With near‑shore water temperatures hovering around sixty‑eight degrees, the conditions are more friendly to yellow fins not opal eyes.  The season for the latter generally starts near the end of October when the waters cool somewhat.  However a September morning incoming tide will rile ‘em up now and then.  And there’s always the chance at a calico before light.

    A little after two this morning, just for funzies on the way to the fish hole, I stopped by the usual slime pit for enteromorpha but found none.  The next best green bait for opaleye is peas.  The nice lady at the twenty‑four‑hour Albertsons near 25^th and Western in San Pedro knew wazup.  When I laid the bag on the counter she asked me if I was going fishing.  I said it must be a habit around here.  She said yup.

    Down the Opaleye Point trail this morning at three‑thirty, I found myself precariously scaling the Dreaded Hump in an attempt to reach Long Point.  From there I wanted to cast the Fish Trap all the way back to Opaleye point, having covered a good half‑mile of crannies with the lure before using bait during high tide at eight‑forty.  But Dang, I was cut off.  Once I made it over the hump and was ready to jump down to the pebbly beach, all those rounded rocks were gone.  I wondered where they went.  They’ve been there for thirty years.  It would have been a leg‑breaker if I were to jump down.  It was a shear twelve feet with no places I could see with my headlight to steady a boot.  It must have been the south swell pounding the shore the past two weeks that washed them all away.

    Well, the next best place while I was there was back over the hump to fish The Plank.  It’s tricky casting because of the thick kelp growing there.  On the other fin, that’s where our game lies in wait for prey.  Thanks to the lights from the condos atop the bluff I could see where the major kelp strands were located by their floating tips.  I would cast the Fish Trap between them, not letting it sink for more than five seconds.  I reeled with a jerky motion as slow as I could to keep the lure from snagging, which was rather fast.  BAM, hook‑up.  A nice three‑taco pound‑and‑a‑half calico was dropped in the bag without much resistance using the twenty‑pound bait‑caster outfit.

    I cast into only five more open spots in the kelp before I hooked up again next to the Cave Rock.  This one felt extra beefy as it pulled and yanked with very much intensity.  At one point it tangled itself in one or more kelp strands with me having to wait about a minute before the fish would again take out my slackened line.  I cranked and cranked but he was out‑pulling me, taking drag right into the next bunch of weeds.   It didn’t stay there long, coming out to a clearing about ten feet from the rock I was on.  Realizing its moments were numbered, it pulled twice to the left and right with the power of a five‑pounder looking for more cover.  After another minute the only safety it found itself in was my net.  As I lifted it out it looked like it might be over four pounds but on the Normark fifty‑pound electronic scale the big calico weighed three pounds eight ounces.

    After light I packed up and started walking toward Opaleye Point, casting the Fish Trap every ten feet or so.  As usual, I had no more bass bites in the daylight.  It was time to try for other kinds of fish.  Standing on a rock to the right of the point, I tossed two hands full of peas and a few smashed mussels into the water for chum, then tied my fifteen‑pound spinning outfit with the opaleye bobber enteromorpha rig and a number ten treble hook.  It was at least a half‑hour before I had my first bite using mussel, a four‑inch jacksmelt snagged in the eyeball.

    I switched over to putting three peas on the hook, one on each prong.  I had lots of hits on the veggie but they were all small.  In the next hour I landed four opaleye, all of which were quarter‑pounders and released.  At least that was some promise for when the water temp cools.

    When I sliced open the day’s biggest calico bass I found something in it that I have never found in any of the other thousands of bass I have cleaned.  Inside its stomach was a half‑digested calico bass of seven inches.  I was going to fry up the little guy to see if papa bass’s belly acids put some kind of wonderful flavor on its meat but I chickened out.

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