Breakwall Darryl hasn’t been opaleye fishing with me for a while. He called to make plans for Sunday on Thursday, which was before the weather turned weird. As late as Saturday afternoon he was ready to shine it due to light precipitation and gusty winds. A phone call to me this morning at five and a quick peek outside my front door revealed at least the wind was gone. A right turn at 25^th St. in San Pedro saw flags flowing, but not bad enough to turn us around.

All the while the two of us were wondering where we were going to park. Darryl suggested the cul-de-sac we used last month. From there we have to walk about a half-mile through the Marineland lot and up and over a razor wire covered chain link fence to reach the beach. Then on the walk back, the rent-a-cops who watch the property would likely wonder where we’re going and where we’ve been.

Even though there’s a spot to climb over the fence without being slashed to bits, I just didn’t feel like it, nor was I in the mood to explain myself to any quasi-authority figure. We went with parking at the usual Opaleye Point curbside and walking along the cove and over the dreaded hump to access the famous pillar rock at Long Point. On the way we passed all the spots where historically The Breakwall Angler crew has had much success, but as reported the past two months, they’re not even worth trying anymore due to a chronic lack of action.

With only a half-scoop of enteromorpha for bait, the walk wasn’t bad. It was what we saw when we got there that was God awful. It was three-and-a-half hours before a six-foot high tide and already the stepping stone rocks leading to the main staging rock were under enough water to be unusable. Not only that, but there was an occasional rogue wave washing clean over the top of the big rock like it was nothin’.

All the way from Opaleye Point, the Marineland Ledge, over the hump and to about fifty yards before the tip of Long Point, the water was calm as was the breeze. However, standing there away from the tall bluffs, watching the waves pound our intended spot, a cold nasty wind was kicking up an occasional whitecap. It was definitely rain suit weather.

So, after I covered up and battened down, I stepped out to a shoreline rock to the left of the pillar and proceeded to catch the day’s first opaleye, a fat one-and-a-half pounder. Slickerless Darryl was next. He climbed atop a taller rock and was splashed first thing. Not a pleasant feeling before sunrise in fifty-degree windy weather. Nonetheless, he caught the second opaleye of the day about thirty seconds after casting. Today, these fish weren’t messing around. We didn’t really have any nibbles. Each time a hit was registered the bobber completely disappeared under water, only to be seen again when the fish was near the net. We wish it could always be this way. We caught eight keepers between us the first half-hour we were there, with several other little guys thrown back. All the action was in the rough water a mere ten-foot cast away. A pair by Darryl were over two pounds.

I thought, great. It’s going to be an early day. I can get home by nine-thirty with my ten fish, have’em filleted by eleven, and be back in bed for a three-hour nap before I wander off to my Sunday second shift job.

Well, as nature would have it, our angling success attracted the attention of a big ugly sea lion. So much for the bite at that spot. After ten minutes with no bobber activity, I walked the short distance to fish the small rip current to the right of the staging rock and had instant success. In the next twenty minutes, I caught five more opaleye with the two biggest added to the sack.

I turned around and saw Darryl watching me. He hadn’t caught anything at our first spot in over fifteen minutes. In that amount of time, the pesky wind that greeted us early on had turned into a full-on gale. The whole ocean in front of us was covered with huge whitecaps. I tried to cast, but the gusts were so powerful that three splitshots crimped to the line wouldn’t allow the baited hook to sink. In seeing that, ol’ Darryldog was on his merry way back over the dreaded hump to fish the Marineland ledge, where normally conditions are windless and warm.

I fished Long Point for another fifteen minutes or so, enough to catch two more opaleye not large enough to meet my criteria of having to be bigger than the two smallest fish already in the bag. They were released for another day.

The wind was increasing, so off to the ledge to join my pal I went. As soon as I made it over the dreaded hump, it was like I just hiked from Mt. San Jacinto down to Palm Springs. It was downright hot over there. I couldn’t remove my rainsuit and parka fast enough. The high bluff blocks the wind, and the glare off the water from the eight-thirty sun made it downright balmy.

I started out by flipping a five-inch Fish Trap out to some of the reachable kelp strands in case there was a hungry bass hanging out. Twenty-or-so casts with that set-up decided there wasn't, so out came the enteromorpha rig on which I counted ten bites from little guys in the thirty minutes we were there. In that time, I watched Darryl land six more opaleye, again none big enough to replace anything in the bag of ten destined for my freezer.

Top