ForbesOnTech

Yum Yum Yellowtail-- They're Off San Diego in Quantity

Yellowtail on plastic waiting to be cleaned

 

Growing up in Southern California, I’d wait patiently for the Thursday edition of the Los Angeles Times and it’s Sports Section.  In addition to a regular column by the late sports columnist, Jim Murray, it also had sport fishing catch reports from ports up and down the California coast.

            My belief that San Diego was the place I wanted to drown anchovies from is rooted in those long ago catch reports. And right now—in Mid June, 2008—is all the proof I’ve ever wanted.

            I tentatively launched my boat yesterday mid morning from the ramp at Dana Landing in Mission Bay and motored out to the Everingham Brothers Bait Barge to pick up a half scoop of active big sardines. Given a choice between a $20 half scoop of sardines or the anchovies, I’ll go with sardines every time.

            I left the harbor and steamed for the seaward side of the help beds that line the coastline from Torrey Pines to Imperial Beach on the Mexican border. I plopped an active sardine into the water, cut back the throttle to maintain steerage and watched my unweighted line unwind as my bait made for free water about 50 feet off the port side of my bow.

            I wasn’t exactly ready for the first strike. My line took off and I barely prevented creating a rats nest on the spool of my reel by clamping down with my thumb. I thumbed the reel in gear, reared back on the rod and the fish took off for the kelp. The run for the kelp, and the strength of the fish immediately made me confident I had hooked a yellowtail.  This gutsy, but oh so tasty Thunnoid family member is a school fish, so when you catch one yellowtail, you can be very sure there are others nearby.

            Very soon I had the fish next to my boat, which is when it decided it wanted me to do laps around the deck.  But very soon, after not letting the fish wrap the line around my outboard, I slashed down with the boat hook and brought my yellowtail on board.

            Slowly making my way north on the outside in a flat calm sea, I lost five more sardines to slashing attacks from fast hitting fish. But by noon I had two nice “big schoolies”—15 to 20 pound yellowtail-- on board, and was listening to fishing boat skippers trade reports of limits of barracuda and big legal white sea bass (which are making a strong comeback here on the San Diego coast) as well as fishermen catching limits of calico bass and the infrequent sheepsheads.

            By noon I was beginning to feel the effects of sun burn on the tops of my unshod feet, so I headed back to the ramp, loaded my boat on its trailer and headed home to Escondido to clean the one fish I kept for my household.

            I don’t remember a better yellowtail season in a non El Nino year and as long as the air temps hover around 90, I think the run is going to last through the summer. So, if your travels take you to San Diego, do take the time to go out on an all-day boat. Be prepared for fun but you may also want to pack some soy saice and wasabi in your tackle box. Yum,yum fresh yellowtail sushi for a boat lunch.  It doesn’t get any better for a summer Southern California fishing treat. – Jim Forbes 06/19/2008.

2008 California Salmon Season Cancelled--Major Bummer

In addition to $3.50 per gallon gas, and the fact that when I tow my boat behind my massively manly Toyota V6 4Runner I get about 9 miles to the gallon, here’s another damn reason why I won’t be going up north to fish for salmon later this Spring: fishing for salmon in California’s coastal waters has been cancelled this year see here.

            This is the first time in my memory when an entire salmon season in all of California’s coastal waters has been cancelled. The decision to close California’s coastal salmon fishery was made early this week and follows a federal closure of the salmon fishery that extends 200 miles from the coast, the edge of our international maritime boundary.

            A decision to close the inland Central and Northern California 2008 salmon season will not be made until early May. However the inland waters season is likely to be cancelled as well, according to reports in today’s Sacramento Bee.

            The reason for the closure is to protect remaining stocks of wild salmon that migrate up stream to their natal inland waterways to spawn and then die.

            Commercial and sport salmon fishing is a multimillion-dollar industry in California and over the last several years the number and size of salmon caught by commercial and sport fishermen alike has declined. Likewise, the number of wild Chinook (aka King) salmon counted by Fish and Game biologists, passing through fish ladders on the Sacramento River and its tributaries, has also fallen.

            As a sport fisherman who really enjoys chasing salmon off the Golden Gate, or further North off the Humboldt Coast, I have very mixed feelings about the salmon fishing closure.  On one hand, I will really miss tussling a slab sided King to the side of my boat, however, taking the pressure off the remaining salmon stocks for one or two seasons may result in my being able to catch free running wild salmon at a later date.

            I do feel sorry for members of the commercial salmon fishing fleet on the San Francisco coast. Until the albacore appear late this summer, there’s just no way they can make any money.—Jim Forbes 04/15/2008/

Perfect River Conditions and Willing Trout--Best East Fork Trip Ever

The combination of warm early spring sun on top of some recent rain (which translated to snow on the slopes of Mount Baldy and Iron Mountain on the San Gabriel River’s East Fork made for one of the best fishing hikes I’ve ever made on the East Fork.

            Parking at the trailhead just up from the East Fork Ranger Station on Friday, I thought I might ry to make it up to the Bridge to No Where and Fish my way back down the canyon. Alas, walking up the East Fork, my plans were derailed after I noticed that pools up and down the watershed were filled with trout. I made my first cast into a pool about two-miles up from the ranger station. I zipped my barb less #16 wooly into the cold waters of the east fork and got a hit by a 16-inch rainbow that wanted to run, jink and jive among the not yet worn smooth of this classic East Fork trout pool.  My 4x lightweight tippet lasted a whole 10 minutes before it gave out as I tried to horse the fish to within range of my net. I tied on another fly and 4X tippet,  roll-casting the rig at the top end of a small rill where I thought there might be a few ‘bows waiting for tasty bugs to come wafting down on the icy clear current.  I guessed wisely and my fly hadn’t floated more than five feet down stream before a fat rainbow grabbed it, I set the line and stepped into the water, determined I would land the bow that began jumping within one minute of my hooking it.

            I lwt the fish perform his trout acrobatics for a couple of minutes, mindful not to put too much pressure on the line, but hopeful I could maneuver it close enough to my spot on the rocks that I’d be able to net it. There was enough fight in the fish to light up my hopes that it was a native wild East Fork rainbow. Bent over with my net in my right hand and my rid and reel tucked under my left arm, the fish made one last run just as I got it near to my net. Three minutes more and Mr. Rainbow was in my net. I looked at the fish closely and noted it blunt nose and dullish pink side. Oh well, “a feisty big stocker that’s porked out over the winter is more than “OK” I thought.

            I unhooked him, stepped into a deeper part of the river and let him swim away, to tease a fisherman another day. Although I could see more rainbows as dark torpedo shapes flashing their red or green sides in the reflected morning sunlight in the deepest sections of the pool I wanted to test my luck in waters further up the canyon where a lifetime of experience and countless stories over holiday dinners has led me to believe there is a much higher concentration of wild native fish. Beside, another guy my age and his seven-year-old fishing buddy were rigging up and wading out down stream from me.

            “Any luck?” they asked.

“Yup a couple of nice feisty rainbows and the pool looks really loaded,” I said as I took my disgustingly dirty t shirt off and used it as a screen to see what kind of bugs were hiding under boulders.”

The young fisherman earned a lot of points in my book by wandering over to see what insects were trapped in my shirt “Hellgrammites and nymphs” he said correctly. I slipped my short sleeve shirt back on, said “have fun” and hit the trail up the stream.

From down river, I heard words that made me smile “Hey gramps, looks like we should be casting nymphs, woolies and hellgrammite flies.”  The kid had it exactly right. It always warms my heart and makes me smile to see another generation of kids refine their knowledge of this world-class trout stream, only 42 miles from down town Los Angeles. Even if it means that I face more competition for trout, more informed fishermen is a very good thing for this stream and it’s future as a spot where avid fishermen using inexpensive gear trick a few trout up using basic flies.

After another hour of hiking I came to what is my second favorite spot on the East Fork, a large pond formed by an old hand made stone dam near an abandoned powder house made of cemented river stone. I took a minute to climb to a place on the trail where I could see down into the pond.  After seeing six or seven trout rise to snag bugs on a late morning hatch, I walked quietly down to the eastern edge of this majestic pond and cast an old dry Coachman pattern fly on a small barb less hook about 20- feet down stream.  I was intently staring at the fly as I worked it back upstream.  I saw two fish dart from the edges of the pool towards my fly but both fish interrupted their runs and seemed to loose interest as the fly neared my rod tip on the retrieve. Four casts later and I had a hook up. The trout pressured my line and bent my rod tip. I let him take a couple of pulls from my reel, hoping that the resistance of my floating line would tire him enough for me to see the fish before I could get it into position for my net. Only 30 seconds after I fed this fish some line, I was treated to a nice native 14-incher with crimson red sides imitating a Polaris sub-launched rocket twisting over the water in a fantastic jump.  Looking at the fish in mid-ai, I saw that my fly had fallen to the water. The trout turned and for a half second before he landed, I swear that old homegrown rainbow smiled at me. And, that’s hard for a trout to do. They have very stiff lips.

My problem was two-fold with that trout. I don’t think the hook on that fly has been sharpened in ages and I should have paid more attention to the retrieve.  Never mind: I had more flies and I knew there were definitely more fish where that one came from.

  I merely tied on a new barb less hook I knew was laser sharp and made two more casts under a midday sun so bright you could see all the way to the bottom of the pool where experience has taught me that really big natives hang out, waiting to teach me new tricks.

I fished for another 90 minutes, catching and releasing three more 11- to 13-inch trout with well-defined snouts and bright colored sides.

            In a life time of fishing the East Fork, broken only by serving overseas in Viet Nam and a two-year period living in Washington, this could well have been my best trip ever up the San Gabriel River’s East Fork. The river is clear, cold and swift. The trout are rested, hungry and eager to rise to a fly.

            So,if you’re a Southern California fisherman looking for a top-flight fishing experience, load up your gear, make sure you have a valid fishing license and Forest Service Outdoor Pass, and head up the East Fork.

            It’s spiritual fishing at its best and it doesn’t require an airplane reservation, or a $500 shopping trip to an Orvis outlet.

            Besides, any place where a trout throwing a fly as it jumps and smiling at me as it does so is my kind of fishing paradise.—Jim Forbes, an old Azusa boy on 03/08/2008.   

Thoughts on Fishies and Dams Plus Video of the Glenn Canyon Big Water Release

I come from a long straight line of surveyors and other professionals who played witgh, mapped, moved or otherwise mad a living with dirt. Part of that tradition is an appreciation and fascination with structures that have been built to store water.

To this day, I consider dams examples of engineering prowess and the absolute proof of many things trigonometric. When I pass by a dam, my natural reaction is to stop and look at it’s face and glass the pools and downstream flows for the reflected flash of jumping trout or the dark torpedo shapes hovering at the base of rills or small natural falls. Driving past the lakes created by dams, I look for signs of fish on the water and try to locate confluences of fast flowing natural streams with the dam’s corresponding lake.

But as much as I love dams, the radical trout and salmon fishermen at the core of my soul recognizes that horrific impact dams have had on riparian habitats that were once clogged with spring run steelhead, fall run king salmon and year-round abundant stocks of wild trout. At MaForbes’ house in my ancestral home in Azusa is a photo of her family when she was a girl of about three. The photo was taken in the San Gabriel canyon at a spot now covered by the millions of cubic yards of earth and stone that form the San Gabriel dam. On a stringer held up by my grandfather, William Sele and his brother, Jim (who patriotically changed his name from “Otto” to Jim during the first World War) Sele are about seven 25-inch or longer king salmon, a couple of silver salmon, three bodacious steelheads and several fine messes of native rainbow trout -- a couple of which appear to have been old enough to develop proganthic, undershot, hooked jaws. It’s one of the most spectacular fishing shots I’ve ever seen and it was taken on my beloved East Fork, before it’s two dams were built.

While I enjoy looking at dams I do not like their effect on trout and salmon populations. Put a dam on a river and watch the trout disappear with the seasonal river flows.

Hey, I recognize this makes me a curmudgeonly fishermen here in the land of the great Cadillac Desert. I’m willing to live with that as long as I can still trick the occasional rainbow to hit one of my ancient scraggly flies up on the east fork of the San Gabriel River, where you can still catch wild tail-dancing trout.

But back to dams. One of the real demonstrations of man-induced power is watching a dam keeper open up big 8- or 12-foot release valves and venting thousands of tons of water in a couple of minutes. Growing up in Azusa, I’d see the valves open up at the bottom of Morris Dam every couple of years, generally during or after rainstorms. For a brief couple of days, the water release would bring the San Gabriel’s River bed back to life-- for a bit.

This week the operators of the Glenn Canyon dam on the Colorado river opened up their primary release valves in an effort to flush silt from portions of the Colorado River. The video of this is so impressive I thought I would post it tonight. So…without further ado here’s what happens when you crack open a big dam’s release valves:

here

Free the native Mojave Chub and the humpback fish!

Somewhere down stream from that dam the fishes are screaming: “Yippee” as they ride the tidal wave down to the next dam on the Colorado River.--Jim Forbes, on 02/05/2008, rod and real ready for a trip up the East Fork, later this week.

My favorite Steelhead Spot May get Closed--Damn Treble hook Draggers!

click here for Sacramento Bee story

The (California) State Fish and Game Commission is set to consider a two-month fishing ban on the lower American River. If approved at the commission's February meeting, it would mark the first such ban along that stretch of river in years.

The ban would interrupt steelhead trout season in full swing along one of the region's most popular fishing spots

The Northern California Council, a branch of the national Federation of Fly Fishers, is asking for the ban during February and March, saying the unusually low river levels increase the opportunity for "snagging." Snaggers illegally catch fish by dragging a line through the water until a fish gets hooked, often on its body.

            There’s nothing lower than someone who drags for salmon or steelhead in one of the few stretches of water in California where both species can still be caught easily. And because of these lowlife salmon snagging goat ropers, I will not be able to walk out on the sandy bar that extends from the northern edge of the shore on the American River into the relatively deep water of the Sacramento River to satisfy my obsession for steelhead. It’s at this precise point that king salmon and winter run steelhead trout hang a hard right and fin up the American, past Folsom Prison and into the awaiting pens of the State-run Nimbus hatchery.

The proposed closure is perhaps the most rewarding water in all of California to introduce someone to the idea and discipline of fly fishing for salmon and much rarer steelhead (all of which are members of the family that includes the much more common trout). Over the years, I’ve often smiled at the early morning images of fathers and grandfathers leading younger male and female members of their tribes out onto the sand spit that goes from the north shore of the American River, out into California's mother river, the Sacramento.  What makes this place so special is it’s location. You can park nearby and begin enjoying a first class fishing experience within minutes. But I guess that’s not to be this year

There is very good news in this: first, the numbers of steelhead spawners will go up. Secondly, it alerts “draggers” that the Fish and game has very good binoculars and fast boats. With any luck the closure will slow down illegal fishing practices.

Oh, what’s the difference between a King salmon and a steelhead? I’m so glad you asked.

            A steelhead is a unique adaptation of a rainbow trout. Mother nature has seen fit to build a big ass rainbow that is born in freshwater, but goes to sea. Out in  the Pacific, Steelheads get really big (14-18 pounds is normal and 20 pounds is a gift from God), and if they don’t end up as seal poop, they also get very, very crafty.  Unlike salmon, when a steelhead returns to its natal waters to spawn, it doesn’t die, but rather body surfs its way back to the Pacific where if it survives, it gets bigger and sneakier.

            Although salmon get twice as big as steelhead, there easier to catch.

            Give a man a steelhead and he can feed his family. Show him how and where to catch steelhead and he begins suffering from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.  Catching Steelies is that addictive. If you’re lucky enough to hook one you soon discover that it’s like trying to hold a panther in a hurricane. 

California has several great steelhead fisheries: the State Street Bridge at highway 101 in Ukiah; Dos Rios on the Covelo Reservation north of Ukiah, The Matole and Mad Rivers north of Ukiah, inland from highway 101, and the Smith River, near the Oregon border. Surprisingly, Steelhead have not completely disappeared from southern California rivers. Recently, they’ve been observed in natural spawning beds on the Santa Margarita near Camp Pendleton and a few miles upstream from the Pacific Ocean on the Ojai River near Ventura. Steelhead numbers are down, but as long as they can reach good spawning grounds, this species has proven remarkable resilient. Catching steelhead isn’t a hobby, it’s a vocation. It requires attention to presentation of a fly or bait and a thorough knowledge of a given waterway. It also helps if you can take time off from work to begin fishing within seconds of the first moments of opening day. But once you hook and beach your first steelhead, you’re addicted.

I fly fish for steelies but I don’t hold a grudge against family members and friends that use sacks if fresh roe and colored streamers to catch their fish.  I just never let them see or tell them what fly  I’m using. And, I release my steelies for another day and perhaps a new generation of Forbeslings to discover. 

Leave the land as you find it, the fish a little wiser for their encounter with you and laugh at yourself along the way.—Jim Forbes 01/24/2008

 

Tis The Season to Catch Flatties-- Fa lala la Zing Zing Zing

Growing up in Southern California catching a halibut seemed to be a hit or miss affair for me. Mostly I missed. But as I got older, I noticed a couple of things: there are fishermen on the west coast who specialize in flatties; To consistently land tasty flatties, you need to be observant, patient and willing to learn a little about what the species feeds on and where they’re most likely to be found.

            Today, I am a dyed-in-the-wool fool for flatties. And as the days and hours count down on my 2007-fishing license, the two species I pursue are inshore halibut and freshwater rainbow trout.

            Fall halibut fishing is a delight. It’s also the time of year when I consistently get hook ups.

            Some general observations:

            I have the most success with a long, nine-foot rod, a medium sized combination reel,  sub ten-pound test, wire leaders and very sharp hooks.

            If I’m going to use bait, I scour the fish counter in Asian markets for good looking fresh dead squid. I buy three or four squid, load my tackle box and try to hit the beach at the tail end of an outgoing tide.

            It helps to understand that halibut love sandy bottoms, often at the edge of inshore kelp beds. I rig up with a sliding sinker and three or feet of leader attached to a wire leader and heave my squid baited hook out as far as I can beyond the surf line. Then I stick my rod in a sand spike, sit down and suck up some coffee a I wait for the tell tale pulls signaling a flatty at my bait.

            For the most part halibut are opportunistic feeders, striking bait from behind.  If I’m impatient and need some reassurance, I crank my line in and check the bait. If I can see “rake” marks or missing tentacles on the squid, I know my rig is in the right place, so I try to throw it back in the same general area.

            With luck, the rod begins moving again and my spool begins clicking as the fish takes the bait and moves away.  I wait a couple of seconds and set the hook.

            Then comes the pay off, tussling a nice flatty through the surf line, past some very smart seals. I really like the rhythms of bringing a halibut in through a surf line. It doesn’t take very long to learn how to use waves to move the fish inshore, despite its frequent runs to the bottom and dashes towards deeper water.

            Another useful strategy for catching halibut in and near a beach is to look for rip channels and fish those channels at ebb tide. I’ve been pretty successful using this strategy with lead head hooks and hula skirts with long white or very pale green fringes. The point of using this type of lure is to imitate a squid (although why any self respecting cephalopod would be in the surf line still escapes me). If that doesn’t work, I switch to lures like broke back salt water Rapallas. I make sure I can present at least four feet of leader and always use a sliding sinker.

            My best results throwing or trolling a lure for halibut, has always been when I use imitation squid devices.  Halibuts seem unable to resist them.

            Halibuts are present year round on the Southern California coast. A couple of final thoughts: getting caught with an undersize halibut is an expensive thing; sticking your hand down a large halibut’s mouth to retrieve an inexpensive lure is a good way to end up with a nick name like “stubby” or “Two Fingered Jim.”

            Know that you know the flatties are out there waiting, go out and get rigged up for late year halibut.  Tight lines—Jim Forbes 12/18/2007

Favorite Fishing Spots; Off to Fuller Lake This Week--Lip Ripping Fun in the Sierra

Latitude: 39.34917,Longitude: -120.65389-- Off to Fuller  Lake

At long last, I’m making a pilgrimage to Fuller Lake, my idea of trout fishing heaven. My fishing scout buddies, who are drop dead serious when it comes to reports about Fuller Lake (although I know they lie their asses of when telling me about the salmon and steelhead they catch elsewhere), assure me that “Fall fishing is incredible up at Fuller” so off I go on Friday morning to Grass Valley, these to turn right on Highway 20 and head East towards Fuller.

The turn off to this sparking California trout jackpot lake always makes me smile, and it’s helped me win bets with gullible friends. The first time I was given directions they consisted of go out Highway 20 until you see a river running uphill on the south side of the road.  I swallowed the bait then, looked on the south side of the road and sure enough there it was, fast flowing water ripping uphill.

It’s an optical illusion caused by your seeing a slight sloping watercourse from a vantage point that’s more steeply sloped than the channel. It never ceases to make me stop, look, smile and try to win money from anyone who’s never seen it before.

The one thing I can say truthfully about Fuller Lake is that I wish I had discovered it earlier in my life.  It doesn’t matter what time of the year I go, or whether I’m fly fishing from a tube, casting floating bait at the end of leader run through a sliding sinker rig or using a worm suspended underneath a bobber. Fuller Lake is fish lip ripping fun any time of the year..

            My favorite times of the year to fish Fuller are: Right after the ice breaks in the spring and late fall before the first snow. Fuller in the fall is my personal favorite. Hold over rainbows are anxious to hit anything that will help them fatten up for the winter and the resident herd of German browns become barracuda-like in the ferocity with which they take a hook, fly or lure.

I’ve had 18-inch brownies snap leaders and tippets at Fuller several times when I fish this lake in the fall. And, when fishing cheese and egg rigs at Fuller, I’ve had double hookups on at least five trips. (Oh the shame of publicly admitting I use bait some times).

There is one spot at one Fuller that is incredibly productive.  Getting to it isn’t easy. Using a canoe or a float tube, look for the confluence of a small stream on the lake’s northeast corner. Paddle over , and settle in about 25 feet off shore. Don’t get too comfortable.  That specific section of Fuller is where some really big German browns hang out. And the one thing I know for certain about Fuller’s small population of brownies is that you can’t horse them in.  They get pissed off.

So that’s where I’ll be late this week, up in the Sierra passing on my enjoyment of fishing at Fuller Lake to my 10-year-old buddy and godson, Alistair James Young (“AJ” for short). —Jim Forbes, anxiously awaiting the start of my trip to Fuller Lake later this week.

Catfish, Lessons Learned on a Hot Day-- the Relief of "Found" Money!

Took my boat out to a local lake today to drown some worms. Turned on the fish finder and saw scads of targets near the bottom of the inflow concrete feed pipes that supplies this lake with my water that has somehow made it’s way underneath the dirt of my good friends in Northern California.

            Given my luck and intuition I knew a couple of things:

1.                  the targets on my fish finder were most likely catfish;

2.                  to catch catfish during the day you need to softly put the bait in front of them.

3.                  Catfish axiomatically rest in shaded swales on the bottom of a lake, facing the flow of water (if there’s a current present) and away from the  sun.

4.                  Swales (think small valleys on the back side of rippled earth) are created by the flow of water into a lake or pond.

5.                  Catfish are pretty tasty and MaForbes likes fresh catfish. A lot.

6.                  I learned all this by being Tom Sawyer to my grandfather’s Huck Finn.

So, I rigged up with a sliding  sinker on my freshwater spinning outfit loaded with clear six-pound test line, hooked a juicy night crawler on the hook at the end of the leader and softly cast out to the right suide of the boat. I let the line settle, did a soft retrieve until I felt my bait encounter slight resistance and reeled in until I felt the tension ease out. (note, th tsnion is most often the bait going  up a swale and it eases up when you pull your rig into a valley on its otherside.

Within two minutes I had a nice hit, so I let the fish take line before I set the hook.  I quickly caught two other nice keepers in the 99 degree fore-nnon heat. Without a chair in my boat, I rest my butt against a leaning post as I watch for tell tale twitches at the end of my line. After about a hour I noticed that my wallet made me feel uncomfortable, so I moved it to a secure spot on my boat’s center console. After another 45 minutes the fish stopped biting, so I went back to the boat launch, loaded the panga back on it’s trailer and made ready to make the 10-minute drive back to my house from the lake.

I got about half way home, to a gas station that happens to always have cherry slurpees when I remembered my wallet.

I Reached over my boat, snagged my wallet and went to the gas pump. Opened my wallet but noticed my ATM card had been partly melted in the sun.

      Quickly realizing that without my ATM card I’d have to pay cash for my gas and the much-anticipated cherry slurpee. Bummer, no cash in either front pockets of my short pants so I frantically started looking under the front seats of my massively manly 4Runner. “Aha” I yelled as I found a soiled $20 wedged against the right side seat rail. Bought $7 worth of gas for the boat, a $2 slurpee and had walking around money left over.

      Southern story telling and trick endings.  And you thought my wallet might have been lost, right?

No, I learned from my own private Huck. He was born in rural, Duenweg,Missouri, spent his professional life surveying the East Fork of the San Gabriel River, moved to the desert in retirement but passed  before I came home from Viet Nam almost 50 years ago.

      He was such a credible story teller that at one time I actually believed him when he told me with a poker face that trout living in cool desert pools actually walked on their fins to get to the next pond.  Carrying canteens on their backs!

I really was gullible, but I picked up some of his rhythms of his speech and much of his humor.

Oh, the two catfish I brought home are alive out in my large birdbath, which I cooled with about 10 ice cubes.  I’ll deal with them before my next trip up to take MaForbes shopping. In the meantime, those fish swimming in the birdbath will give the birds something to think and chirp about as they hang out at Farmer Forbes’ birdy day spa, and tomato buffet. —Jim Forbes, Escondido, CA, 08/04/2007.

(editor’s note: please don’t  tell my friends in CalTrout  that I openly admit to using bait from time to time.  Oh the shame!

This entry is for SFC Paul Sele, Huck’s other fisherman grandson and the last one of us to serve the Constitution of the United States as well as the citizens of his home state.  Have a safe deployment, Paul, we’ll get a line wet when you come home-- Jim)

Barracuda Fin Into Town--Fishing Fun

   A influx of bait following warm 70 degree offshore currents and finning their way through the kelp forests off the San Diego coast, and further off the shore along the 90 fathom line, have brought the return of Barracuda schools.

    It's almost impossible to go off the San Diego coast now and not experience the sheer joy of a zippy 'cuda hook up that thrums line of your reel and taunts you into adding just a bit more drag as you try to crank a toothy log next to your boat. I like fishing for 'cudas. Their lightning fast runs, and objections to be being caught keep me humble.

    The 'cuda offshore right now are simply spectacular. There's no shortage of 30-inch plus line rippers and almost every sport and private boat that sails around the kelp paddies off shore is forced to deal with multiple simultaneous hook ups. It's enough to keep deckhands running around a boat, long noise pliers in hand.

    I came of age learning to fish for 'cudas off Catalina Island and the southern California inshore kelp beds. As a youngster I learned to make sure my tackle box always was stocked with good wire leaders and sharpened live bait hooks as well as a selection of iron jigs that resembled big sardines or small mackerel. My tackle box today reflects my experience as a teen and as long as the barracudas are around, I make sure that I always set out with at least three packs of wire leaders with live bait hooks.

But even wire leaders are sometimes just not enough to guarantee boating what amounts to an ocean going streamlined predator such as a cuda, or its distant cousin the mighty Wahoo.

    As I learned as a 12 year old fishing off Whites Point at Catalina, 'cudas and Wahoo are capable of stripping a hundred yards of expensive monofilament, and swimming in a big circle so that the tensioned line crosses itself. And when piano-wire tight line crosses itself, it cuts like a razor, freeing the 'cuda for another day's hook up.

    Some of the most enjoyable experiences I've had fishing in the Pacific have involved barracudas. And, this includes a memorable night when I caught a Bonita, got it close to the barge off Redondo Beach and Had a 'cuda take the Bonita, thus giving me a 20 minute fight. I also recommend using light gear for barracuda. Catch an 8-pound barracuda on light gear and you'll never forget the experience.

    I pay a lot of attention to water temperatures and bait species if I'm fishing for barracuda.  Right now, there are a lot of sardines and shoals of squid off the coast, so I buy a half scoop of sardines, rig up for squid, and then bait up with either a free-reeling sardine of fresh dead whole squid to try and entice toothy barracudas into hitting.

    Barracuda-- One of the big benefits of fishing the Southern California coast.

    Well, the sun is rising over the mountains to the east of Escondido, my boat is booked up to my 4Runner, I have a thermos of coffee in the truck, so it's time to hit the ramp in Dana Landing, then it's a 20-minutes out to the deep kelp and maybe one or two 'cuda hookups before 7 a.m.--Jim Forbes 06/28/2007, gone fishing.

Sometimes You Gaff Fish, Sometimes the Fish Gaff You--Me and a Not SO Humble Scuplin

I launched the Panga this morning, putt putted over to Everingham Brothers near Dana Landing, got a half scoop of anchovies and decided to see what was biting on the far side of the kelp beds off of Ocean Beach. Dropped the anchor in about 80 feet of water, turned on my radio and baited up. two bites, no fish.

Changed baits and noted the rake marks on the bait. "OK Mr. Halibut, I got your number." I said to the seals circling my Panga. Made another drop and boom a nibble and then a hook up. With the line still near the bottom the fish was tussling and faintly tugging. I figured what the hell, it's probably small. I reeled in, got the fish to the surface and recognized it immediately as an ugly, big mouth deepwater sculpin.

I shook the fish in the water, hoping it would either come off the hook or the vibration would attract a passing seal.No such luck, so I hauled it into the boat, grabbed my pliers with one hand and reached up on the fish's body with my right hand.  I assumed I had the fish mid way up. I was wrong.

Then I felt a sharp sting and my right hand felt like I had stuck it in an oven. I've been hit by sculpins several times in my life, so I stuck my hand in the ice chest, which took some of the sting away. But hell, I was pretty sure my hand was going to swell up, so I went forward and started hauling up 100 feet of anchor rope, then pulled the Danforth unceremoniously aboard using my one good hand. Turned the boat for home, bought up some rpm and trimmed the panga up for a ride into the harbor on a small wave.

By the time I got to the boat ramp, my hand was very puffy but I got the boat on the trailer, headed up I-15, and treated the puncture with some hydrogen peroxide as soon as I got home.  I Took an anti histamine for the itching, put a topical on the wound and took a nap. The swelling is gone now but I have a new boat rule: In addition to "no big live squid with tentacles on the boat: I now have a "no sculpin in the boat" policy.

Oh well, sometimes you gaff a few fish, and sometimes the fish gaff you.--Jim Forbes  nursing a sore right hand on 06/06/2007.