My old pal Breakwall Christine called the other day. Said she wanted to go fishing after driving by Marine Stadium and seeing enteromorpha growing there. I was unavailable at the time, so later in the week I phoned to make arrangements for this morning at Long Point. Meanwhile last week she tried near Abalone Cove, but rough waves pounding the spot where the Portuguese Bend Landslide continually enters the water were pumping a plume of light-tan silt into a south-flowing current, wiping out any piscatorial activity along the rocks of Portuguese Point.

Today I met her and her pal Brad at the trailhead to fish Opaleye Point to see if we could avoid the hike to Long Point. Fully rigged upon arrival, I fished for a half-hour and actually had a few bites before those other two even had their hooks tied. At one point, the dude went back up the trail, never to be seen again. I was standing there casting, thinking, what kind of fishermen are these people anyway.

A little later the chick wants to go back up the trail looking for him. By that time, the bite waned and it was late enough to be legal to park at the Marineland lot. So, back up the trail we went to see if Rad Brad was anywhere around. After pondering his disappearance, we took bets as to what happened to him. I said a dollar has him falling off the trail, lying with a broken neck on some rocks we couldn't see from the fishing hole. She wagered he went for a walk and was picked up by the fuzz for something.

We left her car at curbside and went driving around the neighborhood in mine. We even drove over to the Interpretive Center to use the phone to notify relatives of our location in case of I don't know what. On the way back to her car, we spotted him hiking down the middle of the road. She won the bet. He had to go really bad, so he hiked the nearly one mile to the nearest head at the Point Vicente Fishing Access. On the way back, a patrolling Sheriff Deputy detained him for twenty minutes.

We regrouped at Marineland. I was on the rock at Long Point and fishing for a twenty minutes before they were even in sight. The head start didn't do me much good because I only had about three bites with zero hook-ups by the time they came, then for a half hour after that I nailed five nice opaleye to three-and-a-half tacos casting to the left from the pillar rock. Two weeks ago, I caught everything to the right from the staging rock.

Even though I was having success, my pals remained on the staging rock. The water was mostly calm, but the occasional four-foot breaker was coming over the top of where I was. Several times I had to duck behind the pillar to avoid getting soaked.

The hour between eleven and noon produced maybe one nibble and no hook-ups. Since Opaleye Point hasn't produced anything for getting there early and Long Point fills my gunnysack after the eight o'clock parking lot opening, I just might be getting up late next time and head to the latter spot first.

Top