After seeing the picture of the two big ones I caught two weeks ago, Breakwall Dan wanted to bring his renewed interest in fishing and our pal Breakwall Steve down to the rocks of Palos Verdes to fling Fish Traps and enteromorpha in hopes of something like that might happen to them.

There they were, at the house at four thirty, right on time, all bright-eyed and smiley-faced with anticipation.

It was still fairly dark as we descended the trail, where at the bottom we saw the tide was not low enough to access the platform rock at Opaleye Point. To the right we hoofed, making our first stop at the small beach in the middle of the cove. I tried a five-inch blacksmith perch patter Fish Trap for two casts but deemed the spot too shallow, weedy and rocky to be productive.

As they readied their rods by tying on enteromorpha bobber rigs and Fish Traps, I marched on...to a spot in the cove almost to the Marineland Ledge. There, on the first cast next to the ever-present half-acre of kelp, I hollered, "HOOK-UP!" In came a thirteen-inch barred sand bass, one inch longer than the legal twelve. Into the bag it went to start our collection of fish tacos for day's end.

A few casts later, while the two were still over there fartin' with their equipment, I hooked up again. This time there was a calico bass of similar proportions being slid into the sack.

Minutes later I saw they were on their way to join me when once more I set the hook on a fish. This time it was an eleven-inch calico that was tossed back. One more fan-cast to the right and bingo, another eleven-incher held up for display before being returned to the water.

I took a moment's break so I could guide my clients to success. I basically said to cast here and there to dodge the obvious submerged obstacles and to reel in faster than normal to avoid loosing their Fish Traps. With the Fishco heads (complete with eyeballs) the darn things will run you three bucks apiece.

After I saw they mastered the technique, I joined in the fun. Actually it wasn't much of a gas because another half-hour of casting the area resulted in only Steve claiming to feel another bite.

Up and over the dreaded hump to the end of the nearby Cave Rock we went. I explained that last month I hooked a legal white seabass here and that I would show them where to cast, which is in the gap between kelp strands to the left of the rock. I watched and guided for a while then started my own campaign for a big one. While they had at it to the left, I cast to the right, into the cove.

It didn't take long to realize that not much was going on at this spot. Soon I too was casting to the left and after about ten casts I finally hooked a calico bass of fourteen inches. So far our post-trip party would consist of two tacos each.

After an hour or so of not hooking up we continued on to Long Point to fish the pillar rock with enteromorpha for opaleye. Keeping with tradition, I started that spot with the Fish Trap to make sure there weren't any bass around. I was right. There weren't.

From a distance I could see that here at Long Point was the only patch of the opaleye's favorite whitewater in the area thanks to extremely calm, windless conditions. The three of us tried different spots near the pillar after chumming well but nothing was happening to our bobbers. That was until mine went down after a cast way to the left of the rock on the outside of the froth. Sure enough a fat opaleye of three tacos was bounced upon our perch.

We fished that hole and more or less all around the point thinking if there's one there's a bunch of opaleye hanging around but our thunk was nothing but a lot of funk. Another biteless hour passed before we realized our efforts here were pointless.

On the way back to the bottom of the trail, the tide was low enough that we could easily access the platform rock at Opaleye Point. Naturally I tried the Fish Trap first. Nothing. Then we chummed some enteromorpha and tried for opaleye for a while. Again, nothing. There was one more rock to try about a hundred yards to the left — the spot where I caught the aforementioned big guys — but nobody was into it anymore, so we went home.

Meanwhile, at the taco party, as I was frying up those fresh and tasty breaded fish filets, I explained, upon it being requested of me, how exactly to fix a Dufish fish taco. Well, I said, you lay the flour tortilla down on the plate, layer the corn tortilla upon that, plop the hot and crispy filet atop that, sprinkle it with shredded cheese so it melts over the fish, cover the cheese with a dose of Frank's Red Hot, scatter some chopped lettuce somewhat evenly over that, then top it off with a few dabs of jarred salsa.

First I served them two bass tacos each, watching over them with unwavering vigilance to make sure they did it right. I was proud of them that I didn't have to bitch once about their newly learned taco building skills.

When it was my turn to sit down, all eyes were upon me as I carefully assembled the pieces to presumed perfection. Golly darn they caught me putting the lettuce on before the Red Hot. They really let me have it. I was busted.

Then again, I caught all the fish.

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