Crackling, buzzing and barely audible over his cell phone, Breakwall Darryl the other week excitedly announced the christening of the new boat his Ol’ Lady bought as they powered their way across Lake Smellsomemore during the vessel’s break-in period.  What kind of boat is this, I axted.  He said it’s twenty feet, fiberglass and has a V8.  WOWZA! COOL! et al, I exclaimed, cogitating that the only reason he’d call me with this news is he was going to invite me to maybe go fishing with him in it one of these days.  Then he goes on to say they didn’t get it for fishing purposes because the aforementioned boatmeistress will not tolerate fish guts all smashed and squished into every or any nook and cranny of the thing.

    My own self, having cleaned many a boat after a day of ocean fishing, knew the basic problem of anchovies and sardines getting stepped on and ground into the fiberglass.  Thinking quickly I developed a workaround plan.  Dude, I proposed, all we need to do is not use bait.  We can hit up the boiler rocks and local breakwalls using Fish Traps to hook calicos somewhat like we did a couple weeks ago.  Then we net the fish and deposit them directly into the ice chest with nary a slime booger staining the carpet.  Sounding like a brilliant idea to him – because he likely thought of it too – he went off to importune and wheedle the commissioner for her blessing to authorize our stated course of action.  Secretly I wondered how many times the words “pretty please” were uttered.

    Well, it must’ve been a lot because within six begging days the call came, studded with positive feedback.  We can go as long as the no-guts rule is strictly followed.   Fireworks went off in my head.

    The Gltter Palm:  we could stick Fish Traps into the outside of the Opaleye Point kelp before light.  The Crossette: we’ll zoom over to Catalina real quick to fish plastics off the West End.  The Dalia:  drift along the Federal Breakwall, hitting just about every calico-occupied underwater grotto imaginable.

    Anywho, last night I was at his house in Wilmington at eight, drooling over his new Chaparral SSe 200.  At 2:45 this morning, after a quick nap, we were stuffing the boat with our gear, leaving the driveway at three.  By four we launched from the Second Street facility in Long Beach and were under way.

    Outside Angel’s Gate the swell was two feet and a little mixed up, as there was a surge from both the north and south, making a crossing to Catalina an event for another day.  Yeah, we slapped hard a few times but at five, in darkness, we neared the Opaleye Point kelp.  We could tell where we were by the lights of the P. V. Bay club, which we were very familiar with after fishing the spot for over ten years.  It was low tide, so we waited a few minutes for the hint of dawn before we snuck in closely.  We flipped Fish Traps into the strands for a disappointing thirty minutes without a hit before motoring over to the Point Vicente rock.

    There, as we drifted in and around the rock, we hooked two calicos apiece, but they were all eleven inches and released.  Darryl landed a two-pound cabezon and a small rockfish but those too were thrown back.

    The rest of the morning, as we worked our way back to the harbor, we stopped off at several kelp patches between Long Point and Point Fermin, making cast after cast into the strands.  Several more of the bass were hooked, but nothing was over the twelve-inch legal requirement.

    As we stopped to fish some kelp off Inspiration Point near Abalone Cove, we saw two guys fishing from a prominent rock, both of who were o    bviously oblivious to the fact that since they had climbed out there the tide had come in making their perch an island.  Observing them while we unproductively cast amongst the rocks and weeds, the two of us gave them a silent prayer, saying we hope we don’t hear on the eleven o’clock news about two more fisherdudes  who were washed out at high tide.

    Two weeks ago I reported my Ambassedeur baitcasting reel goofed up while on the hooked-up retrieve.  Well, the other day I tore the thing apart and found no problems with any of the mechanical parts.  Upon reassembling the mess it worked perfectly.  I discerned that fact this morning by reeling in several rouge kelp strands without a hitch.  However, tragedy struck that outfit again this trip as I reared back for a heave of the Fish Trap.  In mid-cast I managed to get the lure stuck on a rubber dealie on the side of the boat and as I raised my thumb up off the spool, the whole thing exploded into an irreparable bird’s nest, rendering it useless.  Instead of screwing with it I tied on a Fish Trap to my backup outfit, the basic 1966 Mitchell 302 reel spooled with fifteen-pound-test attached to a seven-foot Fenwick graphite spinning rod.  It worked great the rest of the day except for a few more lures lost to rocks and weeds due to the lighter line.

    Big Darryl managed to smuggle aboard a package of frozen squid.  With a chunk pinned to a red leadhead, he flipped and tossed that jig into the kelp and rocks without even a smelt nibble.  Don’t tell his Ol’ Lady he did that.

    At ten we found ourselves prospecting for fish in the kelp that envelops Angel’s Gate.  The current necessary for major production was non-existent as evidenced by the kelp floating listlessly atop the water.  Several casts around the area produced no hits so off we went.

    At the Federal Breakwall we found water conditions of surprising clarity and calmness, and a breeze which allowed the boat to drift pretty much parallel to the five-mile strand of rocks in the direction of east, about one hundred yards at a time before we had to back off for another approach.  Here and there we would cast right up to the rocks and reel in to let the three-quarter-ounce leadhead and five-inch bodies sink some.  We must have covered two miles and a few shorties before something substantial was brought aboard.

    After about fifty casts we both accomplished perfect aim up and into where the water met the rocks.  Near the breakwall’s bend, BAM I was on, a nice thirteen-inch two-taco calico was deposited into the cooler.  Next was Darryl with a nifty fourteen-incher destined for the fry pan.  From this same ten-foot stretch of rocks we each caught another shortie each.  These things were hitting three cranks of the reel away from where our lures were splashing down, really tight up into the wall.  Finally with two keepers in the hold we motored up current fifty yards to drift over the spot again to see if maybe we missed one or two.  Wrong assumption, further down wind we drifted.

    About a half-hour later we hit another spot with bass hanging out.  We caught five more with the same up-close casting technique.  The two of that set between thirteen and fourteen inches were dropped into the ice chest for tacos.  Another re-drift over the same spot concluded with no other hits.

    Another half hour later and only a couple more shorties had us nearing the end of the wall at Queens Gate.  There we found three other boats anchored up, so we fired up the motor and headed across the entrance to give the Long Beach breakwall a shot.

    There, the water was quite stained with lots of flotsam garbage in the way.  This wall was at an angle such that we could only cover about twenty yards before having to back off as the breeze was blowing us right into the rocks.  Nonetheless we had a few hits but they were only pencil-size barracuda coming up in plain sight along side of the boat to attack the lures.  I reared back on one tap-tap I felt at the end of my line and ended up detecting no resistance whatsoever.  I reeled in and found no lure at the end of the string, so I knew one of them toothy critters was responsible for the loss of the $2.50 jig.

    At 1:30 in the afternoon and just about every hotspot from Point Vicente to the end of the Long Beach breakwall covered by thousands of casts between us, we went on a little sightseeing tour around the Alamitos Bay to Sunset Beach area to at least ease my aching back.  The oilrig looked good for a few casts until a big ol’ boat with a working crew showed up before we got there.  We went over to the jetties that protect the entrance to Huntington harbor, but they were roiled in dirty, sandy water.  The area around Bill’s bait dock was crowded with anchored boats trying for bonito or mackerel or whatever else would hit live bait.

    With four keepers on ice we ended the day, planning our next trip to Catalina after we hear the bass bite is going off there – and the swell in the San Pedro Channel is somewhat calm.

*****

From Jim L., Eastern Sierra Opener report:

Fishing in the Sierra's was great, we caught a lot of trout.  Here is my picture on Saturday with my string of trout.

I caught them at the Intake II power plant pond below Lake Sabrina above the city of Bishop.  We were at 8,200 feet and some of the lake had ice on the sides.   Another picture of Intake II from the other side looking up towards Lake Sabrina range of mountains.
More pictures to follow:  Ice fishing at Rock Creek Lake and Middle Virginia Lake.

Top