Last week we had an early morning scheduled power outage in the neighborhood, rendering the house useless and boring.  Might as well go fish.

    I found myself down to the left of the Crescent Bay staircase, making my first flings of the five-inch Fish Trap on the Santa Ana cove side of Twin Points at four.   This is where I had all my bites and five calico bass landings last time.  Not this time.  In two hours of casting all over the points I felt no hits.

    I switched to mussel at dawn, had a few nibbles.  Yup, BORING!  God I miss my sandy bass.

    So in chatting online with Breakwall Don the other day, he brought up the idea of fishing for sand bass on a boat out of one of the local landings.  Sounded like a better plan than the time from rocks I had been wasting most of this season.  Viewing the Daily Dock Totals from Dana to Marina Del Rey, the vessel New Del Mar out of the latter had full limits of sandies on their afternoon run.  Big Don made the reservations.

    The boat was scheduled to shove off at noon today, which is why I left home at nine.  I wanted to stop by Don’s house first (he lives near the marina) but traffic wouldn’t have any of that.  It took two hours forty minutes to get to the landing… or what I thought was the landing.  I saw a sign that said Marina Del Rey Sportfishing with an arrow pointing toward a dock.  I hung out at the rail for a few before seeing our ride approach.  As the New Del Mar eased into to the dock, I walked back to my truck to strap on all my gear.

    Hiking back down I saw the boat was gone.  Momentarily stunned I looked around but didn’t see it and the time was already five till twelve.  I knew I had the street right, Fiji Way, but obviously the wrong dock.  I jumped back in the truck -- backpack and Camelback still attached -- paid a buck for parking and zoomed down the road further into the marina.  I thought my jinxed fish prowess of late would again rule the day.

    Jeez, there she is, at another dock without an MDR Sportfishing sign.  I pulled into the parking lot as the morning passengers disembarked.  I put the cooler in the cab, grabbed my poles and at eleven fifty-nine and forty-eight seconds I hear Don yelling, “Over here.”

    Then I had to explain traffic was a bitch and I went to the wrong MDR Sportfishing a quarter mile down the road.  “I told you it’s at Dock 52.  There’s only one Dock 52.”

    Yeah, yeah.

    Anywho, since Don made reservations like a week in advance, his party of four, which included us two and his pals Fred and Al, was called up first.  I staked a claim to the port-side stern rail, what I like to call the hot corner.

    On the way out to the fishing grounds, everyone of what looked to be forty-five passengers ponied up the $30 boarding fee.  The deckhands came around soliciting for the $5 to enter the jackpot, into which the four of us donated.  Yesterday the boat reported full limits of 10 sand bass per angler, plus today the moon was going to be straight up at 3pm, both specters portending success for today.  About five miles off Venice Beach the boat circled around, finally zeroing in on something before dropping anchor.

    Over the loudspeaker the captain announced there were three levels of sand bass, schools at 35, 65 and 75 feet.  I started my casting with none other that the five-inch Fish Trap with a one-ounce Fishco head.  I let it sink for a while then reeled in with the standard slow jerky motion.  Most other folks were dropping one of the five-inch live sardines straight down to the proper depth using three or four ounces of lead.

    After about 15 tosses I thought I had a hit.  Dang, my line, ensnared by another’s (or vice versa), was heading to the right where someone was hooked up.  Not taking any chances I cranked it like I had one.  When the four-pound class sandy was bounced on the deck, I saw my lure in it’s mouth!  Woo hoo, until my lure came bouncing up moments later.  Bastard was using the same size and pattern of Fish Trap as me, the Channel Islands ’chovy, only with a different head.

    That bit of action renewed my vigor as I kept with the lure for what seemed like the next hour.  I let it sink, not sink and everything in between yet the other Mr. Fish Trap caught two more big sandies including one that looked five pounds.

    Disgruntled with the lure, I grabbed my fifteen-pound spinning outfit, already set up for soaking a ’dine with a one-ounce topedo.  I nose-hooked  the liveliest bait available to my 1/0 Owner flyliner and tossed out at a 45-degree angle away from everyone else’s lines.  It seemed like an hour went by and several rebaitings before I finally hooked something, a sandy weighing in at a pound-and-a-half.  Soon thereafter Big Don hooks up and reels in a sandy somewhere around the same size.

    At one point, I think around 3pm, a deckhand cranked in the anchor and the captain announced a search for another, possibly hungrier school.  Speaking of, Don bought lunch; the galley burger was quite tasty.  Circling around in the same general area down went the anchor, “They’re on the bottom” came across the PA.

    With the moon straight up the bite seemed to improve somewhat.  I used the same bottom live bait rig only with three ounces to get the sardine down there without haste.  Again another hour and several baits went by, the whole time we watched several other toad sandies hit the deck.  One dude screaming for the gaff decked one that eyeballed in over five pounds.  Another angler caught a log-sized barracuda and would likely win the jackpot if another of the same specie weren’t netted.  We all watched in envy as the 11-year-old Japanese girl, fishing with her little sis, Dad and Grampa bagged three big fatties.  You go girl!

    And finally I hooked up again.  This one was tugging fervently, causing me to have to lighten up on the drag a bit.  BAM, I bounced the three-pound sandy on the deck then scooted it over to the bag.  Big Don was right in there with his second, right around the same size.  Check out Fred!   He too is bouncing a two-pounder.

    As per usual, the 16:30 cut-off time arrived quickly.  The boat has to be back at the dock by five for the twilight run.  Far from limits, all nonetheless had a wonderful time and the 'cuda won the $90 jackpot.

*****

Aunt Joyce and Uncle Tony's fished the June Lake area of the Eastern High Sierra:

We really had a wonderful time . . . have never had such perfect weather - no rain, clouds, thunder nor wind . .  just perfect sunshine.  Even the nights were comfortable!      Joyce

Editor's notes:

In the 4th pic, Unkie Ton looks like he's fishing for yellowtail with that jigmaster!  I'm thinking trolling with leaded line might explain such heavy gear.

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