I take a breath and look back down to the knot I was in the middle of tying.

I wander back over to FishTrick. He says, "You missed it, bra!" "Oh no, bra, YOU missed it!" I reply. FishTrick proceeds to tell me about how he hooked up with a 2 lbr (which for this water is a dEEEEEEEEEcent serpent) and was walking over to show me, but was intercepted by two raccoons, one of which he ended up chasing away and is presumably the one that almost gave me rabies.



After a few more casts, I get a bite. I wind in and swing. Nothing. Hmmm... I make a few more casts to the same spot. Another bite. I wind in and swing. Nothing! I think, "He must just be a little guy." Another cast. This time I don't feel the bite. As I start to wind in slack, I notice my line is moving to the left. I wind in tight and swing. I hit meat! Ends up being about a pounder.

I lose my Senko and it takes me several minutes to rig on another. I make another cast. A light to the right catches my eye. A LIGHT?! It's a flashlight...

Check back soon for part two...

Flavor of the Month - Spotty Special

Three words. One name. All thriller. The Spotted Sand Bass (SSB), more popularly known in Long Beach as Spotted Bay Bass or just "Spotty." I have only recently gotten into Spotty fishing, but it has very quickly replaced Largemouth Bass (LMB) as my goto species.

Fishing for Spotties has many advantages:

1. It fills a special niche is that often overlooked. It lies right between freshwater bassfishing and big game salt water fishing. Because it is overlooked, it seems like it receives less pressure.
2. They seem to be more naive to the dangers of anglers. I can easily fish at El Dorado Park, throwing ever lure I have in my tackle box with every retrieve I can think of into every nook and cranny I can imagine and yet not produce a single bass. Yet, I can go target some spotties with one lure (a 1/4oz leadhead with 3" swimbait) and feel 80% confident I will get some action. With the addition of 2 other lures (a 1/4-3/4oz swim jig with a #3.5 - 5 blade trailer) and a 1/2-5/8oz spinnerbait, I will 95% confident that if there was a fish in an area that was willing to bite anything, I probably would have caught it on one of those lures. Even more to the point, there's a trend in Largemouth Bass fishing towards realism, which I think makes sense, yet with spotty fishing, I have no confidence qualms about the need for eyes on the jig head. In general, the fish just seem more aggressive and willing to bite first and sort through the details second (my kinda fish!)


3. This leads me to my next pro: Aggressiveness. When I caught my first spotty, I was sure I hooked up on a 4-5 lb fish, only to realize after the intense struggle, that it was a mere 12 incher! Spotties fight hard, period. Many would argue that they are pound for pound the most fightin'est bass around. I haven't had the privilege of catching every species of bass, but objectively, the spotty is looking like a damn-good contender.

4. If you know LMB fishing, you basically know spotty fishing. The way you dissect the marine bay is the same as if it were a freshwater body. Docks, cover, rocks. What do they have in common? They hold spotties. Hop a texas-rigged plastic worm through some eelgrass (seaweed). Slow roll a spinnerbait next to the rocks. Skip a swimbait under the docks and let the current gently drift it down. All ways of producing fish. If you like LMB fishing, you already like SSB fishing. You just get to catch more fish and harder fighting fish.

5. It's convenient. I love the outdoors and love a good hike as much as anyone, but the convenience of fishing within a short work of ones vehicle is surprisingly sweet. Without a long walk from my car to the water (e.g., parking outside El Dorado and walking in) I can start fishing more quickly and gain more overall time actually fishing. Often I could say that I fished for 3 hours, but that includes walking to and from the car. Having a 2 minute walk from my car gives me that much more actual fishing time, compared to a 20 minute walk. It also means I'd have to leave earlier as well. Double bummer.

It also has disadvantages:
1. Lack of access. Far and away the greatest difficulty in SSB fishing is access. There are just so few places to fish for them, especially in Long Beach. The places that spotties live are the property of others and they don't take kindly to strangers. Basically the City of Long Beach has effectively banned the fishing of spotties (from shore) through their restrictions on fishing.

2. Salt water is corrosive. A reoccuring theme is that saltwater is more extreme in general. Saltwater fish fight harder, saltwater waves are more dangerous, and saltwater is more damaging to your tackle than freshwater. Tackle needs extra mainenance, especially if they are not saltwater grade material. Reels require frequent cleaning to remove all moisture as well as relubricating. Your hands get a layer of salt that form on them giving them a dry chalky look and feel. The numerous cuts and scraps you undoubtedly acquired from your fishing burn from the salt. I also feel like the salt water hurts your line as it starts to absorb into the material. I've noticed a grimy feeling on my line after use in the saltwater.

I think the pros vastly outweigh the cons, even though the lack of access to spotty-holding water is a huge obstacle.

Now that we know what SSB fishing is all about, let's look at how to catch some. Having recently been through the In's and Out's of gaining that first bit of confidence, I can assure you that if you use these techniques and do it enough times, you will catch a spotty.

Rod: In all honesty, almost anything would work. Personally, I like a graphite baitcasting rod (spinning setups are just as popular) that's at least 7' long and rated medium-heavy with a fast-moderate to moderate tip action. The 7' length gives me distance to cast far and cover more water, while also giving good length for flipping lures to pilings. The moderate tip gives the whole rod a more parabolic bend which helps prevent the lure from being spit and helps launch those lighter lures. I prefer a medium-hvy power because it's soft enough to really bow when fighting even smaller guys, while being just stiff enough to control the fish when I'm bringing it in to land. The spotties have a tendency to bolt for the rocks and if you can't control the fish, it will cut you off on the sharp rocks. I like to fish rocks so keeping some minimal level of control is really necessary to maintain a satisfactory landing ratio. Sometimes, if I am fishing more open water (i.e., eelgrass) I will use a medium action which gets quite the bend when I hook up!

My favorite rod that I use for saltwater is a Falcon BuCoo Micro 7' Casting Rod; med-hvy, fast-mod action. It is very light weight and sensitivity and I love how it feels throwing 1/4-1/2oz lures. This is my goto rod and the one I will bring if I just carry one rod. If I carry two rods, I bring a Falcon BuCoo Micro 7' Casting Rod, med, mod action with a 1/4oz + 3" swimbait tied on and the Med-Hvy with a 1/2 oz bladed swim jig or spinnerbait ready. When I want to throw something bigger like a 3/4oz spinnerbait, I grap my Daiwa Jupiter 7'6" Flipping Stick; hvy, mod action. It's a light power flipping rod so it loads up nicely to cast heavier lures (3/4 - 1 1/2oz) and the extra length helps get a bit more distance. 

Falcon Bucoo Micro Guide Casting Rod 7' Med Hvy              Daiwa Jupiter 7'6" Heavy Flipping Rod

Reel and Line: I think you have even more flexibility with the reel. I use a Abu Garcia Pro Max with #8 P-Line FC (w/ Bucoo Med), a Lew's Laser MG spooled with 10# Vicious fluorocarbon (w/ Bucoo Med-Hvy), and a Abu Garcia Silver Max with 12# Invis X (w/ Jupiter). I have different brands spooled just to try them all out. All the reels have worked without any problems so far and I fish them pretty hard. The Laser MG and ProMax get approximately 25 hrs of use (split between them) in a week. The most important thing to remember is to rinse them after each use! If you don't, you will see where the saltwater has evaporated leaving a salty residue behind. This is really damaging to your tackle and will dramatically reduce it's life. If you really want to maximize the life of the reel, it is suggested that you break down and thoroughly clean and relubricate your reel as often as possible. If you're really worried you might even want to do it after every use. So far, I just give each reel a thorough blasting by a hose and dry. Then I re-grease my worm gear. I haven't had any reel problems so far.


Lew's Laser MG Speed Spool Casting Reel - LS1HMG


Abu Garcia Pro Max Casting Reel


Abu Garcia Silver Max Casting Reel


P-Line Ultimate Fluorocarbon Line


Vicious Fluorocarbon


Seaguar InvizX Fluorocarbon Line

In regards to braid, when I used to fish exclusively freshwater, braid was all I would use, but since starting to fish in saltwater, I have started to grow more fond of fluorocarbon. Mostly, because it feels like the braid absorbs the water quickly and really starts to hinder my long casts, which I do more of in saltwater fishing. Also, because fluorocarbon sinks, I feel like I get better depth control with my bottom contact lures (e.g., basically everything I throw at spotties). Lastly, it is because braid is suppose to be vulnerable to rocks which is the majority of what I am targeting when looking for spotties. I know plenty of people who fish with braid for spotties and I think for the most part, it is just as effective. However, for the reasons stated above, I prefer throwing fluorocarbon.

3" Big Hammer (Halloween) with 1/4oz Strike King Bitsy
 Jighead (skirt removed) for a more weedless presentation.

Lures: The swimbait, and especially the Big Hammer Swimbait Tail, is my goto lure. My favorite color is Halloween for almost all conditions, although I prefer it for darker light conditions (bright, but overcast days to straight night) and prefer a more "natural" color during bright light conditions (when you can see 2' into the water). During the bright, clear conditions, I feel more confident throwing a more translucent, harder to distinguish color such as Spottie Special.

Green back clear silver flake (top) is what I'd consider more
 subtle and Halloween (bottom) a more profile-able color.

The reason for this is that, in bright light conditions, the fish can really get a much better view of your lure. If your lure is more translucent it will be harder to detect fine details and instead will present itself as a blurry baitfish, rapidly escaping. I see Halloween as a darker more distinguished profile. This helps the fish visual lock-on during harder-to-see situations.
 

As for the leadhead, I use a variety. The classic Big Hammer heads are always a safe bet. The one thing I don't like about them is that due to the exposed hook, I find that I am constantly snagging up on things. If I am catching a lot of those leathery liquid pods, then I might strip the skirt off of a skirted bass jig and use the jighead with the Big Hammer trailer (like in the picture above). The thin brush weed guard is strong enough to deflect more snags, but soft enough to allow good hook sets. The problem is that this can get pricey as even with the brushguard, the lure gets stuck in rocks pretty often. The result is inevitably a break off and at two bucks each, the cost of spotty fishing can climb pretty quickly. Even the regular Big Hammer heads can run you about $1.50 per head for the 1/4oz size. My personal favorite leadhead is the use of Arkie brand Tube Insert 1/4oz leadheads. They are really do a good job of covering the bases. First, they are the right size 1/4oz. They also have a prominent trailer wedge that does a pretty good job of holding onto the trailer. The hooks are cheap, but it actually help prevent break offs because they can open just enough for the lure to slip loose. Don't worry though, they have been plenty strong for the fish as I have never lost a fish due to a hook opening up. The wire weedguard is also nice as it's just enough to prevent the majority of snag-ups while at the same time, being minimal enough to prevent fouled hook sets. Finally and most importantly, the price. At only 2 dollars for a package of 5, each jighead only comes out to forty cents! At a 1/3 of the price of a Big Hammer head, having a break off doesn't sting quite as much.

Due to the wire weedguard, the procedure to attach a swimbait trailer is a bit trickier. First you need to bend the wireguard all the way forward to get it out of the way.

Next align the hook next to the swimbait and note where the hook should exit the plastic when straight. I like to make a little poke with the hook tip where I should aim for it to exit.



Then do as you would for any trailer, being careful to maintain as much straightness as possible in the swimbait.

Once threaded as such, just bend the wireguard back into position and I personally like to give the tip a small bend to be flush with the hooktip. That will help prevent the wireguard from interferring with a hookset. Then you just have to tie on and you're ready to go. My knot of choice for fluorocarbon is the San Diego Jam knot with 7 twists. The color of the swimbait is Sexy Smelt.





Throwing a paddle-tail swimbait of some kind might be the most popular lure to use, but don't let that inhibit your creativity. I like to experiment with all sorts of different jighead and trailer combinations.






In bright weather, but dark water conditions, I may throw a swimbait body on a skirted jig as a swim jig. This is still a bit more subtle than a spinnerbait, but adds bulk providing a more robust profile.





If I want to increase the action a bit more, I'll replace the paddle tail swimbait with a 3" Kalins Salty Lunker Grubs. That curly tail really gives off a lot of action, which helps bass track better in lower light conditions.

Sometimes I will replace a swimming jig head with a ball head if I want the lure to fall straight down. This is particularly important when you are pitching to pilings and don't want the diagonal, spiraling fall of a darter head to get you are tangled up in the mussels and barnacles of the piling. The grub tail still produces a lot of action as it drops down.


The other lure I often throw is a spinnerbait. Generally I use a 1/2oz. So far color seems to have had very little influence on my bites. I feel most confident using white or chart/white. I like a tandem willow leaf blade with a 5 blade as the primary. In this particular incarnation, I've added an extra 3.5# willow leaf blade to the end of the spinnerbait for even more flash and vibration. I did this after a rainstorm to increase the lure's signature in especially dingy water. Also, you may notice that the skirt has been trimmed. I learned this trick for a Kevin Van Dam video. He trims the skirt to the length of the baitfish he's targeting as wall as the corner to produce a more natural, tear-drop shape when moving through the water. I'm not sure how crucial it is, but the spinnerbaits that I've done it to have been getting bit.

A lot of people also throw hardbaits, most noteably crankbaits, but I have not had much luck. I concentrate on structure and I have a lot of trouble getting the crankbait down to the strike zone. I will continue to work on expanding my repetoire so I will come back to hardbaits in another post.

Where\How to Fish: I am a shore fisherman, which is a big hinderance to accessing the "primest" spotty spots, however, I would suspect that most new spotty fishers are as well. That means you're in luck as I will let you in on the various spots that I have found that produce fish from the bank.

1. My number one target areas are rocks. If there are rocks in a harbor, there will be spotties on them at some point. The best situation is to be opposite of the rocks and fan cast to them, slowly working them back. Be warned... rocks are where lures go to die. I have lost countless lures on the rocks. The trick is to learn how to stay just above them. It really only comes with experience, but eventually you will learn the feel of your lure and get a better sense of its depth. Casting to the rocks and working your lure out significantly reduces break offs. The problem is that lures get wedged between rocks, so when you're working them from the top down, it's much more likely the lure lands harmlessly on top of the rock.

Top view (Fig 1.1)

Some people would fan cast at this point, but I prefer to cast diagonally to maximize rock coverage. Instead of facing the rocks and casting to my 10 o'clock, then 11 o'clock, then 12 o'clock, etc, I would face the rocks, cast to my 10, then 11, then take a step to my 9 and recast to my 10. That way I constantly move up and down, casting diagonally, maximizing the amount of rock face I pass. I feel that the casts directly to the rock to my twelve is not efficient because of the small amount of target zone I cover directly in front of me.

Side view (Fig 1.2)

The easiest technique, in my opinion, is the constant, slow-roll. When I say slow-roll, I mean as slow as possible without snagging on the bottom. That could mean keeping it completely off the bottom, hovering over the rocks and eelgrass (which I recommend for newbies) or slightly slow enough to tap bottom structure (ideal). I imagine the lure moving about 2-3 inches a second.


In the diagram to the left, I show a nice cast right up against the rocks. I drop my rod tip when the lure hits the water, to minimize splash as well as to let the lure drop naturally. Usually, depending on how close I am to the rocks, I will let the lure bounce off a rock, but if you're just starting out, I would recommend winding in immediately. This is where a lot of break offs happen. As you wind in slowly, you might bump into a few rocks, because the rocks are uneven. This is when a lot of strikes will occur (as indicated by the top red X). Another likely strike zone, is the drop off as the rocks transition to mud bottom. As it transitions, there will be gaps in the rocks that the spotties love to just sit and ambush from (the middle X). Finally as you swim the lure out over the sea floor, there will probably be some eelgrass which the spotties will be hiding inside of and will dart up to grab your lure (the bottom X).

Top view (Fig 2.1)

As I was saying earlier, it will be easier to not get hung up if you slow-roll above everything, but truth be told, spotties relate to the bottom, so the closer you are to the structure and cover, the more likely the spotty will be willing to charge out and smash your swimbait!

If you are fishing from on top of the rocks, things will be a bit more difficult. You will have to try to parallel the rocks. This is the most difficult technique to do and not constantly break off. I usually try to cast using the same strategy as above, except I will stand as close as I can to the water and cast out to my nine o'clock. Then as I work it back, I extend my rod arm out as far as I can in order to keep the lure parallel. Also, I minimize any contact with the rocks to avoid snagging. When you do get snagged (and you will) there are two things I try to do to get un-snagged. First, DO NOT PULL!!! If you did slip in-between two rocks, if you pull, you will wedge that lure in making it unlikely that you will recover it. I try to give the lure light pressure in order to keep it in place and not slide into some crevasse. Then I walk past the lure and try to gently work it out the way it came in. If that doesn't work, I will use the bow-snap trick. Point your rod directly at the lure. Wind in so that you have some slack in the line (about 1 ft). Then, with your free hand grab your line and pull to the side (like a flip-cast) until the line is taut. Then quickly release the line, which should snap back. The idea is that the snap loosens the lure and hopefully shakes it free.

One more thing to keep in mind when fishing off the rocks. Once you get a bite and are working the fish back in, remember that the fish will try to wedge itself into any viable cover it can, including all the rocks next to you. Keep pressure on the fish to keep him away from the rocks and if it does find a hole, don't over-work him out. The rocks will quickly cut your line if it rubs against them. I usually give the fish some slight slack and make my way towards the little devil. Also, check you line and RETIE often!

My second favorite type of area to fish is the flat floor just beyond the rocks, that are hopefully covered with eelgrass beds. I had a hard time imagine that it all looked like at first, so here'a picture.

Notice how there are open patches within the bed. That's where the spotties lie in wait. Now the technique that I explained above for fishing the rocks on the opposite bank is especially productive because it targets fish both hanging on the rocks and in the eelgrass. As shown in

Top view (Fig 1.3)

Figure 1.2, once the swimbait passes the rocks, it enters the eelgrass beds. At other times, when the fish seem to be relating to the grass more than the rocks, I will do my diagonal casts, but aim for maximum distance into the middle of the channel. When fishing the eelgrass beds, I use two retrieves. Again, the constant slow-roll is deadly effective. Especially when the swimbait just barely ticks the tops of the grass and any random structure out there. My personal favorite retrieve is what I call the hop-swim. The retrieve is similar to how you might fish a soft plastic while targetting freshwater bass. If the grass is sparse and I am not grabbing handfuls of it, I will just have my rod pointing horizontally and give two quick turns of my handle (with a 6.4 gear ratio and a 7.1). This makes the lure dart forward and then drift back to the bottom. The whole time I am watching my line. As soon as the line goes slack (after a second or two, indicating that the lure hit the bottom) and give it another two winds before letting it fall again. I continue this all the way back. Most bites come right after the fall. If I am catching a lot of grass, I will do a similar retrieve except instead of winding in to move the lure, I hop it off the bottom like a worm. I pop the rod tip about 1 to 2 ft and wind in slack as the lure drops. Sometimes, if the bite is slow, I will let the lure sit on the bottom for a few (3-5) seconds between hops. Again, bites seem to come right after the drop.

When I am explaining these methods, I mostly have the swimbait in mind, but I have also done with with spinnerbaits with success. Generally though, I reserve the hop-swim for soft plastics and primarily slow-roll the spinnerbait. One more technique I use, more so with spinnerbaits than swimbaits because they're heavier and stay low, is to give the rod a little twitch or jerk as I slow-roll it along the bottom. Sometimes, I'll just give a little, quick 1/4 turn to make the lure dart and flutter for a second. That erratic action can sometimes really trigger a fish to react on your lure.

Top view (Fig 3.1)

My third favorite area that I catch spotties are bridges. More specifically the pilings of the bridge. I try to position myself on the side of the bridge that the current is flowing towards. I cast as fast as I can under the bridge beyond the pilings. Then I lower my rod tip and try to maintain controlled slack, winding in when there's too much bow in my line. With a decent current, the lure drifts down and to the side with the current. Try to time it so that as the lure drifts past a piling it is making contact with the bottom as the fish will be facing the piling, looking up current, waiting to ambush hapless baitfish struggling in the current. You want your lure to imitate one of these baitfish.

In addition to the pilings, bridges often have rock structure and eelgrass beds lining the floor. Fish these with the techniques noted above. Standard fan casting can be very productive in these situations.

Top view (Fig 4.1)

Lastly, there are the docks. Boat slips offer excellent habitat for spotties. What's especially nice about docks is that they are often in very close proximity to both rocks and eelgrass and often even bridges! Talk about fertile fields! Fishing docks is basically an amalgation of all the previous methods discussed. Two not mentioned techniques are "flippin'" and under-drift.


Flippin' is a very popular technique in freshwater fishing. The basic idea is a short, accurate and most importantly, quick underhand cast to a specific target. Flippin' can be broken down further into two techniques; true flipping and pitching. I won't go into detail, but flipping is generally limited to close targets about 5 - 10' away, while pitching is ideal for targets 10 - 25 ft away. I will be referring to true flipping. This involves pulling out an arms length of line from the spool before engaging it and locking the line. Now the only line that will be utilized will be the length in your hand. The total amount of line from the spool to the lure should be about 15 ft, with about 5 ft hanging from your rod tip and the rest controlled by your arm length. Then using your rod tip you pendulum your lure towards your target while simultaneous feeding line with your other hand. Most often people have their rod in their right hand and hand the line with the left (even if they are using right-hand retrieve reels). It seems easy enough, but takes a bit of time to perfect. You have to train your two arms to coordinate with each other. Anyway, this techniques makes covering close strike zones very efficient. You can walk down a dock and quickly make a flip to each side of a piling before moving on to the next.

Top view (Fig. 4.2)

You can see in Fig. 4.2, the spots to target, in the order that I feel is most productive. You can see Mr. Spotty just lying downstream of the piling waiting to pounce on any food that drifts by.

Now flippin' is one technique where I use a different kind of lure. I like to flip with skirted football jig with any sort of craw trailer. I also use a round ballhead jig with a single-tail grub trailer, as mentioned earlier. Mostly, it's the shape of the head that's important. You can flip with anything really, swimbait, spinnerbait, etc., but why I prefer round headed jigs is that they fall straight down. That way you can really get your lure up tight to a piling and hopefully hit that bass right in the nose to get him to react. If you flip with, lets say a swimbait, the elongated shape of the head causes the lure to drift a bit (fall diagonally, instead of vertically). Also it can spiral. These actions are generally great, but when you're hugging the piling, the extra distance that the lure moves often gets it snagged up on mussels, barnacles, and seaweed that cover the piling.

1/4 Bass Patrol Football Jig -
(brown) with a YUM Papi Craw trailer
(peanut butter and jelly) -
imitating a shore crab

Drifting... no you don't need to be Japanese and own a sweet set of wheels to drift. This kind of drifting is a way to target fish that are suspending underneath the docks. Looking back at Fig. 4.1, you can see that on the far left-hand side, I drew a cast-line with 3 arrows. Each arrow indicates a splashpoint for your lure and where you could find suspending fish. In order to do this you need to have a fair strong current. Something that could push your 1/4oz swimbait about 4-5 feet under the dock. This method is similar to the bridge drifting, but in reverse. You want to keep controlled slack while feeding line. I will keep feeding line, giving the lure a little pop once in a while for it to recatch some current. Once the lure is on the bottom, I just wind it back using different retrieves.

You can also see the various cast-lines I drew towards the right-hand piling. The same principles apply, however, be careful when drift on the outside of the piling. You can easily snag or be cut off rubbing up against the piling as the current takes line.

So there you have it. A detailed explanation of how you can go out and catch your very own Spotted Sand Bass. One more word of warning. When I mentioned the restrictions that make spotty fishing so difficult in Long Beach, I am serious. Most (if not all) good spotty spots that are accessible from shore are in fact "inaccessible." The City of Long Beach has restrictions on the entire marina prohibiting fishing from shore. If you are spotted by the Marina Police, you can be ticketed. I think that generally, if you are not being a knucklehead, they will just tell you to scram, but just to repeat myself, you can be TICKETED with a MISDEMEANOR making you officially a CRIMINAL. Stay smart and don't get to cocky.

That being said, I would like to elicit a promise from anyone who uses what I wrote to catch a fish.

TAKE CARE OF THE ENVIRONMENT!

It makes me sick to see all the trash, fishing line, and used bait that just litter my favorite fishing holes. It is people like that who create the need for restrictions in the first place, hurting everyone else. Don't be selfish. Throw away your trash. Stuff used line into your pockets and toss it later. You only hurt yourself when you trash your own treasure. Each fish is a privilege from the Fish Gods. Don't spoil it by destroying their homes and in essense your own gift. Also, no-brainer, but practice Catch-and-Release. Give someone else the joy of catching that same fish, in the way I want to give you the honor. Take a picture, give 'em a kiss, and let 'er go! Besides, you probably are ingesting a lot of pollutants from the water. An easy way to remember how to act:

RESPECT OTHERS AND THE LAND AROUND YOU.

If you have any questions or would like to add some tips/ideas of your own feel free to comment! I sincerely hope you find luck and enjoy yourself as much as I have catching this beautiful, magnificent fish.

CHEERS and TIGHT LINES,
Szerpent Hunter