Diamond Valley Lake 6/16
The Breakwall Crew figured out as far back as the 1970’s largemouth bass stay up in the shallows along the shoreline later in the morning if there is a marine layer keeping the sun off the water. I’ve tried Diamond Valley Lake many times since 2005 and each time we had overcast skies the fishing was good. When sunny not so much. This trick is incompatible with storm clouds, as no type of fishing is good during a lowering barometer. Better to wait until the pressure rises as the front passes through.
Up until last fall I had Monday through Wednesday mornings off, which was perfect for a fisherman. I could pick any of the three days if cloudy and be the first in line at the gate when the impound opened in the morning and later see only a handful of other anglers trying their luck. A little over a year ago DVL closed Mondays and Tuesdays leaving me with only one day per week to hope a thick stratus would be available when I awoke early and peered out my glass door.
Now I have my first Monday through Friday schmuck job since I can’t remember how long and have only Saturdays and Sundays to goof off… along with about 15 million other fisherpersons around So. Cal.
I actually had so much vacation time saved up the previous three years that I needed to take five days this past winter and spring or lose them. This past December I scheduled three Fridays and two Wednesdays that had either good tides or descent moon phases conductive to biting fish. The intent is noble but of course you cannot plan ahead your adverse weather or other conditions.
Such as no bait. The two days I wanted to fish the high tides for opaleye there was no green bait at Colorado Lagoon even though we had what seemed to be an okay ulva intestinalis algae growing season this past winter, with your standard rainstorm now and again.
Two of my springtime bass days off we had hot sunshine instead of the hoped-for May gray. The third such preplanned day was gray alright. A rain cell parked itself over DVL all day long. Maybe fishing would have been good but I didn’t feel like hiking around for five hours in that mess.
With all that off time spent, I am again reduced to weekends. Last month I awoke on a Saturday to perfect drizzly skies all the way out to Hemet but once I arrived at Angler Road leading into the lake, one of the concession employees was out in the middle of the street guiding traffic. I couldn’t help but notice all the trailered boats lined up in three directions and asked the gentleman as I pulled up, wow, big crowd. Is this a normal Saturday? I usually stop by on weekdays. No, he replied. Today is the Wounded Warrior tournament. Oh, ok thanks, I disappointedly offered. I turned around and headed home. Nothing worse than a hundred boats working the shoreline right next to your face.
This morning I was up at four, looked outside and saw another overcast opportunity for bass. I started breakfast and while that was cooking I piled all my gear into the trunk of The Silverfish. I normally would get up at three then out the door by four so I can be first or second in line at the gate. Today I was late and didn’t get there until tenth place. I tied on my boots, set everything up then in a few minutes when the man started letting us in at 05:30 the procession to the pay kiosk began. This was a delay of only ten minutes as it only takes something like one minute for the clerk to process each entrant.
I was surprised there weren’t more guys lined up on a Saturday. Then, just before the money hut, a Wal-Mart greeter walked up and said hi, are you fishing the shoreline? I said, yessir loudly and clearly. He said what? What’s that? Are you fishing the shoreline? I replied, yes I am. You’re fishing the shoreline, right? YES!
Is the world so unpolite nowadays that nobody says yes sir or just yes anymore and everyone has forgotten what it means? Maybe I will try ‘yah dude’ next time to see if I can communicate more efficiently that way.
Alas dude got to the point. He informed there is a massive blue green algae bloom under way but Third Cove is more clear than the first two. I thought, wow that's another reason to avoid this place besides sunny days but since Third Cove and beyond is my personal hotspot I gladly paid the $18 entry toll.
A twenty minute hike later I was at the main point past Third Cove casting the standard four inch curly tail purple finesse Power Worm with a 1/8th ounce bullet weight Texas Style to the left at 06:30. Fifth cast I caught one! Bummer was it was only a one pounder but better than nothing. A little farther to the left five casts later as I dragged the worm slowly along the bottom twitching it periodically, another bite and another pounder landed. Good so far. Over to the right I flung out my offering as far as I could, let it sink to the bottom and in only four cranks of the reel I felt a tap-tap. I dropped the rod tip, the line went out and I cranked like a wild man, which you have to do each time to try to keep the fish out of the underwater stickups. The lake was down for many years during the drought, as the Metropolitan Water District maintains this impoundment for emergency supply purposes. During that time the scrub grew back and now that the lake is just about full, many submerged obstacles lie in wait.
Immediately the fish turned and pulled drag like I never felt a bass do before ever. It was one of those hookups that felt like you snagged the bottom then the bottom moved to the right, made five drag pulls then stopped like it was stuck again and wouldn’t budge. I loosened the knob a little just in case and held the line as tight as I could. I expected to be in this predicament for at least the next fifteen minutes. Again it took off and pulled drag four times and then on the fifth yank *SNAP* gone. There went my largemouth bass of a lifetime. I caught five and six pounders before. This one felt twice as big as any of those.
Upon inspection of the line I saw three inches of abrasions near the end. The demise was caused by the fish powering into some unseen dead branches and freeing itself that way. I made sure when I made that first cast this morning the line had no abrasions for a hundred feet.
As I tied on a new Gamakatsu 2/0 off-shank worm hook and bullet weight I told myself, listen. This is the same 12-pound test outfit you are going to use for extra large brown trout next month at your secret lake. Be observant and check for weak spots in the line and test the knot regularly.
To the left with the new hook and bait I felt another tap-tap line going out, set the hook, cranked like crazy and lifted out another one-pounder. Next cast to the same spot and hook up, this one felt bigger and again tugged like I couldn’t move it but I could tell this time it was stuck to a branch. I kept pressure on but the line broke anyway and just thereafter the bass jumped with the worm in it’s mouth. It looked like maybe a pound-and-a-half.
I retied and cast to the right to the same spot where the big one got away. Tap-tap, another one pounder landed. This point of land always produces on overcast days.
Next I made casts every ten feet as I walked back into the cove. From the point all along the next two hundred feet of shoreline is where I have caught the majority of my bass at this lake. It wasn’t long before my next hook up and as I cranked it was stuck in the sticks too and broken off. I tried to let it swim out on three occasions but each time it was snagged and by that time the line had become weakend.
At 07:30 I had a pretty good strike and as what seems to be the theme of the day it got stuck. I let it swim out twice, I cranked and applied pressure and the stick broke as I saw it coming in with the fish. At first I thought it was a crappie but no. It was my personal best bluegill weighing in at one pound. Just think. I should have been posing for photos holding up both my personal best largemouth along with this two-taco bluegill, which by the way I kept for lunch. All the other small bass I released.
As I made my way back into the cove I caught and release two more one-pound bass before the sun broke through at nine. At that time I hiked back to the road and over to the point again for another hour. As the daylight grew brighter I – as predicted – never had another hit. Like the greeter dude mentioned the algae over here wasn’t a problem at all, except for the suspended particles clouding the water. On the hike back to the car the back end of all coves were thick with the rotting green stuff, causing a big stink like someone knocked over one of the outhouses along the road. All the different months in all the 13 years I have fished here I never saw algae. I will blame it on climate change like everything else.