The Harbor Blueprint: A 3-Stage Visual Playbook for Marina Bass
If you’ve read this site for any length of time, you already know I spend most of my time chasing largemouth. Docks are docks. Shade is shade. Bass are bass. Sure, harbor spotted bay...
Does it taste salty?
If you’ve read this site for any length of time, you already know I spend most of my time chasing largemouth. Docks are docks. Shade is shade. Bass are bass. Sure, harbor spotted bay...
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 float tube is proof that Americans are an optimistic bunch. We willingly strap ourselves into what amounts to an inflatable recliner, kick a mile from shore with just enough fishing tackle to keep...
My float tube and I were somewhere beneath the shadow of a monolithic concrete highway span, kicking along the pillars after launching at the “other” Mother’s Beach, when my legs let me know they...
I see a lot of guys posting float tube reports down in San Diego targeting natural bays and estuaries, fan-casting swimbaits, and slow-rolling moving baits across acres of eelgrass filled flats and channels. Even...
I pulled my hamstring the other day trying to nutmeg the dog with a fútbol move—a completely undignified injury, the details of which do not matter. The true weight of my stupidity didn’t hit...
The first time Lake Skinner punched me in the mouth, I was fishing a club tournament as a guest with Big Ed. Funny enough, I’d end up joining that same club years later, which...
I’ve started realizing that the more I fish for Spotted Bay Bass, the more they remind me of psychopathic little largemouth living in a saltwater urban housing development. “The Projects,” if you will. They...
The Swimbaiter kept firing a glide — looked like a DRT Klash — into a field of drifting grass at Probation Pond, harvesting weeds more efficiently than fish. It’s a familiar kind of optimism...
We were crawling back home north on the 5, tail between our legs, dodging the usual San Diego Driving Academy graduates. You know the ones. Dudes trailering boats in the fast lane, brake-checkers, and...