Last month Breakwall Dan expressed an interest in making an opaleye run with me.  The only morning we have off synchronously is every other Sunday.  I looked at the tide chart and spotted today, my regular work day, as having the best tide of any seventh day in a while, a six-footer at ten o’clock.  I told the boss I’m taking my New Years holiday, see ya.

    A couple of stipulations always emerge when attempting to schedule an ocean fish trip months in advance.  The first would be the basketball injury Dan sustained to his lower leg last year, which though healed for the most part, is still a bit weak and tender for the serious climbing of bluff trails.  This will limit our endeavors to the easy trail leading to Palos Verdes’ Long Point, a fantastic opaleye spot when the swell cooperates at three feet or below.  I mentioned he should not purchase his one-day sport fishing license ($11.50 OUCH!) until the last minute in case life and/or conditions go awry.

    On the bright side, the developers of the new Terranea project on the old Marineland property now keep the place wide open for trespassing.  The previous owners, Long Point Associates, would only let you park from eight in the morning until four in the afternoon and once you got there you would hope the guard remembered to promptly unlock the chain link gate at the trail head.  Now that all of the old buildings and fences have been torn down to ready the area for the proposed mega-hotel and golf course, we can park there before dawn, walk down the easy trail (we had to hop over a few felled palm trees), jump out to the pillar rock at low tide to cast WildEyes for bass until sunrise before switching over to the opaleye algae bobber rig to fish the incoming tide to the left of the point the rest of the day.

    Nearing the date, I had the day off, the swell chart said three feet, Dan bought his permit and a package of lures, and we’re good to go.

    At the Colorado Lagoon slime pit in Long Beach we harvested in five minutes a full scoop of number nine quality algae, the richest kind.

    Right on schedule at six we arrived at our destination and donned our rain suits before scampering down the trail to the point.  Once there we saw calm water interrupted not often by the anticipated three foot set; perfect.  I put down my backpack and with lure rod, net and bag in hand, jumped out to the pillar and had at it.

    Dan was right behind me but he stopped short of making the four-foot leap from one rock to the other with five feet of water between.  Those darn sports injuries.  Back to the shoreline to cast he went.

    I meanwhile fan cast all over the place, bringing my five-inch mackerel by every reef, nook and kelp paddy I could find.  The only hit I had was when I yo-yoed the lure in front of the rock I was standing on.  Whatever it was didn’t stick, it was too dark to make an identity, but it reminded me of a time not too long ago when I saw an eight pound calico come up from under that same rock to attack my lure.

    Within a half hour I had that spot covered, so back over to shore I went, took a drink of water, then headed to the left to fish some other rocks exposed by low tide.  After several casts there I tossed way out and felt a hit on the sink.  I cranked with great passion, set the hook and had one on... for only ten seconds as number two of the day on the lure escaped my barbed clutches.

    It’s light enough now for opaleye.  Moving back over to the hot spot to the left of the point, I tossed in a few handfuls of chum and presto, Big Dan hooked up fairly quickly with a smallish opaleye, barely eyeballing in at a pound, but something to slide into the bag nonetheless.

    Even though the bite wasn’t blazing hot, we were getting nibbled on a lot, as evidenced by our bobbers jumping around.  Next it was my turn with an opaleye slightly bigger than Dan’s but probably a few ounces short of a pound-and-a-half.

    More chum and an hour went by before Dan hooks up again to what appeared to be a fighter.  He played it perfectly between the rocks and kelp as the swell washed it back and forth, left and right.  I dipped the net; he directed it right in there sans haste.  I lifted the net to reveal a fat toad of a 2-2 opaleye flopping pointlessly in the mesh.  In a fit of jealousy I told him, here, grab the net and get out of my face.  I also suggested he throw back the little guy now that he caught a real keeper, which he did.

    In the next hour the both of us had lots of nibbles, with King Dan hooking and landing yet another opaleye that pushed the two-pound mark.  Unbelievably the best I could muster was two more hookups which came unbuttoned.  Score Dan three Dufish one.

    Past trips had the bite really happening from one hour before high tide to one hour after.  Today, not so much.  We both had a few bobbers going down but no hookups.  With the bite somewhat lackluster, a few marine sights stole our collective wonderment.  Seals and sea lions bobbed their head looking for a place to land, a pod porpoise cruised by, a grey whale on its way south breached in front of us a hundred yards out, and the granddaddy of them all, a frenzy of thousands of pelicans and other diving birds crashing the water over ten-acre bait ball moving slowly to the west.  All that was good to see in these times of dying oceans.

    At 10:30, with the bite all but non-existent, we cut it off to head back to Aliso for the kickoff of the first NFL championship game.

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