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!