A few years ago the crew and I visited Dana Harbor jetty near Doheny Beach, where we saw a couple regulars with an ice chest full of opaleye, fishing the outside near the fuel dock. Breakwalls Steve, Dan and I possessed the killer enteromorpha, but we never had a bite as we were late arriving at this spot after a morning of skunkings elsewhere in the vicinity. We did vow to return again someday early in the morning during a high tide.

    About a month later we were back but between us we only had two hits, one of which resulted in my landing of a three-taco opaleye. One reason we might not have had too great of success was that the swell action is usually really calm here due to the major breakwall and Dana Point itself blocking any surge out of the northwest.

    Now that I know the opaleye hang out here, under what conditions would produce the optimal bite? A south swell I think would make a big mess. How 'bout we time an early morning high tide with huge northwest swells? If the fish can't easily feed at their normal rocky haunts off the outside points due to oversize surf, maybe they'll wait it out along a calm-watered jetty. I remember King Harbor filled with opaleye during severe storm days when the breakwall and jetty were being pounded.

    Two days ago, as I'm sure we are all aware, we had the Big Kohuna Arctic rainstorm blow through. I checked the swell charts Sunday and saw the seas off Point Conception topping over twenty feet. It was over ten off Ventura and the South Bay, all the way down to Dana.  I gave Breakwall Dan a buzz to see if he wanted to split a bucket of bait with me Monday morning.

    By that time the swell was still up and we had a stiff wind. As we approached the jetty we saw there was zero surf along Doheny. We paid the exploratory buck to park, then walked out to the spot. As the dawn brightened, a fear of mine was revealed. San Juan Creek, which drains a large swath of the Santa Ana and Elsinore Mountains, was pouring mud onto the beach, causing the water in front of us for miles to resemble an extra large latte.

    But what the heck. I drove all the way over here and I've looked more stupid standing around other places, why not cast our enteromorpha opaleye bobber rigs into the muck and hope for the best. Another factor in our staying a while wasn't the blown buck in the meter but another dude walking up with his opaleye outfit. He looked like he knew what he was doing and if he thought it was okay to fish in unflushed toilet water, I wasn't about to leave and let him catch everything.

    All the three of us were reeling in were bits of various riparian flotsam washed down from the canyon. Dan was over there about three rocks away, staring me down the whole time like just before a boxing match. Okay, okay, we're going.

    We cruised a few miles north up the coast highway to check our usual Laguna Beach rocks. From a bluff-top railing we saw wave after towering wave blasting all opaleye and everything else into unconsciousness.

    Under these conditions we could think of only one other locale to salvage our day, Good ol' Corona Del Mar jetty in Newport Beach. From the top of the hill there, we could see the water was calm and clear and that the nasty plume of silt being deposited by the Santa Ana River to the north was still about a day away.

    We spent about two hours here under a cool sun sippin’ suds, watching the swell on The Wedge side of the channel kick and scream. In that time we both had about one small nibble each.

    Next came the entertainment. Four ding-dongs in a ten foot dinghy came rip-roarin' out of the Newport Harbor entrance and into the swell. Watching them in this little outboard-powered bath tub with no lifejackets doing doughnuts and zigzags over the whitecaps and having one exciting time was inspirational. Rub a dub dub.

    Right behind them came the Catalina Flyer. It's a 300 foot long catamaran with three stories, which makes periodic commutes to the island. Everything was fine for the passengers coming out through the protected channel. Then, "AHHHHHH", screamed the people latched to the third story railing, as the whole thing surged back and forth 45 degrees either way. And they had three more hours of this trauma to go. Dan said, look how big that ship is and it acts like one of our opaleye bobbers out there.

    Now, that looked awfully fun. I know what to do on big-wind, giant-swell days when the fish are hibernating or the conditions otherwise suck. Eat a few Dramamines, get some beer and LSD, put on a rain suit and take a ride on the top deck of the Flier to Catalina. We can play a game of hold-on, where the contestants vie for prizes as we see who can grab the rail and hold on the longest before being catapulted overboard. The rain suit will keep everyone else's puke from staining the clothes of those who hold on the longest.

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