Personal Best Spots
I haven’t been on a bite like this in a long time. The last time I remember something similar was years ago at an unnamed lake in Temecula, where I was catching 75 largies a day up to four pounds chucking nothing but spinnerbaits and chatterbaits. It was also the first time I’d ever had bass tackle literally broken into pieces.
For the last two months, every trip to the marina had been building toward this one.
Different tides.
Different retrieves.
Different rods.
Different baits.
Different approaches.
Learning current. Learning positioning. Learning which docks held fish—and just as importantly—which ones didn’t.
Saturday wasn’t another scouting trip.
It wasn’t another test run.
It was Game Time.
For the first time, I was going to fish the entire system exactly as I’d designed it—from launch to take-out.
The Strategy & Launch
The original plan was to hit Huntington Harbor on Saturday morning, but I figured exploring a brand-new harbor is best done during the week when boat traffic is at a minimum. Instead, I decided to put everything I’d learned over the last two months to work at The Unnamed Marina one more time.
The biggest change was the launch spot.
My previous trips ended with what could only be described as the Bataan Death Kick back to the car. This launch completely changed that. The prevailing afternoon wind—and the current—would now push me back toward my take-out point instead of fighting me the entire way.
Total distance? 4.6 miles kicked, with the wind or current doing most of the work on the return trip.
The new launch also let me fish some water I’d never touched before across the channel. Unfortunately, it confirmed something I’d already suspected.
Busy docks usually aren’t good docks.
The structure just wasn’t setting up the way I wanted. As I’ve mentioned before, the productive docks are usually the ones with boats that look like they’ve been sitting there since gas was four bucks a gallon. If the boat leaves every thirty minutes, the fish get educated. If it hasn’t moved in years…that’s prime real estate.
So, at seven in the morning, while the harbor traffic consisted mostly of retired ladies in kayaks discussing the state of affairs in America, I kicked across the channel toward the water I actually wanted to fish.
That’s when practice ended and the game began.
Game On
The first stop was along the jetty near the outflow of what ends up being the Venice Canals.
Current.
Rock.
Bait.
Incoming tide.
Everything looked right for that time of morning.
I grabbed the Free Rig because there was no searching to do here. I knew where the fish were at.
At this point I honestly couldn’t even tell you exactly what plastic was tied on. It could’ve been one of those old Owner Yuki Bugs from years ago. Maybe a DoLive Hog. Maybe a Megabass Rock Claw or anything else I found in the Clearance Bin at the local tackle shop.
Honestly…
They’re all little three-inch ugly craw-looking things that spots want to kill.
First cast. Hookup. Game on.
From that point forward, everything started running exactly the way I’d hoped it would.
Search
The JigPara Spin became the search bait.
Fan cast.
Count it down.
Surface?
Mid-depth?
Bottom?
Let the fish dictate that. Cover the entire water column until something reacts.
The best bites came on the fall. You’d make a cast, count it down, start winding…and suddenly the rod would just load up from a fish absolutely smoking it before you even got the retrieve started.
Follow
Once I’d found aggressive fish, I’d immediately pick up the Free Rig.
If I got thumped on the blade, the follow-up cast with the soft plastic sitting in front of their angry hungry face usually brought them right back.
Instead of wasting twenty more casts trying to force another reaction bite, I’d slow down and thoroughly work the area.
Once the jetty had been picked apart, it was time to head into the maze that is the dock system.
Slips, Skips, and the New Zodias
This is where the new Zodias B took over.
I’ll admit it.
I can’t skip on baitcasting gear for shit.
Every attempt usually ends with a spectacular backlash and forty dollars worth of Sunline Shooter turning into the world’s most expensive bird’s nest.
A spinning setup changes everything.
Now I could skip the Uni underneath docks, next to pilings, behind ladders, into tiny little holes that kayakers and boaters simply can’t reach.
Some of those fish hit like they’d never seen Japanese engineering before.
Honestly…
They probably hadn’t.
For most anglers, it’s a lot easier to float in the open water and bomb casts than it is to put a bait three inches from a piling underneath a dock.
The marina got absolutely torn up.
So did my thumb.
The fancy 3M tape that I thought would be better than Flex Wrap held together for a while, but after enough encounters with spotted bay bass teeth, the fortification eventually surrendered.
Personal Best
Somewhere in the middle of picking apart the docks, everything came together.
I skipped the Uni into an almost completely inaccessible pocket.
The bite felt different.
Heavier.
Slower.
The kind that immediately makes you stop and pay attention.
After a solid fight, I lipped the fish and immediately knew it was different. Kinda when you catch your first 7+ largemouth and it just looks….different.
The digital scale settled on exactly 3.00 pounds.
Not 2-15.
Not 3-1.
Exactly three pounds.
A new personal best spotted bay bass.
I actually weighed it twice because of how thick it looked.
I’d set a goal about a month ago to crack the three-pound mark.
Goal accomplished.
Everything after that…
…was just a bonus.
The Afternoon Drift
By about 2:00 PM, the afternoon west wind showed up right on schedule.
This time it wasn’t something to fight.
It became my trolling motor.
The funny thing was…
By then, the pressure was gone.
The goal I’d been chasing for the last month was already sitting in my camera roll.
Now I could simply enjoy the rest of the day.
I let the wind and current push me toward the launch while continuing to fish every current break, piling, and dock along the way.
At one point I even posted up near the park and watched the end of the France vs. England match on the giant screens while slowly drifting through the marina.
The cadence never changed.
Search with the JigPara.
Follow with the Free Rig.
Dissect with the Uni.
Rinse.
Repeat.
Dock after dock.
Fish after fish.
Exactly the way I’d envisioned it.
It was one of those rare afternoons where there was nowhere else I’d rather have been.
The funny thing is…
The fish isn’t really what I’ll remember.
What I’ll remember is realizing that the system worked exactly the way I’d hoped it would.
For the last two months I’d been building it piece by piece.
Learning tides.
Learning current.
Learning positioning.
Learning dock selection.
Learning bait progression.
Learning how each rod solved a different problem.
Saturday wasn’t about experimenting anymore.
It was the first time I stopped testing and simply trusted the process from launch to take-out.
The three-pound spottie wasn’t luck.
It was validation.
I’d built a repeatable system, trusted it for an entire day, and it delivered exactly the result I’d been working toward.
Turns out the goal wasn’t really catching the fish.
The goal was building a system capable of finding it.
The personal best was just the receipt.
