Rock-Fishing Cruise: The Farallon Islands

In an earlier blog post, I visited Santa Cruz in search of a limit of rockfish. The results were not as good as I had hoped, especially compared to my previous fishing trip to the Farallon Islands where schools of rockfish were thick, so thick that I couldn't drop my line down without pulling up two two-pound rockfish. Yesterday, an extremely generous man nicknamed "Lord of Lingcod" (LoL) took me (not my dad) to the land of rockfish paradise. That paradise is called the Farallon Islands.

The biggest rockfish of the day

The Farallon Islands are about two hours off the coast of San Francisco. The area known as the Farallons are made up of two major islands, the North and South Island. In between and around those islands, deep trenches hold swirling schools of rockfish. Below those schools a large fish known as the lingcod sits sullenly on the bottom.

LoL started the drive to Emeryville at 4:10 A.M.  In the car sat LoL, his friend from college "Jackpot", and me. After an hour of driving, all three of us piled out of the car and met up with LoL's brother "Lendy Lingcod" (LL). The four of us walked down to the dock until we came upon the boat Sea Wolf. Within minutes, we had all got our gear and reserved a seat in the cabin. A couple of minutes after that, we left the dock and embarked on the three hour pilgrimage to the Farallon Islands.

Picture with two of the lingcod 

The ride to the Islands was smooth.  Soon twenty-two excited fisherman crowded the rails of the Sea Wolf each looking for their limit of tasty rockfish. LoL, Jackpot, Tom, and I were clustered at the bow ready for action. Tom was the only one who had a lingcod lure on his line. The "lure" was basically a six-ounce bar of lead with a hook attached, but hey, it catches fish. LoL, Jackpot, and I stuck with the generic double shrimp fly tipped with squid. Dropping the offerings down 180 ft. was a snap with our one-pound sinkers. Soon, all of us hit bottom. I immediately hooked up with a double rock fish strike. Feeling good, I looked around the boat to see how other people were doing. What I saw was shocking. Several people were hunched over bent rods, grimaces of pain on their faces. The boat had just drifted over a school of lingcod.

There are two types of fish most people bring up from the depths. There is the normal rockfish, and there are lingcod. Bringing up a lingcod from the depths is similar to battling a large halibut. It is physically and mentally taxing.  There is often a long battle before an angler gets a glimpse of his/her's catch. Back to the story.

The lingcod that I caught myself

The day proceeded to yield triple limits of lingcod for the skilled angler (limit of lingcod is two). LL had long ago reached his limit and was giving lingcod away to the less fortunate few. LoL was also at his limit with two keeper lingcod and shakers that he let swim free.  Jackpot had a large lingcod and was arguing with LL about who's fish was bigger.

The limit of rockfish and lingcod

Then there's me. At the time, I had almost twice as many rockfish than many people on the boat. I had double limited out (limit for rockfish is ten) and  could not keep the rockfish off the hook. But, I was not satisfied. Without any specialized lingcod gear for myself I was stuck to watching in envy as LoL and LL pull in giant lingcod after giant lingcod. I was getting frustrated. Pinning on two live anchovies I dropped my rockfish rig down to the bottom, where I felt a solid thump. It was bigger than any fish I had felt on that trip. Excited, I settled in for the fight. A couple of minutes later, the fish was at the surface. It was a twenty-inch lingcod, my first lingcod ever. Pulling it up for a picture I measured the fish, deemed it under the size limit, and threw it back in. Maybe someday I'll catch it when it's bigger.

Cheers! My fellow fisherman with their catches

In the end, the entire boat limited out on lingcod and rockfish. It was one of those days that you read about in a fishing magazine, except our picture is out on the front cover. It was a truly special day, one that I will remember forever.



However, I would like to thank "Lord of Lingcod"for taking me out on this trip. Had he not decided to burden himself with taking me, I would never have had this experience. I have gone rock fishing at the Farallon Islands three times and he has taken me each time. He is a truly special guy and I think he is a model for many people who want to provide a child with the opportunity for a fishing trip that will be remembered forever.

Another pic. of the two lingcod

LoL and me on the Sea Wolf

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Sierra Adventure: Graph of Fish Catches

The graph above is the summary of my family's trip to the Sierras. Conway Ranch is not included due to the fact that trout are heavily stocked in the areas we were fishing.

Individual reports:

• May Lake in Yosemite National Park - brook trout mania
• San Joaquin near Devil's Postpile National Park - wild trout dry fly
• Hot Creek and Crowley Lake - big brown trout on fly rod
• San Joaquin and Tuolumne River in Yosemite National Park - dry fly action continues
• Yosemite National Park small creek fishing - eleven wild trout in one hour

 

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Sierra Adventure: Conway Ranch - The Last Episode

A giant rainbow

Here it is, the last episode of the season. In just a few days I will be heading back to school, where I will be busy with homework. Over the summer, I have documented my many adventures in the form of a blog. Although I will continue to make entries, the posts will be far and few between. Still, I have one last adventure from my time in the Sierras for you.

The family posing with my sister's fish

The entire time my family has been in the Sierras there was one place that was always in the back of our minds. That place was Conway Ranch. Conway is the home of the legendary Alpers Trout, a modified version of the rainbow trout that fights harder and grows bigger than the average rainbow. The Ranch grows the trout to be shipped over the Eastern Sierra, but they also have a couple ponds which they stock with the trout they raise. We were about to go to one of those ponds.

Me fighting a fish

My family arrived at Conway Ranch at 11:00 A.M. There we signed the necessary paperwork, and began to set up our rods. I would be using an olive wooly bugger tied onto two pound tippet. My father would be helping my younger sister catch fish with a bobber and bait. As soon I threw my fly into the water, a fish jumped up and snapped my two pound tippet. That was how big the fish were. Switching to four-pound tippet, I cast in again, and hooked up with another Alpers Trout. Meanwhile,  my sister also had a fish on her line. We both landed our fish, and took photos. Over the next hour and-a-half I proceeded to catch six Alpers Trout, my dad caught one, and my sister caught five for a total of eleven Alpers Trout. By the end we all had broken our fair share of lines, and were fatigued. We fed the trout as a chore for the managers, piled into the car, and drove back to the Bay Area. My family ended the Sierra Adventure with a combined total of sixty-one trout, a mix of brook, brown, rainbow, and Alpers trout.

The biggest rainbow of the trip

This trip was a truly remarkable experience for me. It will stay in my mind as the best trout fishing excursion I have taken so far. The amount of fish we caught, the unique places we visited, and the people we met made the entire trip appealing and captivating. Whether it was fishing in a high mountain lake, or pulling a giant brown trout in from a float tube the fishing was special because of the memories that I will take with me from this trip.




However, this trip brings me back to one of the reasons why I started this blog. Many of the places that I have gone to in the past weeks may not stay open for more than ten years. Although the people of today try hard to preserve the lakes for future generations, the future generation may not preserve it for themselves. It's hard to compete for attention with the flashy game console or iPod. Many kids will not get outdoors as much as they need to. They will not make the connections with nature as previous generations have, that leads to the conservation of special places. Fishing was my solution to this problem.  There is something  about fishing that most children instinctually like. Therefore, it is one of the easiest tools a parent can use to get a child familiar with the outdoors. And when a child gets familiar with nature they will want to protect it, like they would an iPod or Xbox. So push yourself to get outside and see what it does for your child.

Preserve Nature!

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Sierra Adventure: Secret Creek

The biggest brook trout for the day

As our grand Sierra Adventure begins to near the end, my dad and I are starting to go to some of the best fishing spots in the area. We have been saving the best for last, but now the best is here. Today, we visit Secret Creek, a small creek that feeds out of a fish rich lake. The creek holds massive amounts of good sized brook trout, along with a abundant supply of mosquitos. However, the creek's small size and delicate fish has prompted my family to keep the creek a secret. My dad and I only fish the creek twice every year and the fish become skittish on the second trip. Without further adue, here is my experience at Secret Creek.

Another nice brookie from this year

On our way back from Tuolumne meadows my dad suggested a stop at Secret Creek. After confirmation from the rest of my family, we turned the car down a dirt road towards the Creek. Arriving at a dirt pullout around 10:00 A.M., I donned my mosquito netting, gloves, jacket, hat, and pants. In the past, I have had twenty mosquitos land on my cotton gloves, stick their mouth through the holes in the cotton, and suck my blood. That does not happen anymore with the correct gear. Back in the present, I held my three-weight fly rod in my right hand. Attached to the leader was a #14 crystal flash wooly bugger. As I dropped my fly into Secret Creek a four-inch brook trout immediately charged it. Unfortunately, a bigger six-inch trout got there first and gobbled my fly up. During the hook-set I pulled the fly out of the fish's mouth. Then a 9-inch trout swam up and grabbed the fly. I landed the nine-inch fish. The brook trout have never seen a fly before, so when something drops into the pool all the fish go for whatever has fallen in. Sometimes, it is my fly. I enjoyed a happy fourty-five minutes, catching ten brook trout and missing many more. My dad caught one with a California mosquito dry fly.

When I said "happy" earlier in my blog, there was one point in which I threw my rod across the meadow in frustration. To understand my pain, we have to travel back one year.
------------
It had been a good half-hour and I had caught eight brook trout with my crystal flash wooly bugger. Now, I dropped my fly into a large pool. I was hanging onto a large boulder with one hand and holding my fly rod with the other. If any fish was to hit, I would just pull it up onto the meadow behind me. Then I saw the fish. It was a lunker of a brook trout. Estimated to be around fourteen-inches from head to tail. It saw my fly, and made a savage lunge. I managed to hook the fish, but could not drag it onto the meadow. I stripped the fly line with my teeth, hoping to tire it out. After half-a-minute the fish turned onto it's side. I tried to drag it onto the meadow, but the brook trout made one last jump. The fly tore free of the mouth, and the fish swam back under the bank.
------------- Back in the present
I can see the same fish from last year. It's about an inch bigger, with a scar on the left side of the mouth. The fish has moved down from the big pool last year, making it possible for me to land it. My cast is perfect, with little splash. The fish makes the savage lunge I remember so well. My hook-set is a little off, but the point digs in. Realizing that it has been hooked, the trout breaches clear out of the water, flops across a dry spot, and dives back into the bigger pool. My fly pops loose from the fish's mouth.

Total catch was 10 fish for Kai, 1 for Dad.

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Sierra Adventure: San Joaquin - Relived + Tuolumne River

Biggest fish of the San Joaquin expedition

Wednesday was our last wild trout fishing in the Eastern Sierra. To end the trip on a good note my dad and I decided to fish the San Joaquin River. However, we experienced some difficulties early in the trip...

My dad and I woke up around 6:00 A.M. to get breakfast at the deli. As we began to cross the shopping square we saw a scary sight on the left. A 300 pound mother black bear and her cub were eating out of an improperly closed trash can. We tried to scare the bears away, but they refused to move, and began to snarl at us. Terrified, my dad began to flee towards the hotel with me right behind him. We took an elevator down to the parking lot, got in the car, and went to a different bakery.

A colorful brown trout

After the bear scare, my dad parked around 6:30. I immediately started to catch fish, but the bite began to heat up with the water temperature. My dad and I were fishing a #20 Parachute Adams and a #28 Caddis. Trout were only hitting very small dry flies the entire day. Also, my dad hiked up and down the river, but only a small stretch produced fish. After five intense hours of fishing my dad and I ended up with a combined total of eleven fish (eight for me, three for dad). There was a mix of brown, brook, and rainbow trout that was caught all on dries before 10:00 A.M.

San Joaquin Fish Total = 20 (9 on day one plus 11 on day 2)
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 Brook trout at San Joaquin

We left the Eastern Sierras on Wednesday, but our fishing adventure continues to be productive in Yosemite Park. One of our first fishing trips in the park was started at Tuolumne River. The river runs East to West through Yosemite's high country. Large populations of small wild trout swim through the Lyell Fork and Dana Fork of the river.

The biggest brown trout caught in San Joaquin

My family left for the Lyell Fork of the Tuolumne river around 10:00 A.M. We were going there mainly for the hike, but there was a fly rod stowed away in my backpack. After a short hike, the Tuolumne River was within sight. After a quick lunch, I proceeded to catch a small brook trout with an olive green wooly bugger. Satisfied, my family returned to the car. 

The following morning my dad and I went to the Dana Fork of the Tuolumne River. Although the early morning was slow, fishing       began to get better as the sun's rays warmed the water. I caught two brook trout while using a bubble-fly combination. There was a small mosquito on the end of the line, but action could have been better if my dad had a smaller fly in his fly-box. 

Tuolumne total = 3

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Sierra Adventure: Hot Creek + Crowley Lake Action

The beginning of the wild trout section of Hot Creek

It's not all about the fish. Any angler has heard that phrase hundreds of times. I had that lesson pounded into me at Hot Creek. The creek is generally regarded as one of California's best wild trout stream. A single mile of the creek contains about 11,000 trout per mile. However the average trout at Hot Creek is caught about five to six times a month. This creates very smart, but very large wild trout. Hearing the praise about Hot Creek, I decided to fish there.

Me and my brown trout that I caught at Crowley

A sixteen-inch brown trout

When we arrived at the stream the first thing I noticed was a giant sign that said, "0 fish limit". Despite the sign I still noticed dozens of anglers trying their luck. At most places I go to people fish for the food, not the fish. However, Hot Creek is a special place where anglers come from miles for just a glimpse of the fish. These anglers are in a special class of people that are hardcore catch and release fishermen. Just being at the river and walking through the meadow was enough for them. Fishing is all about the experience of enjoying the river and the nature around you. Whether you choose to enjoy it or not is up to you. Nevertheless, I hooked a nice sized rainbow with a green wooly bugger. While fighting it against the current, I was just about to net the trout, when the fly popped out of the fish's mouth. Seconds later, it disappeared back into the middle of the creek.

Hot creek

Luckily, I had a chance to redeem myself the following day while fishing at Crowley Lake. The lake is one of the best trout fishing areas in the state. Note that it contains no wild trout. All trout are stocked at fingerling size, and grow about an inch per month due to the abundant food sources in Crowley.

Unfortunately for me, the fish seemed to avoiding my lure. During the past two hours I had been fishing from a float tube with a rainbow pattern Kastmaster attached to four pound test. The hits had been far and few between, and I was getting slightly frustrated. Anglers around me all had at least one fish with their fly rods. In a moment of desperation I switched my spinning rod to a fly rod. The fish soon began to strike the midges I was fishing under a strike indicator. Then a trout grabbed my fly and ran. I set the hook and settled in for the fight. Two intense minutes later a nice sixteen-inch brown trout was netted. I returned to the car a happy angler.

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Sierra Adventure: Wild Dry Fly Action at San Joaquin

The sunrise this morning marked the third day of our trip. Today, my family decided to hit the San Joaquin River. The San Joaquin is a wild trout stream that is boosted with plants of ten to twelve-inch rainbow trout. However, this year the DFG (Department of Fish and Game) had not stocked any rainbows. The result is slightly tougher fishing for wild trout. We had fished there in the past with good results. My dad and I hoped for similar conditions today.

We arrived at Pumice Campground at 7:30 A.M. The air was frigid, and rang with the biting chill of harsh wind. That still did not stop many hikers from showing up in t-shirts and shorts. My family instead opted for warm layers and neoprene waders. As soon as my dad and I walked down to the river, we immediately spotted the rises from small trout. In my hand I held a spinning rod equipped with  split shot and a #8 hook. Salmon eggs were the bait of choice for me. My father instead held a fly rod with a nine-foot tippet on the end. A #22 Parachute Adam dry fly was tied onto the end. Although my dad immediately began to hook up with some trout, I left in search of the big one.

The biggest rainbow of the day

Ten minutes later I found my fish. It was a nice fifteen-inch rainbow trout that had been hiding behind a  large boulder. Zipping a cast upstream I let the salmon eggs drift down to the fish. It stopped the bait and I set the hook. For three minutes I ran up and down the river, vainly trying to land the fish with my four-pound test. Finally I dragged the fish onto a sandy beach. After taking a few photos, I returned downstream ready for some dry fly action.

A wild rainbow

A rainbow trout that my dad caught

My dad had already caught three trout (smaller ones) when I returned. Tying a Parachute Adam onto my three-weight fly rod I cast upstream. Immediately a eight-inch brook trout smacked the fly. That was the type of action my father and I experienced for the next three hours. Finally we ended the day with a combined total of nine trout. A mix of brooks, browns, and rainbows. My family returned to the hotel and soaked in a hot tub talking about the big ones.

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Sierra Adventure: May Lake

Possibly one of the biggest brookies of the trip

As the summer begins to draw to a close, my family is taking one last big fishing trip. We are touring the grand Yosemite park, hiking up granite mountains, and sampling some of the best fishing the Eastern Sierra has to offer. During the week-and-a-half that we will be here I hope to have some historic fishing excursions. To kickstart the trip my dad and I took a two day trip to May Lake, a small lake set up in the high country of Yosemite Park.

One of the fourteen brook trout

To get to May Lake we had to take a short, but strenuous 1.2 mile hike up a steep mountain. Unfortunately, my dad injured his back last month, leaving me to carry most of the gear up. Luckily, I experienced no difficulties hiking up. Once we arrived at the top of the mountain my dad and I quickly set up the tent, and began the first fishing trip of the week. I experienced great action as I pulled in a fish on every cast while fishing power eggs on a #8 hook and four-pound test. However we were driven back to camp as the skies darkened, and rain began to pour.

One of the more colorful fish of the trip

Soon the storm passed, leaving me and my father to resume fishing. I proceeded to catch three more brook trout (my father caught one) within forty-five minutes. Taking two of the fish for dinner, we began to hike back to camp, and prepare dinner. During supper, my dad came down with a serious case of altitude sickness. Pounding headaches and fierce nausea forced him to lie down inside the tent. This left me with plenty of time to fish on my own. The first two hours were tough, as I only caught one fish with a blue and silver Kastmaster. However, as the sun began to dip down below the horizon, fishing picked up. Holding a flashlight between my teeth I caught five good sized brookies, before calling it a night. It was around 9:00 P.M. I slipped into my sleeping bag, and began to sleep.

May Lake

This is where it gets interesting. A big thunderstorm passed overhead dropping buckets of rain onto our tent. Lighting flashed within a quarter mile from where we were sleeping. Thunder kept me up all night, yet my dad slept like a bear in hibernation. Finally, at 5:30 A.M. the storm ceased and I picked up my rod and caught three more brook trout. My dad and I ended the trip with a total of fourteen brook trout, as we hiked back to the parking lot.
Score:
Me: 12 brook trout
Dad: 2 brook trout.
If the trip continues to yield catches like yesterdays, the trip will prove to be one of the best in my life.

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Guest Entry: Smallmouth Fishing for the Young Angler

Today I received a story about the strong memories a father had when he caught his first fish. His excitement on that day was only surpassed when his son caught his first fish.

Jonah gets a helping hand showing off his first fish

When Ian was nine, his family spent a few nights at a summer resort with few activities for the mind of an active child. During dinner he snuck out of the dining room to check out the dock. In his hand he held an uneaten bread roll from the meal. To Ian's surprise he found a simple rig on the dock. It consisted of line wrapped around a rusty tin can. At one end of the line Ian squished some of the bread roll onto the hook. As Ian began to uncoil the line from the can he became doubtful that he would ever catch a fish. As he turned to walk away from the dock, the can began bouncing towards the water. Ian caught the can and pulled on the line. To his amazement a small catfish emerged from the depths and began to flop on the dock. Then it wriggled it's way back into the water. Ecstatic, Ian ran back to his parents and began to recount his tale.

Many years later Ian saw a similar reaction from his son Jonah, as the boy landed the first fish of his life. He and his son had been fishing from a boat in the waters of the Pohick bay, a brackish, tidal area of the Potomac bay. Jonah's pole bent with the first tugs of a smallmouth bass. As Ian looked at his son he felt deep emotions stir within him. In Jonah's eyes there  was only pure happiness and excitement that would continue to last for days.

Sometimes seeing other people catch fish and watching the incoherent excitement and joy on their faces for several hours later beats catching the fish yourself. Having your own personal wins are great, but sharing the moments of widespread happiness with the people you love can create a greater fulfillment.

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Guest Story: Traditional Fishing in Japan

Today, I received an E-mail from Alan Bergman, an avid fisherman who lives in Japan. He brought me a story of family tradition and an example of how fishing can bring generations together.

Alan has three grandchildren: Sara, Rei, and Roi. Both granddaughters, Sara and Rei caught their first fish before they were three years old. They created the tradition of the Bergman family in which every child catches their first fish before the age of three.  As Roi neared the deadline, Alan realized that it was time for his grandson to catch a fish. He began driving Roi to Ozenji, a trout fishing area set in the lush hills of suburban Kawasaki.

Roi with his first fish at Ozenji

When Roi and Alan stopped near Ozenji, they looked up at the sky and observed the dense rain. However, young Roi was undeterred, such was his thirst for fishing. Soon, Alan was helping his grandson Roi attach a delicate olive-green marabou nymph to the pole. With Grandpa's guidance, Roi was soon smoothly casting his setup into the water. With a sudden jolt, the first fish of Roi's life was fighting on the end of the line. Alan gave encouragement and praise as Roi guided the trout to shore. Several fish later, Roi was ready to go home and cook his fish. The family went home with smiles lighting up their faces.

The first fish someone catches will stick in their mind for many years. The fish may grow in weight and evolve into a legend. However, the occasion was unusually special because Roi's grandfather was there to praise him and give encouragement. I actually think that it is fine that Roi's fish were kept. Bringing home fish and eating it extends the celebration and glory of the child's first catch. Children want the recognition and praise from as many people as possible. Glory and praise is part of what makes fishing so enjoyable.

Roi and his cooked catch

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Rockfish at Santa Cruz

A couple of weeks ago, my grandfather and I decided to go on a rockfish fishing trip. While this would be a first time experience for my grandfather, I had gone on a couple boats before. Usually I would convince a friend to take me to the Farallon Islands. There the rockfish swarm in thick schools, where even the most novice angler can make a catch. However, this time my family thought that we would try to fish closer to the house. This prompted us to make reservations with Stagnaro. They own a boat called the Velocity, a sixty-foot fishing boat that operates out of Santa Cruz. At six in the morning the boat left the harbor with fifty fishermen eager to catch fish.

My limit of rockfish at the Farallon islands

The first leg of the voyage consisted of demonstrations and proper rigging etiquette while we journeyed out to the fishing grounds. When we arrived the air was chilly, the wind is strong, and the morale is high. However as my grandfather and I fished throughout the day, it became apparent to me that Santa Cruz and the Farallon Islands were different. One difference was that in Santa Cruz the ocean is shallow, while around the islands the ocean is deep. Unfortunately, the big difference is that the fishing is much worse in Santa Cruz. When I fished in the Farallon Islands I couldn't keep the jumbo fish off the hook. In Santa Cruz I struggled to catch a single fish as my grandfather pulls in two rockfish. However as the day wore on I get an
idea for where the rockfish are holding, and my catch rate improved. We ended the half day trip with a combined total of fifteen rockfish, eight for me and seven for my grandfather.

The grand total (my grandfather and I) of rockfish in Santa Cruz

What I got from this expedition is that no two experiences are the same. Fishing is filled with failure and only a few pockets of success. Your times will be unique as each trip continues to surprise you. The days can be filled with success but eventually there will be a time when you fail, sometimes losing it all. Never fall into a pattern and expect the same thing each time. Be flexible so that you don't dwell on what you have lost, but minimize your loses. If you experience times of failure do not be stunned when good things come your way. Seize the opportunity and use it.

A man and his pelican

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Three Generation of Fishermen

After CC's success my father and grandfather decided to try to catch a trout at lake McAlpine. The lake is located near Santa Cruz. Unfortunately, fishermen have to pay twenty dollars per person to get in. In the morning (7:00 A.M.) it was quite chilly, and a low fog hung over the entire area. I was looking to catch a bass, but had made it no farther than twenty feet when I heard my grandpa shouting. A minute later I netted a trout.  That was the first trout my dad and I had ever caught at Lake McAlpine. We had gone four times before and gotten skunked. Back to the trout. After we put the trout on a stringer the fog burned off. This killed the trout bite. My grandpa, dad, and me (three generations) walked around the lake fishing for bluegill. Hours later we had a combined total of 110 bluegill. I had caught seventy, my dad had caught thirty, and my grandpa had caught 10. All in all it was a good day of bluegill and trout fishing. 

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Explosive Big Bass Action

Right now I am in a Junior Guards program. It takes place five days a week for five weeks. During that time I have to swim to the end of piers and run dozens of miles. What does this mean for my fishing? It means,  I cannot fish!   I am either too tired or I do not have enough time. So now I am relying on other people like CC to supply me with fish to put into my blog.

CC (carnivorous crank bait) has been hitting Boronda lake almost every day. There was eventually a period of warm spells in Palo Alto. At the tail end of the warmer weather CC put some quality time into fishing with his KVD shallow-diving crank bait. His reward was a five-pound fish and a three-pound fish on the first day. Elated, he went home and came back to Boronda. At the end of the day he held a four-pound bass in his hands. After some conversation, I found out what he was using. His reel was spooled with twelve pound test, and he was using a shock rod. The lake had occasional gusts of wind blowing across it, but it was usually placid. Temperatures were about 76 degrees. Lake visibility was about six feet.

Five-pound bass caught on KVD crankbait

Three-pound bass

Four-pound bass

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Awesome Trout Fishing At Yosemite

Summer has brought some great things to me. One of those is my grandparents and aunt. They are visiting from Hawaii for the first time in three years. My parents have been planning activities, and one of those plans was to go to Yosemite. We drove for five hours to get to the park, through winding roads, and sweltering sun. Finally we arrived at the park, and proceeded to view the spectacular waterfalls and the looming, ominous cliffs. Unfortunately, I ate too much food at the Camp Curry buffet, and felt very ill. My dad and aunt went to take pictures of the sunset, while I tried to overcome my nausea. Then my dad called me on my cell phone. Trout were blowing up the surface of the Merced river less than half a mile away from the tent. It was time to shake off my nausea and catch fish.

A thirteen-inch brown trout caught at Merced River (# 3)

We neared the Merced River around 7:45 P.M. I had already rigged up my pole with a silver and blue Kastmaster attached to four-pound test. From forty feet away, I could already see the trout breaching the surface, eating insects. They were all near the middle of the river, inside a current that flowed in a circular motion, bringing the food to them. I cast in my line and hooked a nice fish on my first cast. When I brought it in, I had a nice fourteen inch wild rainbow trout. That may not sound like much, but a fish that big in the wild is massive. There is little food, so wild trout grow very slowly. After the rainbow, I proceeded to catch two more trout. One was a thirteen-inch brown trout, with a small kype.  Then I handed my pole to my father, because his pole remained unproductive. As the time neared 8:30, and the light began to dim my dad hooked into a massive fish. After five tense minutes, I netted an eighteen-inch rainbow trout. The biggest wild trout I have ever heard of being caught in Yosemite for years. As the sun disappeared we walked back with smiles on our faces. 

The first rainbow trout of the day 

This massive trout hit a Kastmaster, 

What I drew from this experience was the randomness of this fishing expedition. My family had not gone to Yosemite to fish. We had gone there to look at scenery, and observe the wildlife. Instead, we ended up with the biggest wild trout of our lives. Had my dad not seen the trout in the river, we would never have had this experience. Usually organized planning results in more consistent success. This means that you should plan your events. However, sometimes you find  yourself in a situation that you never would have expected. At those times, you need to get over your shock and seize the opportunity. The best things happen when you least expect it.

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Fishing: Preparation for Life

I really put my time during the last trip. My reward was this nice bass
at Lake Boronda. 

In my earlier post, you will see that I fished at Calero earlier this morning. But as evening approached I got the Boronda bass itch, the unstoppable urge to fish at Lake Boronda for a chance at a bass. So I put down my Xbox controller and my TV remote, and rode down to the lake. The drive along winding Foothill Road built up the suspense within me.

As soon as we got to the lake I jumped out. I already held my weapon of choice in my hand, a four-inch Rage Craw, pinned on a shaky 1/8 ounce jig head. The evening temperature was a balmy 76 degrees, and the lake was placid. I began my routine lap of the lake, but after one and a half hours my hope was flickering. A friend of mine (not CC) caught a frog, but that was about it. Just as we were about to leave, I pitched in my Rage Craw, and dragged it along the bottom of the lake. A nice fish picked it up. An exhilarating fight commenced, and I netted a hefty bass. Soon after my catch, CC caught a decent bass and a massive sunfish using a KVD crank bait. Though the action was still quite slow, the fish were warming up. Soon, I expected violent surface action from big bass.

A friend of mine caught this bullfrog while buzzing a soft-plastic on top of the water

Fishing is often rewarding when you catch fish, but there are times when you don't. I have talked to the adults and they say that fishing is "preparation for life." If someone only cares about catching fish, they don't really understand what fishing is about.  In fishing the exciting part is perfecting your bait's action, and thinking about the bass's movements and patterns. The actual fish is just a reward. I don't completely agree with this idea, but fishing is something to enjoy. It helps me get away from the Xbox, and enjoy the outdoors. If you only live for the fight of the fish, you will miss the opportunity to enjoy many moments in your life.

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Hard Work = First Crappie

My first crappie caught at Calero Reservoir
:)

Yesterday was another episode of epic fishing in the Bay Area. When I woke up in the morning my dad was pushing me to go to Calero Reservoir, and fish in a float tube. After a half-hour drive, we arrived. Unfortunately, I realized that the lake had fifteen mile-per-hour gusts blowing across it. Water skiers blazed on top of the water's surface, leaving rough waves in their wake. In a float tube this can mean a tough session on the lake. However, my dad and I were undeterred. We strapped on our life jackets, and eased ourselves into the lake. On the end of my pole I had a 1/8 ounce jig head, paired with a Berkley GULP Magic Goby. I was bouncing my lure along the bottom of the lake. My dad was using a wacky rigged senko and was fishing it beneath the waters surface.

The beginning of the expedition was strenuous. I braved waves and strong gusts of wind, but it still took me an hour to get to the other side of the lake. So far I had not gotten any bites. However on the way back the wind drifted my float tube towards shore. This meant I could focus on fishing. Then I began to feel taps. It was similar to a bass's bites, but lighter. Setting the hook, I began to reel in my prize. When the fish got to the surface, I was surprised to see my first crappie! The day went on with more bites, but no more fish were landed. My dad and I talked to a few more fisherman, but found that others had come up with similar results to ours.

The conclusion, fishing in general had been slow, but people putting in their time had been catching. The sport is called fishing, not catching. If I had never gotten off the couch at home, or gotten out of bed early I would never have gotten my first crappie. Even at the lake, I kicked with all  my energy to propel myself into the wind. Good things usually don't come to you easily. If it was easy, somebody else would be doing it for less effort. You have to try.

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Fishermen make Friends

This happy fisherman (CC) pulled in a hefty 3.5 pound largemouth bass at Boronda Lake in Palo Alto

Fishing is all about the experiences you have during your adventure. Last night I was treated to an amazing dinner with some of my best fishing buddies. We talked and ate and ate and ate... and then I ate some more. The reason we were eating so much, fishing! As some of you may figure out in the future, fishing is not catching. Quite often you sit at the side of a lake for eight hours and catch nothing. However, I feel enjoying the scenery, and the company of others is more than enough. A fish is just a bonus. It does help to be full of warm, yummy food.

Yesterday was one of those days when the conditions were aligned just right, and success greeted us. When we got to the lake there were three people in the car. Me, my dad, and our friend, CC (carnivorous crank bait) all stepped out ready for action. The lake was a glassy surface, that reflected the hills. A light gust of wind would occasionally stir up the water and the cool air of the evening had the bass jumping. I went on ahead to scout for fish, while CC tied on a KVD shallow-diving crank bait. When I came back to check on him, I was surprised to see a massive bend in his Shock rod. After a vicious tussle, CC coaxed the 3.5 pound bass into the waiting net. We continued fishing.
After I caught a much smaller bass, our entourage piled into the van, and left the lake just as the sun passed over the grass covered hills. Back at the house we were greeted with cake and refreshments, as we sat around the table talking about CC's success.

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