Ah, the wonders of working the second shift.  Just think.  If you’re on the job from four until midnight, you are off during the prime fishing hours of 04:00 to 09:00.  Now let’s see if you can handle the stresses involved.

    Today, Saturday, was a prime example.  Friday morning I cleaned house, packed the truck with all my pre-tied gear and enough supplies for an overnight stay at Breakwall Don’s house.  I ate five slices of frozen used pizza, then was off to work an hour early so that on my way I could stop by Colorado Lagoon in Long Beach for a half‑scoop of enteromorpha bait.

    After work I made it to Don’s in Culver City by 01:30 for a three‑hour snooze.  At 05:30 we were out the door headed up the coast to one of his favorite spots north of Malibu.  We were planning on fishing from the end of some rocks during low tide but the swell chart was showing that five‑to‑seven‑foot waves were pounding every south‑facing beach between Orange to Santa Barbara Counties, which includes Malibu.

   At the first rock we stopped to check, we saw four swells having no trouble washing over the top.  Nonetheless we walked down the stairs to give it a go.  When it looked like we were between wave sets, I hopped onto the tallest rock around to cast the five‑inch Fish Trap.  I didn’t even get ten cranks on the reel before a wall of water developed in front of me.  I turned to run but there wasn’t anywhere to go.  Since I was wearing my rain suit I just kind of cowered and let the wave hit me.  Damn thing almost knocked my stupid ass off for a ten‑foot fall to the beach.  Somehow I clung on and when the water settled, I cast again.

    I barely retrieved the lure half‑way when another swell came roaring in, only this time I grabbed a piece of piping that was concreted into the rock to use as a cliffhanger as the whitewater came rushing in.  When the imbuement cleared I broke off the snagged lure and jumped down to safer ground.

    Next thing to do was to pick a couple mussels and cast a chunk of their meat out into the surf with the eight-pound outfit tied up with a one-ounce torpedo sinker.  A half-hour of that produced no hits.

    Don used a whole squid with a big weight, but even with that slab of ballast the current was such that our lines were going every which way, like right into the rocks.

    Before packing it up for the next spot, Don waded out for some of the bigger mussels.  Even with the water level up with the storm surge, he was able to collect several of the mollusks, which were four inches long.  

    At the top of the stairs near the car we looked down thinking the water was calming somewhat and in thirty minutes, at absolute low tide, we could start fishing that rock.  Mere seconds later a big one came through, washing clean over it.

    We tried another spot south along the highway.  From the bluff the water looked calm... until we grabbed our gear and headed down.  Wave after wave soaked us, creating such a miserable condition I don’t know who could handle it.  We had our fill and were out of there.  On the way back to the motel, a stop at Rubio’s for commercial fish tacos was the right choice.  Very tasty.

    Back at Don’s I got another three hours of sleep before going back to work.  I thought I was going to be drowsy and in general out of it throughout the night.  I wasn’t.  I felt great, although a little homesick.  It worked out well that I could fish and still have two days off to tend to the backyard project.  So well in fact I was thinking of hanging an Auto Club Los Angeles and Vicinity map on the wall of my study, into which I can stick pins with big plastic heads where each of my buddies reside, then figuring out which bodies of water they live next to.  Watch out.  I might be knocking on your door at one thirty in the morning, all stressed out.

*****

From Duggie, trout at his secret spot:

Last weekend I headed out to hit the River for a little nymph action. It's real slow now cuz apparently the fish are spawning and not much interested in food. But I landed this 15 incher on a #16 prince nymph. I had to fight him for nearly ten minutes as he striped fly line off my reel and bolted downstream. It's catch and release only, so I tossed him back, hopefully to play him another day. The fish here are all brilliantly colored and quite fiesty.

Top