“Service held in memory of Kent’s giant carp”

(Rainbow Trout)

“The Trout Spot“has been generous enough to give our readers a 10% discount on any purchases made on their site. Just reference the promotion code UFV at checkout”

This week has been crazy thus far. Work is picking up; we’re getting all of our stuff packed to move; family issues are running rampant, and I needed to get out and fish. Fly Fishing is the one thing in my life that can take my mind off of anything. As soon as I pick up the rod I step into a different world, and nothing but catching fish and enjoying nature matters.

I arrived at the park and the water was flat. The temperature was starting to rise and I could see the shad hitting the surface, as Little Bass chased them around the lake. I’m not sure how the little Shad got there and how they sustain every year, but there they are! (I have netted a few and caught a couple on little dry flies).

I tied on a small white Flash-A-Bugger with a trailing White Mysis Shrimp Imitation. My imitations of the Shad seem to drive the Largemouth Bass wild every time. I throw a cast as far out into the middle of the lake as I can, and start an extremely fast twiching retrieve.

Now this tactic only seems to work for me in the late Summer through late Fall, the rest of the year I can cast until my arm falls off (usually without one hit). I usually will catch a small Bass on about every 5-10 casts and on good days I feel bites on every cast.

At first I thought, well it must be the flash fooling the fish. So I tried other colors, Black, Olive, Purple, Yellow, Rust, with only a few bites. Then I thought, well maybe it’s the color, and I tied on the same white Woolly Bugger and Mysis Shrimp without any flash tied in. Guess what? NO BITES! Okay so now I am thoroughly convinced it is the color and the flash imitating one of these little shad running for it’s life.

On this day the Bass were relatively small anywhere from 5-12 Inches, but I have caught big Bass on this rig.

I especially remember one morning being out just after the sun had come up. I tied up my rig, cast into the center of the lake , and started stripping vigorously. Just as I was about to pick up my fly and recast, a huge Bass came flying out of the water attacking my fly like a Great White Shark after a seal. He was hooked and the fight began. I chased the bass around the lake for about 10 minutes and when he finally was close enough to lip I bent down hands shaking, and with one more shake of his giant head my fly came loose and hit me square in the forehead. I pulled the fly of my skin to find that he had totally bent out the hook and by the looks of the Bass he was pushing 8-10 pounds (that is one big park lake Bass)!

Hopefully next time I get a monster like that there will be a photo to follow, and smiles for days!

“The Majestic Plastic Bag”

(Rainbow Trout)

 “Richard over at The Trout Spot has been generous enough to give our readers a 10% discount on any purchases made on his site. Just reference the promotion code UFV at checkout”

That warning is especially true if kids are around. Sure, they might not LOOK like they are paying attention, but you had better quickly drop any misguided illusions that they aren’t.

If you’re doubtful, try this little experiment: Say something derogatory about something like a particular brand of product when the kids are within earshot and then go shopping with them.

Deliberately put the aforementioned item in your shopping cart and watch what happens.

You are being watched.

Now, the upshot to this is that through careful mentoring and guidance, you can instill your love of the outdoors and fishing and such into those same malleable kids who would unwittingly pass along any disparaging remarks you made about the neighbor during dinner one night to that very same neighbor during your annual summer block party.

Since you are being watched, I say – use it to your advantage

Case in point: our God-daughter has heard me talk long and lovingly about fishing since she was old enough to understand the meaning of the word. By carefully encouraging her and coaching her on the virtues of fishing (there are some!) she naturally now wants to go fishing with her Uncle Dan. I have even given her a pink Barbie pole and tackle box just to let her know that fishing can be chic and stylish. I carefully and deliberately model my behavior and speak enthusiastically about the “benefits” of things like hooking yourself, and getting spined and stepping in duck droppings and using porta-potties that are long overdue for emptying and…well, you get the picture and, as far as my God-daughter is concerned, all those things are part of fishing and are somehow part of the fun – though sometimes she is not quite sure if I truly understand the definition of “fun”.

Nevertheless, she likes fishing and always wants to know if I still like fishing even after a fishless expedition.

I know I am being watched.

So a couple of weekends ago, I had an opportunity to once again expand my God-daughter’s idea of what constitutes “fun” when it comes to fishing.

Through a series of convoluted scheduling changes I was able to spend the afternoon at Downey Wilderness Park with her and our fishing gear. I hadn’t read of any recent fish plants so I knew the odds of actually catching anything there were already pretty slim but it was the place with the easiest access within the time frame we had.

With this information already in the back of my mind, I decided to put the emphasis on technique and style. I rigged her pole with a fairly heavy egg sinker and I let her pick the color of Power Bait (despite my dislike of bait-fishing). We settled on neon green which I dubbed “booger bait” much to my protégé’s delight. I baited her hook, pretended to lick the leftover “booger bait” from my fingers, again to her delight and disgust, then reviewed proper casting technique and finally just let her go for it.

Sure enough her first cast sailed halfway across the narrow section of the pond I had deliberately chosen and her confidence level soared. Anyone within earshot surely heard how amazing that first cast was. Then, after untangling the ensuing birds-nest and re-reviewing the intricacies of spinning reels in kidspeak, I set up shop next to her.

I intentionally choose the fly reel with yellow floating line and tied on a big, gaudy dry fly despite the slim chances of anything actually making a surface hit. I then made sure to make my first cast near to her line so that she could immediately brag that her casts were farther and better than mine.

Everything was going pretty much according to plan…then the mosquito fish showed up.

Now, I should have remembered from previous trips that in the eyes of a seven-year old, fish of any size are likely targets. So when a swarm of mosquito fish hustled up to the bank in front of us in the hopes of picking up some scraps of our lunch, suddenly the objects of our pursuit seemed all the more real and attainable – so real, in fact that the bait on the end of a certain Barbie pole rig lost some of its appeal and catching mosquito fish grew in importance.

So much so, that a certain young fisher-girl raced excitedly up and down the bank shouting out questions about mosquito fish as they alternately fled and followed her.

I answered a multitude of questions about mosquito fish. More questions than I knew I could be asked about mosquito fish. I made mosquito fish sound like the absolute best harbingers of big fish that one could come across.

And then it happened.

In the excitement of the moment, a certain young fisher-girl misjudged the uneven terrain between grass and concrete and within a split second was suddenly sitting in six inches of lake water.

The look that followed was a mixture of shock, mild fear, a little pain and embarrassment. I knew that I had to think up a positive spin on the situation and I had to think one up quick.

I knew that she wasn’t hurt and I knew from the way she was sitting that she wasn’t in any danger but I also knew that I only had one chance to save seven years of careful and deliberate work.

“Oh my gosh!” I blurted out. “ You did it. You actually did it. And year’s ahead of schedule even.”

The change in facial expression from near tears to puzzlement told me my ploy was working.

“You have accomplished in one afternoon what it takes some fisher-folk decades to do.”

“What did I do?” She asked with a slight whine and a little tremble in her voice while climbing slowly out of the water.

“You have learned the all-time greatest secret of fishing.”

“I fell in the water and got my shoes wet and my pants are dirty and …”

“Shhh.” I hissed, with a silencing wave of my arms and furtive glances about, “Don’t say another word or you’ll reverse everything. This is great! This is newsworthy. This is a proud day in fishing history. Come over here and I’ll take off your shoes in the special way so we don’t waste what just happened.”

Intrigued, my soggy fishing buddy dutifully squished her way over to me. Kneeling down, I gently removed one shoe, held it up ceremoniously and poured out the collected water from inside. I then did the same with the other shoe and also with each sock.

“You have now entered the Society of Tried and True Fisher-folk. Fish will forevermore fear you and your trusty Fishing Pole of Victory. You came to the park today thinking we were just going to have some fun, but you leave a full-fledged fisher-women. Congratulations.”

The smile on her face spoke volumes. Her posture straightened, her head lifted, her eyes sparkled. Her soggy pants didn’t seem to matter quite so much.

“Can we tell Mama? Can we tell Papa?”

“Oh, absolutely. In fact, we must tell them and we must document this great day with pictures. Go stand by your tackle box.”

And just as quickly as it began, the crisis was averted and we ended up spending another hour pleasantly moving around the lake chasing the ever elusive “monster fish that lurks in every pond where mosquito fish are found”.

Yes, you are being watched and if there is any lesson at all to this little story it is that we veteran fisher-folk can model positive behaviors and help the next generation (one that is generally becoming less and less attuned to the realm of nature that we so much enjoy) develop a keener, finer sense of the great outdoors…and maybe a sense of humor to boot.

However, should you doubt the conclusions drawn from this episode, Let me offer you a little proof from the other day: Just two weeks after the great “splash down”, my God-daughter enthusiastically invited herself to accompany me and my fishin’ buddy, Sean on an impromptu afternoon getaway at a local lake.

Once we arrived at our chosen lake, she happily cast away between us as we worked our way around the perimeter, never once shying away from the water’s edge. She even agreed to pose for a picture while lipping one of the small Bass Sean managed to pull out with one of his custom shrimp flies.

The three of us had a great summer afternoon enjoying the sun, the sounds of ducks and kids, the sparkle of the water and the occasional zing of a tightening line.

Yeah, I am being watched and hopefully I am making it clear that I love this addiction called urban fly fishin’.

(Rainbow Trout)

My fishing buddy Dan and I recently set aside a saturday to explore Laguna Niguel Lake. I’m not sure why neither of us had ever made it there before. The temptation to explore was overwhelming and off we went.

We arrived Early at about 8:00 a.m. The clouds were thick and the lake was flat. There were only a few fishermen out on the lake and I had the feeling that it would be a good day.

We arrived with the full intention of Shore Fishing, but when we caught a view of the sign reading “All day boat rental $25″ plans changed. Now if you have been following our recent adventures, then you have probably realized that we are for lack of a better word “cheap”. We will usually avoid paying any kind of parking, entrance, other fees. Come to think of it, that’s probably why we had never been to this lake before.

But sometimes things change, and it was like the little boat tied up to the dock was calling our name. So the wallets opened and we loaded our stuff into the watercraft, ready to take on whatever this piece of water would throw our way.

I had heard many stories over the years that this Lake is a great Largemouth Bass Fishery, and was hoping to get at least one nice bucketmouth on the other end of the line. Well, the fish had other plans, and the day started out with just 2-3 bites and 0 fish landed. I was starting to smell a skunk.

As the temperature warmed, we made our way over to a cove on a shallow portion of the lake. We started to see a few Sunfish moving around and activity on the surface. That meant it was time for the Hopper/Dropper rig.

We made our way along the edge of the weed line, and all of the sudden my fly just disappeared. I set the hook and a fish was on the line. I pulled it out of the water to find a large Bluegill has smacked my Hopper and in all of the commotion a smaller one had taken the Dropper. This was my first double, and with closer inspection I realized the Bluegill I caught was a little monster.  

In California the Sunfish tend to be stunted due to overpopulation, and catching a Bluegill this size doesn’t happen very often.

After that catch the Bluegill came out fighting, and we started landing fish on every cast. They were small, but when the Bass aren’t biting it makes for a great time.

As the sun rose to it’s peak and the hottest portion of the day had arrived. We decided to call it quites, and away we went. It was a great experience. It was my first time fly fishing from a boat, and it was extremely rewarding.

I’m so glad that we decided to rent that boat!

Cheating scandal at U.S. Open rocks bass-fishing community

“The Trout Spot“has been generous enough to give our readers a 10% discount on any purchases made on their site. Just reference the promotion code UFV at checkout”

Saturday marked a break in the chaos. We traded in our working gloves for a nice relaxing weekend up in Big Bear, and to me that meant Saturday morning fishing on the Santa Ana River.

I arrived at my starting point at about 6:00 am, and the birds were just starting to sing their melodies as the sun rose to the east. I grabbed my gear, hit the first hole, and from the first cast I just felt all the stress and tension melt away.

I’m sure it helped that I pulled about 5 nice little Brown Trout and Rainbow Trout out of the first hole, and the fish just continued to show. I was enjoying the beauty around me so much. I almost forgot that I run a fishing blog and my camera was begging to get in on the action.

The day was more than I could ask for. I got hung up a few times and even lost a couple of flies. But, when you’re catching that many fish it doesn’t seem to matter.

The only thing I need to get through my thick head, is to bring insect repellent. After my arrival back at the cabin I was covered from head to toe in bug bites, though my bliss seemed to help me ignore them (at least until the next morning)

By 11:30 the Bait fishermen were out in full force, and I decided to say adeu. I did however stop to greet each one I passed checking for a fishing license, and to make sure they were not out laying a slaughter fest on the stream. A couple of guys even asked me if they had stocked recently (I guess I just look official), to which I replied they never stock this stream and you should probably head over to the Lake. What can I say, they just seem to rub me the wrong way. Plus, I really can’t stand the smell of Powerbait!

Most of our regular readers know I have a deep and abiding interest in all things related to fish — which partially explains my love of fishing, the ocean and aquatic things in general. (The other reasons would undoubtedly fill chapters in psychology textbooks, but have little bearing on this discussion, so we will ignore those for now.)

As you can already surmise, I am fascinated by fish behavior, anatomy, biology and so on and so forth. This life-long fascination has led to a degree in marine biology as well as further certificates in wildlife management, forestry, conservation, aquaculture and even study in aquatic medicine.

(I don’t tell you these things to brag, but rather to give you some insight into where I am coming from.)

By the time I was in Jr. High, I had firmly made up my mind that I would study science and particularly marine biology.

Then the movie, Jaws, came out.

I vividly remember sitting in the theater, mesmerized yet scared out of my mind, watching the drama of that story unfold.

I remember the famous scene where Quint says, “You go in the cage? Cage goes in the water?… Shark’s in the water”…(then begins to sing) “Farewell and adieu me fair Spanish ladies, farewell and adieu, me ladies of Spain….”

Ironically, I saw the movie on a Friday night and the next Monday we were scheduled to take a two-week summer vacation trip up the coast to Vancouver. All along the way, my family planned to camp at the many wonderful beaches of the West Coast – right in the heart of the Red Triangle, the section of the U.S. coastline where the most cases of documented White Shark attacks had occurred over the last 100 years or so.

Needless to say, I did very little swimming, but a whole lot of watching.

But, besides giving me nightmares for a month, the other thing that movie did was transform my morbid curiosity about sharks (remember I was transitioning from Jr. High to High School) into a life long and sincere interest in them. If I had made up my mind prior to the movie to study marine bio., there was no doubt after the movie that I would study marine bio.

All that to say, that even today sharks hold a huge interest for me. I have two, possibly three whole bookshelves devoted solely to books on sharks. “Shark Week” is almost a reason in and of itself to get cable.

I like sharks.

Perhaps a better term would be respect and fascination with sharks. I look upon them as design perfection in action.

But, getting back to the movie. If you recall it at all, (I admit, I watch it every July 4th) there is a scene where the characters, having gotten drunk during dinner, are comparing scars acquired over their respective lives.

Hopper points to a bleached out spot on Quint’s arm where a tattoo used to be and says, “Let me guess….Mother.”

Quint gets serious and says, “That, Mr. Hopper, is the U.S.S. Indianapolis”.

Hopper quickly gets serious and we, along with Chief Brody get a quick, graphic history lesson about the U.S.S. Indianapolis and one of the most terrifying and tragic incidents in U.S. Naval history.

It is a riveting scene and based in reality.

I firmly believe that, as I went off to college and began working with professors and grad students who were studying sharks, every one of them had been affected by the story depicted in that scene (we all knew about it) and what it represented. I also believe that many were driven, in part, to study what they did because of that story. For many of us going to school in that time period, marine biology was synonomous with the study of sharks.

Now, as many of you may already be aware, one of the hottest trends in saltwater fly fishing right now, at least on the “Left Coast”, is kayak fishing for Mako sharks. And there is arguably no more knowledgeable or skillful shark flyfisherman than Conway Bowman . He has introduced countless individuals to the excitement, thrill and challenge of catching sharks on the fly.

He has systematically built a solid reputation as a fly fishing guide, shark expert, and conservationists and he has renewed public awareness of sharks.

Sharks are once again, hot ticket items – charismatic megafauna, as we say in the Zoo and Aquarium trade and they are spawning a whole slew of techniques, equipment and related travel categories centered around catching them.

Everybody seems to be talking about shark fishing.

So imagine my surprise the other day when I turned on the radio and came in on the middle of an interview with one of the survivors of the U.S.S. Indianapolis.

Suddenly all of the giddy delight about sharks and shark fishing and catalogs with new gear and package deals and such all fell by the wayside and I was taken back to that long forgotten Friday night in the crowded theater watching Quint tell the story of the U.S.S. Indianapolis and the fate of the men who served on her.

In the interview, Edgar Harrell, USMC related that out of the approximately 900 men that went into the water (out of a crew of 1196) at 1204 am August 1, 1945 he was one of ultimately just 317 survivors.

Just like Quint, he described the many horrors of being lost at sea. Only, when he recalled the terror of sharks attacking and killing scores of men during the four days that they drifted, helplessly at sea, you knew it was from the perspective of eyes that would never forget and that could still see those moments even if tightly shut.

After listening to his interview, I knew I had to get his book, Out of the Depths.

I did and I just finished reading it. It will make you proud of and grateful to the men and women who gave and are still giving their all for this country.

It is an unashamedly Christian book. If this bothers you, don’t read it. However, you must know that you will be missing out on one of the greatest stories of hope and survival you may ever have the privilege of reading.

Yes, it is a book about sharks, but it has a much, much greater message to tell and I can’t recommend it too highly.

Oh, and later this week, when July 31 and Aug 1 pop up on the calendar, take a moment to count your blessings and know that because of guys like Edgar Harrel and his shipmates and many, many others we have the freedom to engage in our favorite pastimes in one of the greatest countries on the planet.

I love this addiction called urban fly fishin’.

I told him it would be a few days before I could watch it but I would check it out and get back to him. 

Last night, I finally sat down and watched it.

The official run time is one hour and forty minutes but it took me about three hours to get to the end because I keep stopping and rewinding and re-watching and making notes and slow-motioning the action and such. In other words, I thoroughly enjoyed the movie but I also found it to be a great teaching aid which, I hope, will make me a better Bass fisherman.

Sure, half the folks we encounter out there on the urban waters see our fly rods and assume we must be only after trout but the truth of the matter is that we both pull in a surprising number of Bass all season long. I like catching Bass. Everyone I know likes catching Bass. I suspect that even the purists who say otherwise secretly relish hooking into a big ol’ bucketmouth every now and then given the chance. Catching a Bass on the fly is a sure fire way to get your heart pounding and to make the day just a tad better. This film is all about that and more.

Admittedly, I probably don’t have the time or resources to pursue Bass with the same passion as the guys in the film, but I do think I will now be able to better maximize what time I do have on the water using the info I gleaned from this pleasant little movie.

And since much of the action took place in SoCal, I felt like the movie gave me just a bit more of a “home court advantage” then, say some of the programs I might catch on cable or some of the articles I’ve read lately in the the national magazines.

Having guys with both conventional and fly gear in the same boat also made things interesting. You never know what revelation or insight might pop up when you step outside the box.

The section on fishing the weeds, for example, was something I can put to use immediately since we encounter very similar situations in the urban lakes we fish as the summer progresses.

I might even try my hand at tying up a few knockoff “swampmasters” now that I have a better handle on fishing in the slop.

Likewise, though much of the fishing was boat based, and virtually all of our urban fly ventures are shore-based, I felt like I gained a better feel for reading the water and can immediately apply some of the things I watched.

All in all, I would highly recommend this movie. “Just be careful”, as Bill Cosby used to say, “‘cuz you might learn somethin’ while your havin’ so much fun”.

I love this addiction called urban fly fishin’

(Rainbow Trout)