The One That Got Away, Clearlake

It was four-thirty in the morning when the old alarm began howling its normal tune.  Unlike a normal day that would leave you yearning for just a few more minutes of sleep, I was quick to jump out of bed and get started on my day...because today, we were fishing.

Impressed by the custom-rod that was built for him, a neighbor of mine recently asked me to head out to Clearlake for a day of bass fishing.  Having not been on a boat in a few years, I couldn't wait to get out on the water.  With my rods, lunch, and ego in hand, I headed out for an amazing day of fishing.

We met up with our guide and owner of the boat at a local public launch facility. After a brief safety check and a discussion of our tactics for the day, we set off to Rattlesnake Island.

 Once we made it over to Rattlesnake Island, we began casting Sinkos rigged Carolina style into the dense foliage that riddled the shores of this mysterious island.  This setup is simply a rubber worm attached to a weedless worm hook with a bullet weight above the rigging.  Once the worm would settle to the bottom of this murky lake, a slight jigging motion was applied to the rod while reeling up any slack in the line.

After fishing the south end of the island hard for roughly an hour, we moved to the only visible dock on the island in an attempt to lure up some bass with Hula-Poppers.  As we neared the dock and began casting around the rugged structure, a tailless raccoon began playing in and out of the water, and didn't seem to mind our presence.

 After no bites around the Rattlesnake Island dock, or the remainder of the island for that matter, we decided to pull in the lines and move over to another local hot-spot.  I could tell that the owner of the boat was getting a bit frustrated that he had not put us on the fish, however the day was still young.

A short boat-ride away was a smaller island that appeared to be man made.  The jagged rocks looked as though they were placed in an orderly fashion, leaving a small undisturbed haven for the local geese.  We continued to sink our Carolina rigged worms, buzz-baits, and even danced a few more hula-poppers in and out of the brush and rock lined shore.

With a bit of despair from the lack of fish, our captain decided to move us over to one last hot-spot, known by locals as the "keys."  This area of the lake was a residential area that surrounded a network of sloughs.  Houses and docks lined the narrow water-way, and several bass boats could be seen navigating their way throughout the channels.

As we entered the first channel, our guide was the first to hook-up with a nice bass, that was in the three to five pound range.  He picked up the bass only two feet away from the boat, while working a golden brown Sinko on the bottom.  My neighbor landed the fish for our guide, and even removed the hook for him prior to passing the fish over for a quick photo.

Shortly after, the owner of the boat hooked-up his beautiful bass, my neighbor started getting a little action of his own.  While working his rubber-worm under a nearby dock, another nice sized bass decided to give him a run on his ultra-lite rod that wielded four pound test.  With a small amount of effort, he was able to land the bass flawlessly.  Our second fish of the day!

As we continued into turtle slough, our guide hooked up two more nice sized bass.  One of the two spit the hook as he approached the boat, while the other was landed with ease.

While still inside the tranquil turtle slough, the three of us took a break from fishing to enjoy some sandwiches that were packed up by my neighbors wife.  As we continued to enjoy our lunch, my neighbor decided to toss out a small bait hook under a bobber that was covered with a juicy night-crawler, in an attempt to land a crappie or bluegill.

Excited to get back into the bass fishing action, the trolling motor was fired up again as soon as our lunch break was over.  As we slowly headed back out of turtle slough, the rod that my neighbor had left drifting with a bobber behind the boat quickly pulled tight against the side of the boat, bending the tip of the rod into the deep green water.  Standing next to the rod as this happened, I quickly grabbed it as line continued to screech through the bail.  My first thought was that the line was snagged on something, and my quick action would save the rod from going overboard.  However to my surprise, the weight of a large fish along with massive tugs could be felt resonating through the rod.  I knew this fish was big.

The owner of the boat began to follow the fish, in an attempt to not break the flimsy eight-pound test that spooled the line of his bait rod.  After a fifteen minute fight, a large white tail that was about the size of a dinner plate could be seen rolling just a foot under the water.  This fish was huge.  As I continued to fight the large fish, he appeared to give-in, and allowed us to pull him along side the boat.  It was a large cat-fish, probably in the twenty-five pound range.  My neighbor was quick to toss on a pair of gloves, and attempted to noodle the fish out of the water.  As he quickly reached into the gaping mouth of this behemoth cat, the fish thrashed violently, breaking the light test line effortlessly.

Looking back on the fight with this fish, I should have had one of the guys snapping some pictures during our attempt to land the fish.  I though for sure we had him, and photos were the last thing on my mind as this monster ripped line from my reel.

The remainder of the day I was humored by stories of the fish that got away.  "Hey guys, I faked that I was wore out" was repeated by our chuckling guide, as we continued through the network of sloughs.  I couldn't help but laugh, and my two fishing companions couldn't seem happier I had at least hooked something nice.  I was finally able to land a small bass near the point of a camp sight, making this my first and only fish of the day.

All in all, we had a great time out on the water.  It was a perfect day for some fishing, and even though the big one got away, we still had a blast.  Thanks guys for the awesome trip!

Scouting a Tip, Lake Marie

In an attempt to expand my fishing network, I recently became more active is a few local fishing forums.  My goal for the activity was simple; Share my feedback on local fishing holes with other fishermen, expand my social network in an attempt to find a few fishing partners, and most importantly, discover the knowledge passed on by other anglers.

After a local angler posted information on the Skyline Wilderness park, which harbored Lake Marie deep inside its dense surroundings, I knew that I had to check this place out.  After a quick search on Google-Maps, I was quickly able to locate the park.  To my surprise, the park was only a matter of minutes from my house.

As I made my way to the head of the trail that would lead me to Lake Marie, a narrow fenced-in path that directed the trail yielded warnings of Mountain Lions and Rattlesnakes.  With a bit of reluctance, I decided to press on into the beautiful wilderness.

The scenery along the trail was absolutely breathtaking.  Numerous streams and creeks could be seen trickling their way through the lush green forest, and the presence of wildlife was everywhere.

After a good quarter-mile hike from the head of the trail, I came to a Y in the road that yielded a map of the surrounding trails.  There were several grades of trails, that each harbored different scales of difficulty.  Wanting to take the quickest route to the lake, I decided to stay left on the Lake Marie Trail.

As the seven-percent grade of the trail continued up, I could hear the sounds of wild turkeys clucking in the distance.  It would not be until my return down from the lake that I would spot these birds just a few yards off the trail; however my camera had died at this point.

Once I had reached roughly the halfway point of my hike, the wilderness began to weave in and out dense forest and open fields.  Along the way, a cave was nestled deeply in the trail-side rocks.  Still leery from the warnings of Mountain Lions,  I quickly snapped a picture and pressed-on up the trail.

 Growing tired from the up-hill hike towards the lake, I decided to stop for a quick breather and a drink from my water tin.  Looking back in the direction I had started, the tranquil city of Napa could be seen resting peacefully under the cloud covered valley.

As I continued up the two and a half mile trail, another formation in the rocks jutted from the side of an adjacent hill.  The rocks looked as though they had been hand carved into the cliff-face, leaving a near perfect excavation of the ground in-between them.

 Pressing on further, the forest was beginning to thicken around me.  The only sounds were that of chirping birds, streams rushing through the bellow valley, and the occasional rustle of a ground-squirrel frolicking from one tree to the next.

Fearing that this up-hill trail through the beautiful Skyline Wilderness area would never end, sunlight finally emerged at the end of the trail.  Gaining a second wind from the "light at the end of the tunnel," I eagerly made my way forward.

But upon my arrival at the lake, a bit of disappointment set in.  Although the gent from the local fishing boards had stated that Lake Marie was a merely an over-sized farm pond, I was still expecting...more.  The steep embankments that surrounded the lake left little access to the waterside.  And even if you did make it down to the water, five-feet of weathered tulies would make landing a fish near impossible.

 After some visual scouting of the lake, a rock formation on the northern side  seemed to be the only place with "comfortable" fishing access.  Once I had made my way across to the formation, I had only about a three-foot opening surrounded by dense shrubbery to cast out.

Bringing only a few night-crawlers, half a dozen minnows, and a few small jigs, I began fishing several methods in an attempt to locate some fish.  Floating my minnows and crawlers at different depths under a slip bobber, the only action to be found was me casting repeatedly into the deep murky lake.  Although the lake was dirty looking from the recent rains, the presence of fish could be felt.  I think it might still be too early in the year though, as not even a bite was received during my small bit of fishing.

After a few hours of effort, and my camera battery dying,  I decided to pack it in for the day.  Being a downhill hike, it was a much quicker out of the wilderness area as opposed to walking in.  I am sure there are fish in this lake, and judging from the distance and difficulty of the hike, I would assume it is not over-fished.  I plan to bring the float tube back in the early summer; hopefully by then the water will have warmed up and made the fish a little more active.

Easter Striper Itch

In my attempt to stay one step ahead of the fish this year, the Lady and I decided to do a little scouting in a local fishing hole.  With the spring Striped Bass run drawing near, we couldn't wait to get a line out in the water.  After a nice Easter breakfast and the morning chores done, we loaded up the truck and headed out.

As with most early holiday mornings, the once bustling traffic of the city had all but ceased.  It was almost eerie driving with so few cars in sight, as the roads here are often riddled with vehicles driving a few feet from each others bumper.  To our surprise however, we did encounter one small traffic jam as we made our way down to Kennedy Park; one of my favorite bank fishing locations.

As we climbed out of the pickup, the warm California sun was accompanied by a much welcomed soft spring breeze.  Once the gear was unloaded, we walked down the quarter-mile trail leading to a nice flat that is accessible only by  climbing down a steep dirt trail.  Previous fishermen have dug make-shift holes in the dense ground, but traversing up and down can still prove challenging.  After heading down first to drop off the gear, I came back to assist my photographer and fishing companion down the rugged terrain.

The tide was low when we arrived, exposing portions of the river that can only be seen twice a day during an outgoing tide.  And with such little breeze, the mirror-like water was only disturbed by by drifting birds and the occasional splash from the jumping fish.

Back when the fall Striper run heated up, I started catching bait as opposed to buying it from the local fishing shop.  I had learned that the Mudsuckers were packed tight in this narrow stretch of the river, and the bass were feasting vigorously on them.  Using a small  pan-fish style rig, "single hook at the end of your line with a split-shot weight about six inches up," I would bait the the single-hook with a large red-worm and cast it five to ten feet out.  Within seconds the light peck from these bottom feeders could be felt recoiling through my rod.  Keeping in mind that a hook-set could send one of these bait-fish flying out of the water towards me, a  simple turn of the reel would be enough to lip-hook one.  They were plentiful to say the least.



Maybe it was the spring rains, or the cooler water temperatures due to the time of year; but whatever it was, the bait was not here today.  After a good thirty minutes without even a nibble, I was getting discouraged by the lack of bait in the water.  One thing about fish that I have learned over the years is that they always follow the food.  Knowing that there was little to no bait in the water, I decided to thaw out a frozen Mudsucker that I had saved from the fall run.  I brought it along in a small Ziploc container, just in case we couldn't catch any bait. 

 

While waiting for the still frozen bait-fish to thaw out, I happened to notice an older gentleman making his way down the nearby bank, accompanied by a loyal companion.  His Yellow Labrador was darting and bounding as he excitedly made his way down to the riverside in search of the stick his owner had just thrown.  After making it down to the riverside, the older gent noticed that a few yards away, I had lines in the water.  He abruptly called his dog, and headed back up the steep embankment.  While most dog owners in this park will not respect the fact that someone is fishing nearby, and allow their pet to disturb the water, the occasional person will still surprise me.  It seems rare to fine people who still respect others in this part of the world.

Once the defrosted Mudsucker had enough flexibility to bend effortlessly, I lip-hooked the fish with a size six bait hook.  After lining up the correct distance between my weight and the tip of my rod, I sent the two-ounces of weight along with lifeless sucker into the hole that landed me several hogs last fall.

Before setting the rod down into the holder that was nestled snugly in the ground, I reeled out the remaining slack in the line while setting the bait-runner.  I was finally able to get some much-needed time in with my lovely photographer.  While most of my fishing is done alone, the company of my fishing companion was very welcomed.  Its just comforting having someone to talk to while your enjoying the outdoors, and all it has to offer.  As we continued to try and snap a few photos for the blog, I couldn't help but keep my eyes on my rod.

After a good hour of taking in the scenery, a quick jolt of the rod-tip followed by an explosion of line running out of the bait-runner sent me flying from my green canvas chair.

Once I had the rod in my hands, the powerful fish had dropped the bait; leaving me holding the fishing-pole for a good ten minutes in hopes of his return.  After the long anticipated wait, I decided to reel in and check the status of my bait.  To my surprise, the hearty sucker had survived the massive hit with only a little tearing in the skin where he was hooked.

As with most scouting trips, we wanted to keep it short and sweet.  We were able to get out and test the waters while enjoying the warm riverside scenery.  After a bit of consulting with my companion, we decided to pack up in a attempt to get an early start on out Easter dinner.  While loading up the gear, we happened to notice a few natives, enjoying some inland California surfing. 

It looks like next weekend we will have to check the status of the spring Stripers again.  While anglers have a general idea of when the run happens, pin-pointing the exact day is near impossible.  I will continue to wait patiently for their return, during my hunt for Moby-Striper, whom has eluded me for so long.

Until next time, tight lines!