On the way to Mom and Dad’s house in Modesto for T‑day, I stopped off for a first‑ever visit to Hensley lake near Madera Thursday morning to participate in the hot largemouth bass bite, as reported the past two weeks in the Western Outdoor News.  I have followed stories about this and neighboring Eastman Lake for fifteen years, even catching my personal best largemouth of 6-8 at Eastman back in ’86.  This time, for once, Hensley’s write‑up was more favorable.  What was basically stated: if you locate a rock pile, the bass would be lying in wait to ambush a variety of plastic baits flipped their way.

    I parked on River Road just above a seventy‑five‑yard‑long cove on the south shore near the dam.  As I hiked down the slope toward the water in the predawn darkness, I heard lots of splashing going on, which couldn’t have been caused by anglers casting.  There wasn’t anybody else around.  I could hear three groups of coots and several diving ducks squawking, meaning they could be causing some of the ruckus atop the surface.  But it wasn’t just them.  There were also explosions to go along with the splashes, indicating largemouth over three pounds were in the area foraging.

    With me at the ready was my twelve‑pound spinning outfit set up with a Texas rigged six‑inch black curly‑tail Power Worm.  I cast across the narrow lagoon to the other shore and worked the lure back to my side with a textbook slow jerky motion along the muddy bottom.  As the overcast sky brightened I heard one of those explosive splashes over to the right.  I tippy‑toed over, away from the water, to not alert my game their hunter was on the prowl.  A perfect toss just on the other side of the fish’s wake, the perfect retrieve, and nothing.  I tried a couple more times in the same place, then kablewey, the biggest and baddest splatter happened about five feet out from where I previously stood.  I snuck back over there and tried the same technique with the worm, but nothing bit.

    Seeing I was in the middle of a rare top water bite, I reached into my tackle sack to pull out a stickbait but found that in my haste I did not pack any.  The only lure I had on me, which would cause a surface commotion to attract the bass’ interest, was a frog pattern Jitterbug popper.  I waited for the next big eruption, which was only three minutes, then tossed the plug up and over the splash.  Yet another textbook retrieve, giving it a quick jerk to make a splosh, then waiting 30 seconds before the next pull of the line, but again nothing.  I worked the lure with slightly varying retrieves for thirty minutes before losing hope.

    As I walked along the shore, I saw where I was headed looked not very productive.  There was mostly mud with no structure or rocks to speak of, as the lake level was down way over fifty feet.  My best bet was to walk to the back of the cove, cross, then head over to the primary point out in the lake’s main body.  As I cruised along I saw more fish breaking the water, with one surface ring in particular looking like a trout caused it.  To get the most out of my $9.20 second rod license stamp, I cast a wad of rainbow sparkle Power Bait out into the depths, anchored down by a quarter‑ounce egg sinker.

    While the trout bait was soaking I went back to slinging the popper plug in and around some of the rock piles.  It was apparent after fifteen more casts that nothing around was going to be exploding on this.

    I took a breather while eating a small bag of chips to retie the aforedescribed black worm, a device in which historically I have had the utmost confidence.  Flipping the wiggler here and there between the gaps of a nearby stack of boulders, I finally felt that distinctive tap‑tap transfer up the line, signifying a largemouth had just sucked it up.  I set the hook and was on.  Typical of the species, when line pressure is applied, the fish wanted to come flying out of the water.  Usually when this happens they will vibrate their heads in mid‑air like a hummingbird flaps its wings in an attempt to expel the hook.  The trick is to keep the rod tip below the waterline and slow the retrieve to almost a stop.  This way the fish will not jump.  Ah, what the heck.  The thing was only a pound and promptly released.  I should have let it leap out of the water just for the sake of thrills.

    I walked around the point about twenty feet, past my soaking trout rod, to see if there were any cool rock piles to investigate.  There were a few about a half‑mile away, already being covered by two anglers in a bass boat, who were trolling closer and closer.  One of the guys must have thought he was some kind of hotshot guide or something.  I could hear him talk fishing techniques for a half‑hour, with his client sitting there nodding, saying “right” and “uh huh” a lot.  Well damn, he was definitely more than words, as Mr. Chatworthy promptly cranked in a largemouth that looked from this distance to be twice the size as the one I had just landed.

    And it was about then the fish pole bell on my trout rod rang out.  I jogged over, grabbed the outfit and watched as the newly enslackened line went racing out.  I gingerly set the hook and the battle was on.  Well, almost.  At first the fish sort of came right in until it entered the three‑feet‑of‑water zone.  It was then that the rainbow lurched to the left, pulling out a few feet of drag.  Then he went right, left, right and finally into the net.  As I lifted it out I saw that it looked larger and felt heavier than your basic stocker rainbow.  It weighed in at one pound three ounces.

    At 9:30 I walked back, not noticing any more fish jump, only a lot of coots and ducks splashing amok.  Another half-hour of no hits had me back on the road, following the aroma trail to dinner.

*****

    Following another hot tip, Friday morning I took off for Melones Lake with trout in mind.  Dad and I had this great day quite a few years ago for two-pounders.  Now every time I’m up that way and the reports are favorable I find some time to test the waters.

    I tried Dad’s Glory Hole spot for the first hour and a half.  Nothing touched the rainbow glitter Power Bait at several depths tried.  On my other rod I cast a chrome quarter‑ounce Kastmaster to varying depths and different speeds.  Nothing.

    Next hour I drove my technique over to Angel’s cove.  Zilch.

    Finally I ended up driving over to Tuttletown to walk out to a point across a cove from the launch ramp.  Ah, fond memories abound at this spot too.  Here in the late 80’s I nailed a two�� and a three�����pound bass one T-day morning.  Today I had the black worm going while the bait soaked, but zero.

    As noon approached, a local angler walked by.  I inquired about how it’s been around here lately.  He said he’d been fishing since two in the morning, hooking up in a cove on the other side of the launch ramp.  He said he shined a light beam across the cove, which attracted the shad, which in turn attracted the bass and trout.  Into the soup he tossed a plastic shad on a leadhead to score his prizes.  To myself I questioned the legality of his methods, but whatever works.

*****

    Saturday I hung out with the parents.  Dad had a kidney removed earlier in the month. He’s doing just fine.  I forgot to ask if he still had it in a tub in the frige or something.  Kidneys make good catfish bait.

*****

    Sunday night, after a long drive home, I sat down for a home‑cooked trout dinner.  The fish definitely was a holdover, as it tasted unpalatable, just like the mud that lined the banks from where it was caught.  If it were freshly stocked it would have tasted corn‑fed good right from hatchery.

*****

    Anyway, back to saltwater.  Monday I was anxious to fish a morning high tide for opaleye at my beloved Opaleye Point after it was reported this week in WON that this species has been showing around Palos Verde’s south shore.  I didn’t have time to check any slime pits for enteromorpha bait, so a bag of frozen peas would have to do.

    I was down the trail and fishing about an hour before light.  As such, I flung the five‑inch Fish Trap from numerous spots trying for the elusive wintertime calico.  By the time I made it back to the point my bag was empty and the light was full enough to start the opaleye process.

    I tied on the usual bobber rig, only with a number four Owner flyliner hook instead of the usual enteromorpha size one.  I skewered three peas onto the hook and tossed out to the backside of the whitewater.  I thought this is the day as after only a few minutes I was hooked up.  The downside was that the opaleye was worth barely two tacos.  Kept it nonetheless.

    The next fish to get hooked on peas was five minutes later and felt much larger.  It pulled fairly hard as the waves rolled in and out.  To my surprise it wasn’t an opaleye after all but another vegetarian bass, just like I hooked from this same spot last month.  With three tacos hanging off its fourteen inches, this one was definitely kept.

    Minutes later my bobber dunked again.  This opaleye was about the same as the first one, about two tacos, and kept.  After that I had no more bites for a half hour, so I packed it up to give life a shot at the Marineland Ledge.  BORING.  One hour produced no bites.

    Last and least was a visit to Long Point.  The water was a little rough here, but still fishable.  The only thing an hour produced was a teensy halfmoon that wasn’t kept.

    A small ray of hope is that near where I work in Irvine, in San Diego Creek, grows patches of enteromorpha.  I will harvest a bucket load the Saturday before our next trip to Laguna Beach, Monday 12/11.

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