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...