You'll be just fine America, once we bring back the good old days

Lobster report for January 16, 2010

FISHING REPORT FOR JANUARY 16^th, 2010

     Larry, Dennis and I went to Catalina on Larry’s new Parker 28 on Saturday afternoon to try and hoop up some lobster before the storm came in.  It was a smooth ride out and we were at the island by the low tide at 4:22 pm.  We baited Promar Ambush, Eclipse, and Danielson nets and had them in for a soak by 5 pm before a 5:22 sunset on a moonless evening.  The standard 100-foot lines were all set in 75 to 90 feet and we had three long lines down between 100 and 150.  Water temperature was 59.8, the wind waves were down to nothing, and air temperature was warmer than we expected.

     We lost a weighted, small-float, deep-rigged Ambush to a combination of seal joyriding or tidal movement right off the bat. We spent some time in a futile  effort to snag the gear with a jig that broke off when we momentarily had it close to the boat in deep water beyond a steep shelf.  This adventure made for a long initial soak when we picked up the remaining set of nine after 7 pm.

     This was my first opportunity to use Larry’s auto-puller, which is the third generation of a design that Larry has been testing.  It is called the Bagram, after its inventor-builder.

    It consists of a pipe-framed arm which extends a suspended pulley through which you pull the line before feeding it around another shaft-mounted wheel and then looping back up to take in the line from the top of a powered fly-wheel.  The large sliding floats are rigged to leave slack in the counter-weighted tag end of the line.  By pulling the float back to the weighted end, you can feed that length of slack through the wheels before hitting the power switch.  This allows you to start the ascent without yanking around the mainline first and spooking the bugs.  At first, this notion about slack turned out to be more theoretical for me than intended, but I got better.  The swift tidal current defeated some of our program by pulling the float to the lead counterweights on the tag end of the line past the sliding float

      The heaviest movement of the tide hit about 6:30 pm, which was when it started actually getting dark.  We pulled 7 legals out of the first set as the tide began running hard.  We also pulled 30 shorts. Three of the hoops had 7 or more in them as they came over the side.  We sent the hoops right back down as soon as we got them emptied out, not realizing that the tide was now running much faster than when we had placed them at slack tide.

     We hit the set again when we noticed that several of the floats weren’t sailing correctly and seemed to be migrating.  Several of the hoops were not in contact with the bottom as the buoys drifted. The situation was compounded by seals grabbing the small float above the hoop.  They would drag the net out as they tried to get at the bait.  We had one bait cage get pulled off, but we had a half-size spare cage.  The upshot is that until we figured out the situation, we made a couple of sets that resulted in chasing down mostly empty nets during the big tide movement.

     Until high tide at 10:45 pm, we had a very slow four hours during which we pulled in one more legal and 20 more shorts.  Shortly after the high tide slack, we dropped a longer soaking set at 55 to 75 feet, with the two deep rigs in about 115 feet.  We started getting a few more to keep us stoked on making more drops until we made a couple of final sets that cashed in on a post midnight crawl.  We had 17 legals before we pulled up our last set after 2 am for two more.  We were too beat to hang out for any more sets and figured 19 was enough.  The size ranged from barely legal to four pounds.  We had six nice ones that all looked over three. We caught well over 50 shorts. There was no obvious advantage demonstrated in favor of  Eclipse, Ambush, or Danielson rigs on this trip.

     Larry’s twin 250 four strokers got us home in about 35 minutes on a calm and clear ride back to San Pedro.

     I got home at 5:30 am with six live lobsters (one short of a limit) in the ice chest.  I showered and fell into bed ten minutes later. When she woke me up at 7:30am, Wendy Jo suggested that I was a pussy for not toughing it out long enough to bag that seventh lobster, but we invited our neighbors over for surf and turf anyway.

     The kids always like to see the live ones, but Tommy and Davey grew concerned that we weren’t doing enough to protect their totally fearless G. I. Joes, who deployed onshore to bring guns and butter to these uncivilized invaders.

          Isaac gave them even more cause for alarm when he threatened to air drop a couple of the biggest roaches behind our lines.  The boys asked us to pull their guys.

              Fortunately, our brave fighting men were victorious.  They joined with us to celebrate their conquest and our consumption of the enemy.

       These are the days    

Catalina Halibut 2010

Fish Report for June 2010

     This report really starts with the last Saturday in May, when Kevin Sage and I took the Fish Finder out in the early morning to try and coax up some local white sea bass.  The weather forecast was for a 7 to 10 foot south swell and westerly winds building to 25 knots.  After we turned the corner to the west after loading up a scoop of really nice anchovies mixed with a few dines from Everingham’s in Dana, we found ourselves in offshore wind conditions that pushed us up toward Laguna. Big south sets rolled into the beach with the spray blowing back off the breakers as the surfers got stoked.  With the forecast for a big wind change, we decided to stay close and cheat toward the west, rather than heading down toward Cottons.

    We bounce-balled in 50 to 70 feet of 63 degree water outside the kelp at Dana Strand and Salt Creek Beaches for nada with squid and sardines. No one seemed to be doing any good and the current ran from stern to bow for the boats trying to anchor up.

     Eventually, the wind started to blow in the opposite direction and steadily gained force.  We were then able to anchor up with the stern into the kelp in about 50 feet of water in front of the Ritz.  We caught bass and mackerel deep in the kelp before I hung a legal halibut on a split-shotted anchovy on a wire hook tied into a 30 inch shot of 20 pound fluorocarbon over 30 pound spectra.  The fish went about 9 pounds and was a pleasant surprise on a pretty slow day. 

     We thought the tide might be turning for us when one of our whole squid on the bottom screamed line off the reel.  We had the perfect kelp-cutter rig and I felt like I was doing a great job of sawing it free, stalk by stalk, from where it had burrowed into the forest. As soon as I allowed myself to think that it might be the WSB we were targeting, or the mother of the halibut we had boated, it revealed itself as just a thirty-pound Batman that pulled like a tractor.  We gave it an honest effort past noon and got off the water as conditions deteriorated from the west.

    We all had halibut for dinner that night, as well as the following day, when the wind blew 30 out of the northwest and closed the ocean off to everybody.

     On Friday, June 4^th, I joined the Sage brothers, Kim and Kevin, along with their buddy Ed Sidelinger in San Diego.  We took the Sages 36 foot Egg Harbor, Fiji Girl, to fish the Southwestern Yacht Club halibut tournament the following day.   We had great conditions, a beautiful tank full of big, seasoned sardines from Everingham Brothers and 64 degree water as we headed out to South Coronado Island.  We caught some junk that night in clear water that was most noticeable for the complete absence of current.  It was easy to hold straight up and down with ½ and ounce of lead, with a bounce ball rig behaving like an anchor.  When the current changed (slightly), Ed hooked and landed a nice 8-10 pound halibut on light gear and we thought the bite was on.  It wasn’t.  That was the only one we got.  We spent the rest of the morning drifting different beaches at the islands and middle grounds before slow-trolling some mackerel where the yellows had been popping up and sinking out below the birds.  We got one short bite and that was it.

      When we got in for the weigh-in, it became clear the real action was off Imperial Beach in 40 feet of dirty water where it mingled with a red tide at the river mouth.  The ticket was fishing big ‘dines and mackerel just off the bottom.  Many guys had several legal halibut. The winner weighed 18 pounds.  There were even a couple of brute yellowtail (32 and 34 pounds) that bit the halibut rigs.  That bite went on for over a week and may still be happening as I type this.

       On June 10, Isaac and I joined Larry Marks on board his 28 foot Parker, Legal Limit, to head out in big seas and strong winds to fish Catalina.  Prepared for the worst, we had a pretty uneventful channel crossing against a westerly wind and swell.  After picking up a sparse 50-piece scoop of live squid (despite a 20 buck tip) from the Carnage off Avalon, we set up around 6 pm at the Palisades in about 80 feet of water over some pretty good marks.  There were a couple of light boats and small private boaters to the east of us in the 64 degree water.  As the evening wore on, the area between the Vees to the east and a bit to the west of us filled in with arriving sea bass fishermen.  The current ran uphill, but not that hard.  There was a lot of bait in the water as the squid boats lit up the island.  We had no boats inside of us.  The bite did not happen for any one we were aware of as we fished multiple rods with short flouro top shots over Spectra tied off to white jigs, lead-heads, sliders and dropper loops.  Isaac was able to hit the hay, while Larry and I fished hard all night, getting only pecking perch, mackerel and a bat-ray that got us excited for a few moments before giving us some tangles with which to busy ourselves as the darkness dragged on.

     At 4 am, the wind, which had been blowing out of the west in a traditional way, changed abruptly and started blowing us to the west.  All of the boats swung completely around.  The wind was noticeably colder. At about 4:30 am, I got slammed on my newly wrapped 8 ½ foot Pacific Bay graphite stick while bouncing a white Christy 2, which I had sweetened with two squid. The fish came to the boat after a few head-shakes and short runs.  Larry laid a perfect head shot with the gaff as we got a nice halibut over the rail and into the fish box about a minute before it went Berzerko and tried to break out of its fiberglass mausoleum.  The noise woke Isaac up, and he joined us on the deck. We thought maybe the tide and current might fire up the bite, but as gray light gave way to daytime, more boats fired up their motors and decided to look elsewhere. We did too.

     We worked our way up west, fishing various spot where we thought we might scare up a yellowtail.  The southeast wind picked up and the current really did not get going.  We threw every kind of bait that we were able to make – big sardines, Spanish mackerel, greenback mackerel and squid, as well as jigs and slugs, but it was slow going.  We slid on a bird pile outside of West Cove and I got stopped on a deep cranked Salas 6x Jr. I fired toward breaking bait.  It turned out to be a horse mackerel.

            We finished up the day catching calico bass on the front side, with the most productive spot being near the Red 2 buoy at the Isthmus.  By the end of the day, we were all pretty tired.  I was also pretty sick of fishing spectra with such a short topshot of mono.

          The ride back was kind of sloppy/lumpy as the wind blew harder and crossed up with the west swell. We were back by 4 pm on a trip that lasted about 24 hours.  I did not get the impression that others had much better luck than we did on Saturday.

          Here is a picture of the halibut.  It taped out at 37 inches and weighed 20.7 pounds on Larry’s digital scale. The green water has produced halibut on each trip so far this season. When I got in, I heard that the bluefin and albacore are starting to bite down south, so I am looking forward to spooling more mono onto my reels and heading for blue water. 


These are the Days

Rat shoot

Well, there has not been much to report.  Tuna fishing was a major bust, other than one successful albacore trip in July followed by half a dozen high mileage trips to skunkville in the offshore waters off San Diego for the remainder of the season. I did not get out for the quail opener and I have not made it out for any pheasant shooting at any of the local clubs, much to the dismay of our pointer, Victor the Magnificent.  We have not made it out for lobster season and the word is that the scene is getting more aggressive than fun at our favorite spots anyway.

     On Sunday, October 24th, we returned from a visit to Wendy's folks in Long Beach to our rain soaked residence.  We had recently experienced signs of rat activity on the roof.  We had set traps and purchased those electronic devices designed to make the rats leave the wall spaces where they have been making noises adjacent to Lizzy's bedroom near the roof connection that seemed to be a point of access.

     When we went to the side yard to take out the trash cans for the Monday pick up, Isaac noticed a rat near the roof gutter on that side of the house.

      We quickly sprung into action.  I went upstairs to remove our trusty .22 pellet guns from their place of locked storage and silently pushed past the  neighbor cub scout  and his father who appeared at our front door to solicit funds at this very moment of invasion.  Perhaps our armed rudeness startled him, but we left Wendy to deal with them in a more civilized fashion.

       Isaac and I cocked and loaded our single shot pest control devices and lined up simultaneous shots when the rat poked his head out.  Both shots made one sound as we counted down to achieve a double hit.

     I climbed up a ladder to remove the first course of roof tile when we heard another one scuttling along a barge rafter to the edge metal below the tile.  He stuck his head out and we lined up another quick shot that ended his curiosity.  We got one more in a 15 minute killing spree.

     We all hate rats, but usually catch them in traps, which is gratifying, but not nearly so cool as taking them down in real time with the family tools of the trade.  The little boys (Tommy and Davey) were  impressed with our marksmanship, the girls were horrified, but grateful, and the cub scout learned a bit of suburban game craft that may come in handy against a common enemy.

      We have recently gone into an experimentation with a vegan lifestyle, so our victims were not treated in the usual culinary fashion we apply to creatures we shoot, but it was a great day just the same.

Here is shot straight out of Fred MacMurrays suburban dream.  Find your fun where you can, because

These are the days

Four Winds pheasant 2008

Today I snuck Isaac out of school to go hunting while his mother and the
rest of the kids were in New York with the Pope.
       We hunted the Four Winds Pheasant Club in San Jacinto with our
trusty pointer, Victor.  It was Isaac's first hunting excursion and he did
really well.  We had the entire facility to ourselves.  We were greeted by
Lee and her husband Ruben, who gave us our field and essentially, the run of
the whole club.  There was no wind and it got hot early.  The grass was
pretty high and there were foxtails in many of the fields, which made it
hard on our metropolitan dog, so we stuck with the greenest field closest to
the shack. The shack is virtually obscured by swarms of flies the size of
Milk Duds.
       Early into the hunt, Victor pointed on several birds that flushed so
perfectly that we had to let them get away, though our guns were blazing at
the empty spots adjacent to the fleeing creatures. One of the pheasants that
escaped our warning shots was snagged by a huge red-tailed hawk that left us
the head of that rooster, just to show us who the real hunters were.
       We started to settle down and hit our targets (mostly chukar).
Victor got pretty winded and was gagging on brush after a few passes through
the field, even though we kept him watered down.  After a while, we put him
in the shade with some cool water and started exploring adjacent fields that
burped out a few more stray birds onto the gravel road between the fields,
where we spotted them and gave chase.  Isaac did a good job of spotting
birds and made some excellent shots with his 20 gauge auto. Being less of a
sportsman, I went with the double 12 gauge Weatherby, which I had the good
sense to modify by welding on a bayonet lug.  I found I was more accurate at
that range.  Once they are impaled on the end of the blade, you really can't
miss them when you pull the trigger.

    
   Ruben and Lee were very patient with us hanging around the fields to
pick off stragglers. They did a great job of cleaning our birds, as our
exhausted dog watched their satellite TV with an ice bag on his head and
sucked on a large tropical cocktail. While our hosts and dog were so
occupied, Isaac and I uploaded slugs and snuck over the barbed wire to try
and shoot one of the dairy cows from the next ranch over so we could have a
mixed grill.  The dairy farmer got pissed, even though I showed him the cow
stamp on the back of my hunting license.  The guy was a real grouch about
it, so we decided to let him keep his damned cow.  Like he doesn't already
have enough.  I am not sure we could have got it onto the roof rack anyway,
because we were pretty tired from the dogless chasing of dangerous birds.
When we got home, Victor got a nice scented bath and massage.  He is now
reclining on his dog bed with an FDR style cigarette holder as I type this
report.
 Tomorrow evening, we are forcing our neighbors to come over to eat some of
the jumbo squid and tunas we have previously slain, along with smoked
chuckar and roasted pheasant now marinating in anticipation of their own
invitation to this feed.
       We only feed our neighbors things that we kill, which is why that
cow would have really balanced the meal.  Better than that
missing-cat-casserole we had to whip up for the neighbors when the fish
didn't bite before the last barbecue.  I didn't have the heart to tell them
just to take down the sign taped to the gate, offering that reward, with no
questions asked.  They did get some of it back, along with the sherbet we
fed them after the meal to cleanse their palates.  Good times.
These are the days.

pheasant and chupacabra 2007

Bob Carlson, his son John and their dog Cole joined my son Isaac, our dog Victor and I on a pheasant hunting trip to the Four Winds Pheasant Club in San Jacinto to kick off this years upland bird club season.

     The weather was seasonally appropriate - with temperatures just below freezing to start off the sunrise, followed by the beginning of a Santa Ana wind that brought clear skies and a warming breeze by mid-day.

      It was Cole's first hunting excursion.  He is a tall, one year old black lab pup that displayed all of the youthful enthusiasm and easy distraction one expects from a learning dog.  He followed Victor around as Victor did a good job of tracking, stalking and holding point on lively birds that didn't want to stay put.  Victor's stamina was noticeably better than last year, when he was benched as a result of inhaling a foxtail early into the hunt. This time, we took frequent breaks so that he could recharge his nose and his enthusiasm.

      We also fared better as shooters on this occasion.  We were able to get all 12 birds that flushed for us, which was a significant improvement over the birds that escaped our hail of gunfire on the last hunt we were on.

      This was Isaacs second time shooting at live targets and he is getting much steadier.  He is now over 100 pounds and is long enough to handle the full size Berretta 12 gauge auto I brought our for him to try.  He mostly stuck with his 20 gauge Remington auto in the field, since it is a really quick swing.

      After we got our birds, we were able to relax and shoot some trap

with the club's clay thrower while our charming hostess Melanie cleaned our birds. She did a great job and was as friendly and helpful as ever, stopping in to check on us while we took tailgate breaks back at the truck in between walks.

      When we got home, we gave Victor and our car a much needed bath, before I set into a frantic "iron chef" cooking assault to prepare the six pheasant we took home for the neighbors and my folks.  I prepared the birds a few different ways. I even got my mom, who professes to hate the idea of hunting, to wolf down a few platefuls and then take home some more in a foil doggy pouch.

      We were too tired to clean the guns, which I left out so the three year old boys would have something with which to distract themselves while the adults enjoyed after-dinner beverages in the warm Santa Ana night.  This turned out to be fortuitous, because the hill behind our house began to give off some eerie noises.  The little boys got quite scared, because they recognized the sounds as the peculiar yip of coyotes, which they fear as a neighborhood animal that is perfectly willing to eat them.

      They began crying for me to get the guns out of the cases and shoot the coyotes.  We were knocking back our fifth bottle of excellent cabernet, but the boys' pleas were so urgent that I found it hard to resist, especially when they dragged my double Weatherby out to the table on the porch where all of the adults were gathered around our portable Mexican fireplace.  It was so cute - it took both of them to carry it out to us.

      Although I was beat, I didn't want to let the young ones down.  Even Wendy wanted me to do something about those annoying predators, although they have done some good in terms of harvesting our neighbors small and less desirable pets.

      I went back to the garage, where I have a commercial freezer.  I took out a couple of vacuum sealed freeze-dried dead monkeys from the supply that we always keep around to bait predators.  They are an excellent universal bait – equally effective on land and sea - especially the ones we marinate in garlic cheese sauce.  Everyone knows that dogs love cheese, so cheese flavored monkeys are

a natural.

       I hydrated and thawed them out a bit over the chimney of our portable fireplace, which seemed to turn off some of the wives who previously had been acting kind of frisky, since "Desperate Housewives" was on later that evening. I hopped the fence and hung

the primates by their tails (these were new world monkeys) from a wooden cross bar we have mounted about 40 yards up the slope past our back fence.

      I duct-taped a flashlight to the gun barrels and waited, with my two fascinated three year-olds laying in the dirt by my side, whispering their inquiries so as not to spoil our chances amidst the darkness of this ambush.

      The coyotes came skulking in, but then scattered before they were in range. We heard a low, moaning sound and saw a much bigger shadow heading at a peculiar gait toward the bait monkeys.

      I hit the flashlight, even though it was out of effective range.  Just as I did so, a frightened Chupacabra let out a weird bark and retreated from his advance on the bait.

      I turned to scream back down to our group to get them to look up at the creature I had momentarily frozen in the lights.  It had dark, coarse fur and looked like a large, ugly dog with bad teeth.

No one was on the patio.  One of the women shouted through the screen door that "Desperate Housewives" had started and I should come down and watch.  I looked back up the slope and the creature was gone.

      There was nothing to do except come back down the hill with the little ones, who were chattering about the strange creature they had just seen.  They wanted to look it up in their animal picture book.

      I left the monkeys on the post, since once you rehydrate and thaw them out, they really won’t last.

      I sat down and watched the rest of the show as the boys went to bed.  We were the only ones that saw the creature.  It's good to know that there are still a few of them around. It's probably just as

well that we didn't get a shot off.

These are the days.

mammoth area report for 2007

        My 13 year old son Isaac, 16 year old Ryan Downs and I went
fly-fishing on Hot Creek on Thursday.  It was the first time for the boys
and everyone caught quality fish - browns and rainbows - on small size 20
nymphs split-shotted below an indicator. Hot creek is strictly catch and
release on flies with barbless hooks, which enhances the experience and the
"native"
quality of the fish, who are wary of the offerings of the fly fishermen who
constantly ply this water. We were in the canyon below the ranch. The creek
was running great, but the weeds were starting to get a bit thick.  I caught
a 16 inch brown, along with smaller browns and rainbows. All of the fish we
caught were good sized, with most around 12 inches or so and no real dinks.
Isaac ended the day by catching a nice brown all on his own, without the
assistance/direction of our guide, Josh Hueron.  Josh was very knowledgeable
and dedicated, even if he was a bit of a nag about technique. It was a
beginning lesson and he wanted us to appreciate everything at whatever
moment a particular thing needed appreciating. He put us on fish and
dispensed with a lot of lawn-casting practice, so we could maximize our
time.  We went straight to the creek and he taught the boys on the go. He
seemed a little bummed that the fish were not biting as aggressively as they
had been earlier in the week, but we were having a great time, even if we
were a little clumsy. Josh's expertise and help made it a great experience
for all of us and the boys learned more than I could have taught them in
between untying snarls and retying flies (probably the wrong ones). I would
always recommend getting a guide for fly-fishing, especially on the first
day of a multi-day trip. After we finished, we headed off to Grumps for
giant burgers and refreshments.

       Day two - we went to Lake Mary and rented the fanciest pontoon boat
that the Lake Mary Marina had to offer - $225 for four hours. Isaac and I
had reserved it the previous day from the concession when we scouted the
scene at the basin lakes.  I tried to reserve it for the whole day, but no
deal.
I tried to get a deal on renting two pontoon boats over the course of a day,
but had to pay for two separate half day rates.  I couldn't even get them to
throw in a free rental net, which turned out to be just as small as my
stream net anyway.  I bought some lures and bait from the shop and observed
that no one else was getting any kind of deal from these somewhat
wieneresque guys who worked at the marina.

   We had ten people, so the seating room on the expensive boat was
appreciated.  We trolled needlefish and kokanee lures 4 to 5 colors down to
catch a lot of planter sized rainbows. I brought my portable depth
finder/fish finder, which really made it easy to find the fish, most of
which were holding at 28 to 35 feet in anywhere from 30 to 60 feet of depth.
Several of the kids, including my twin three year olds, Tommy and Davie,
caught their first trout.

       We were off the lake by 11.  We went back to town and scarfed like
pigs.
Wendy and Annie stayed back at Annie's massive house in Mammoth with the
napping little boys. I took the five older kids back for another more
standard pontoon boat that we had reserved for the 3:30 to 7:30 pm time
slot.  This one cost $165 for four hours and actually fished better than the
fancier one, which had a CD player, but less access to the rail in the
stern.

       At this point we knew where the fish were, but could not make bottom
there with the 30 foot anchor lines that boat had. The kids wanted to throw
the light rigs and bait fish. We used the depth finder to anchor up in 28
feet of water at a spot where the wind pushed us toward the drop off at the
end of the lake closest to the outlet.  We threw toward the deeper water
where we had metered many fish, but they  also swarmed beneath us in the
shallower water from time to time.  We creamed the trout on inflated night
crawlers on #10 hooks, tied to five feet of 2# test fluorocarbon below a
sliding water-filled bubble, with a swivel stop at the top of the leader.
This set-up casts well and sinks slowly through the water column and the
zone where the fish are feeding. We caught browns, brooks and rainbows and
released all that were not damaged.  We ended up keeping eight and releasing
many more. I got to practice my knot tying skills quite a bit on Friday.

       We left that spot and headed back with the trolling lines back out.
We picked up a few more on the troll, which was easier on the release
because we were mouth hooking the fish on lures with single hooks. We were
twenty-five minutes late bringing back the boat, as we ended up chasing down
a floater that we had released.  Isaac was able to revive it and the kids
all cheered as it eventually swam away from Isaac's resuscitation efforts.
After we got our deposit back and were loading our gear up in the parking
lot, the surly marina attendant (not the nicer guy who had been there all
day) yelled for me to come back down to the shop.  He allowed me to wait
while he took a phone call and then demanded another $75 from me for being
late as he waited for one more boat to return (we were not the last boat
in).  I gave him the dough without another word and decided, after spending
close to 500 bucks there that day, that next time I would try the other
concession across the lake (Pokonobe), which seemed to have nicer pontoon
boats.  We decided that the motto of the Lake Mary Marina should be "We
aren't the only fishing concession on the lake.  We just act like we are."

       Saturday, we took the day off from fishing and went to the Devils
Post Pile.  Wendy and Annie took the little boys back from there and I took
the older kids to Rainbow falls and Red's Meadows, where the end of a long
hike was met with the best ice cream we ever ate and a beautiful bus ride
back.
The San Joaquin was running full, cold, and clear and the falls were right
out of the postcards.

       Sunday was our day to leave, but everyone was sleeping in from a
gluttonous
13 year birthday celebration for Whitney Downs at Robertos.  Isaac and I
snuck out for one last try at Lake Mary without the company of all of the
sleepers who had had enough of early rising to catch fish.  We decided that
since we only had an hour and a half to fish, that we would go big on the
lures. Neither marina was open early. We rented a small boat at about 7:50
from the very friendly and helpful guy (Lou) at the Pokanobe Resort.  We
trolled bigger lures 5 to 6 colors down.

       We could hardly go more than a hundred yards without getting bit on
a large Mepps Syclops.  We caught and released several nice sized trout and
then Isaac got one that took a lot of line and ended up almost straight down
in 70 feet of water.  He gradually brought it up and we decided that we had
to keep that one, which taped out at 21 and 1/2 inches.  It was Isaac's
biggest trout to date. It was a bright, beautiful fish, with all of its fins
and tail perfectly intact. We decided to head in, since the rest of our
group would be stirring and we had a big breakfast date at The Stove that
morning.
        
       On the way in, I got bit again and an even fatter rainbow screamed
off line and fought at the surface, jumping several times at long distance
and circling the boat as we tired him out.  The gold single siwash hook
Syclops was red hot that morning and has always been a producer for me.  We
were in by 9:15 and Lou came out to see if there was something wrong with
the boat because we had come in so quickly. We explained that the fishing
Gods had been so good to us that we had to quit early to preserve our karma.
We showed him our fish and he took our picture. There was a Sunday morning
service in progress on the large outdoor deck at the resort.  We walked
right beneath it as we  came down the dock and momentarily distracted the
flock from their devotions.
 
       These are the days.