I was confabulating with the new guy at the shop last month. Turned out we had a little something in common. He's an opaleye fan. Looking ahead at the tide chart, I saw the perfect time to guide him to the platform rock at Opaleye Point with a bucket of enteromorpha would be the early morning low tide of Monday, August 24.

When the day came, it was unfortunate for him that his hours were changed, forcing him to drive all the way to Palos Verdes from West Los Angeles after work. The main problem with that was the time of the low tide. It was at 5:15. That meant fishing an incoming tide in which we wouldn't have much time to spend on the rock before having to flee to higher ground. What you really want to do is plan it so a tide of 1.5 or less is at 07:30 or thereabouts so wading back to shore isn't a must. This happens March through June. We take our chances in July and August.

Knowing the bass are active in the hour before dawn, I started fishing at 5:45 with a blacksmith perch pattern five-inch Fish Trap on a three-eighths ounce leadhead tied to my seventeen-pound baitcasting outfit. Fan casting here and there from the platform, I noticed in the increasing light the patch of kelp, which had been absent most of this year, was returning to its historic plot about ten feet away. This made it a little tougher to use the plastic. I had to aim it just right so it would slip through the strands for another toss. No biggie. On about the fifteenth cast I reeled in a nice one-and-a-half pound legal calico worth three tacos.

At 6:30, after several more throws of the Fish Trap, I switched over to my ten-pound spinning outfit rigged with the enteromorpha set-up. After chumming a muddy chunk of the algae into the water, my bobber was in the zone and ready for action. It took a while, but soon I was reeling in a decent three-taco opaleye.

In general, the fish didn't seem as edacious as I have experienced in the past, but nonetheless I did manage to catch three more opaleye in the three-taco class before 7:15. I had ten times more nibbles, as indicated by a wiggling bobber, but not many were sticking to the point. They were likely little guys.

As I watched my red floater bob up and down in the wind chop, I heard a whistle from atop the bluff. It was the arrival of Breakwall Don who had rushed over through traffic down Hawthorne Boulevard to join me. He didn't see exactly where the trail down to the beach started, so I dropped everything to hike back up and show him.

By this time the tide had water covering the rocks we use as stepping stones to gain access to the platform. As I took his gear and hopped out, I mentioned that we would have only about an hour to fish before having to get the hell out. That was fine for him, his main mission for the day was to come to the storied hole to verify that opaleye actually do eat algae. You see, he is a big mussel fan. Mussel is okay, but everything that swims eats it and I am after only one thing: opaleye tacos.

I set him up with the usual rig of a red-painted cast-a-bubble, #2 split shot and #1 live bait hook, then demonstrated how to twist a strand of bait around the hook. Wouldn't you know it, as soon as he gets there, the bite stops. We were aboard the platform for another hour or so and not one other bite was had by either of us.

Lacking confidence in enteromorpha, Don switched over to using mussel with a #6 baitholder. Smallish specimens of the mollusks were growing right there on the platform. "Look, I'm getting lots of bites with the mussel," he exclaimed with renewed enthusiasm. Watching this I could tell it was sardines tugging his line.

Keeping a vigil on our rising tide, I proclaimed it was due time we scampered back to shore. The two-to-three-foot swell didn't help our cause any either. We were both pretty soaked from standing on the rock, then we had to wade up to our knees to get back.

Next stop was over to the Marineland ledge. We fished there for a little over an hour with myself noticing two or three bites on enteromorpha, and Don receiving a few more than that from whatever bait-stealing mussel-munchers were around. At that point, I felt rather grateful for the five fish I did catch. And there was still a half-bucket of enteromorpha for the next morning's window of opportunity.

*****

Anyone who follows the tides will know that each day the low or high is forty or so minutes later than the day before. However there is a compromise. It's might be later, but it isn't as low. Albeit, I still had proper access to the rock.

Like the day before, Tuesday I started fishing the platform at 5:30 with the Fish Trap. The weather improved too. Instead of wind, chop and swells, there was flat calm glass. On my fifth cast into the dark, I had a hit. As I reared back to set the hook, it started to pull line from the reel's tightened drag. I could tell after the fish's short burst of a run that it was a calico of considerable size. Five minutes later, after directing it through the kelp strands and away from the jagged submerged rocks, I had it to color. It still had some fight left, so I let it swim back and forth in front of me before scooping it up with the net. I hauled it back to the staging rock to get a good look at it. It was definitely big, at first glance looking to be five pounds. I hung it on the Normark scale, which read four pounds eight ounces. Yeah baby.

Quite happy with that, I reinstalled a fresh Fish Trap to the leadhead and retied. Three casts later, I hooked another one. This time I knew it wasn't a calico because whatever it was peeled line from the reel non-stop for a minute and a half! My first guess was that it was a yellowtail. Recent daily dock totals have shown a large influx of these members of the jack family all up and down the coast.

Then it stopped and I began to gain on it somewhat. Right there I knew it wasn't a yellowtail because if it were, it would have kept pulling line for another two minutes. Then I thought, could it be? Is it really that huge white seabass that I have never caught? I know they're around. Two months ago I caught a five-pounder right here. Basically they have to be twenty-eight inches long to be legal. That would come in at about eight pounds.

I made progress on it in five cranks of the reel before again the fish tore out for over a minute before stopping. In the darkness I couldn't tell where it was heading. A quick glance at the reel showed that over half of the line had been discharged from the spool.

When again it stopped, I made a little more progress on it as I cranked the reel and pumped the rod ten times. Once more it made a thirty-second uncontrollable run to the left. It would have been nice to follow it over there, but at the platform you're stuck. There is no moving around.

All the while I'm thinking how the hell am I going to get this thing through the kelp and rocks without it busting off? I didn't have much time to plan it out, because after fifteen minutes of hanging on for dear life it was at last coming in…slowly. I was kind of surprised to see it come to color without having to free it from the kelp. It didn't even purposefully aim itself for the rocks either. It wasn't like the thing didn't have the chance. A good yellowtail would have severed the line by now.

Twenty minutes into the battle, It came to color. Holy Christ! I couldn't believe it! It really was that mythical huge white seabass caught from shore like I've been reading about for the past twenty years! And it was gigantic! As it swam back and forth in front of me, quite tuckered from the fight, the next battle began. How the hell was I going to get it in? I was quite unprepared to land such a monster. The net I carry is large, but too small for this thing. I couldn't reach into its mouth to grab it because whites have rows of long, sharp, jagged teeth.

I tried to jump back to the staging rock so I could use the next small wave to help push it up onto the rock. Bad idea. As it came in it started to go crazy and I had to jump right back to the platform and let it take out line. That really would've pissed me off to have fought it for so long just to have it break off while trying to land it.

There was only one thing to do. Hold the rod with my right hand, and try to get it into the net with the other. When I dipped the mesh in the water, it was obvious I was going to have a hard time. On the fifth attempt I finally managed to get the fish's head in there, but then only half its body would fit. The next problem was how to get the net out of the water. When I tried to lift it, the aluminum handle about broke in half.

I ended up having to set the rod on the rock, grasp the net's rim with my other hand and lift the whole thing straight out of the water. What a relief! I did it! He's mine!

I grabbed my rod and hustled that and the netted fish back to the staging rock. I put my hand up its gills and slid it out. Oh my God! I was still in denial! I absolutely could not believe I landed such a behemoth. I must have just stood there and stared for five minutes before I broke out the scale. It was forty inches long and weighed in at fifteen pounds nine ounces.

But I was wasting time. It was already six-thirty and getting light. I retied, pinned on another Fish Trap and went back at it. As I faced the water, I saw what was going on. There was a massive school of two-to-three-inch sardines hanging out right in front of the platform to about a hundred feet out. I could see the backs of white seabass coming out of the water as they gulped their prey. I thought I died and went to heaven.

No kidding. Three casts later I was on again. This time I knew it wasn't as big because the powerful runs in the fish before weren't in him. It was still kind of a struggle, but with not as much vigor. That's okay. My arms were actually half worn out by the monster. Ten minutes later I had another legal white seabass, weighing in at nine pounds eight ounces. About half the size of the one before, it was two inches over the twenty-eight minimum. And that was a quantity limit too. We're only allowed to keep two whites around these parts.

Even though it was past sunrise, I could still see an occasional spraying of sardines by predators. Another few casts with a fresh Fish Trap and I was on to another white seabass. This one came right in as it was only about eighteen inches long. I happily tossed it back. My goodness. That was three whites in one day. Heck, in one hour!

I made some more casts with the Fish Trap, but before long, daylight was too much for whitey and he was gone. Only the sardines remained.

You would think with three huge basses in the bag that I would be satisfied. Nope. I whipped out the ten-pound outfit to finish off that bucket of enteromorpha. The bite for opaleye was a little better than yesterday. Before the bite stopped I bagged six of them that weighed over a pound.

As I packed up my gear for the hike up, I thought how the hell am I going to get all these damn fish up the hill? I ended up having to carry the two big whites up first, then come back down for the rest of the stuff. That was the first time I ever had to make two trips because I had too many fish. I loved every minute of it. The several dog walkers atop the bluff congratulated me on my "trophy".

Wow. I was there for only two hours and caught all them fish. I definitely needed a picture of all this, or at least, the two big seabass. I have lots of calico and opaleye photos. Since my camera was in the shop after having its case cracked during last week's San Felipe run, I had to stop at the San Pedro Vons to buy one of those cheeseoid throw-away Kodak things. Thanks to Ryan at the Busy Bee market for snapping the shot.

*****

How much contemplation do you think I sorted through in my decision to return for a third day? Right. None.

Wednesday, as I made my way down the Opaleye Point trail in hopes of more seabass action. I noticed the swells were back. Only this time they were up to four feet. Not good. Be that as it may, I still made some pre-dawn casts with the Fish Trap. On my fifth cast I hooked up. As I raised the rod to set the hook, I cranked the reel as fast as I could. The fish reciprocated by pulling line from the buttoned-down drag just as fast as it could. Only this time it didn't keep going. By that I knew it was another calico. When I netted it I saw it was just as big as the one I caught the day before. After I hung it on the scale, it read four pounds twelve ounces, four ounces larger than yesterday's. Damn I'm good.

Well, maybe not that good. I used the Fish Trap until about 6:30 before switching over to enteromorpha. I used enteromorpha for an hour without a bite. Then the waves grew larger and I was soaked from head to foot. Back to bed I went.

*****

There you have it. Quite the good three days at Opaleye Point. I ended up with two big white sea bass at 15-9 and 9-8, three calicos at 1-8, 4-8, and 4-12, and ten opaleye to 1-8. So what did I do with all this meat? I immediately ate the 4-8 calico for lunch, I traded the 9-8 white for several sandwiches of my choice from the sandwich shop anytime I want them, I froze the opaleye and the other calicos in two taco increments, and I baked, smoked, and made ceviche out of the monster white.

Baking it with spices was just okay, but smoking it was great. I did it in my Weber portable charcoal grill and used mountain mahogany chunks for the smoke. It wouldn't have turned out very well in the electric smoker. The ceviche was great too. I made my own salsa from fresh squished tomatoes, onions from the High Sierra, fried yellow chilies and fresh cilantro. Everyone loved it, and I was more than happy to share.

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