Where there's water, there's a will
SANTA MONICA, Calif. - This wasn't a pleasure trip to the West Coast. In fact this was a very trying experience for me.
My 95-year-old uncle appears to be on a nonstop, downward slide regarding his health.
After days of working to find a comfortable facility for him, I decided to take some time and try to clear my head.
It was a short drive from my hotel to Santa Monica, where the warmer breath of the Pacific Ocean caressed me.
I expected to see a few fishermen on the famous pier here, but I struck out. Another 10 minutes north, I spied a short pier in the Pacific Palisades where a group of three anglers were trying their best to score up some "bites."
My curiosity got the best of me as I parked my vehicle on the side of the road. I watched for 10 minutes before approaching the group. I inquired what they were trying to catch.
In unison, they chimed in, "Anything that will go for the bait." They also stated they had been there for an hour and had a few light bites but nothing that would wind up in a cooler.
I surmised that this may not be the best of times or right seasonal condition to fish from a dock or pier in shallow water near Los Angeles. I also observed a few private fishing boats about a mile offshore, just slowly drifting along with the wind and current.
"Here, take one of my rods," James said. And I did.
He told me he fishes up and down the coastline, sometimes from piers and the other times he and a friend ply the shallows in a small, beat-up skiff.
As we bantered back and forth, I felt a sharp tug on the line. After the second hit, I set the hook and the line started screaming from his old Penn reel.
"You may have a shark or ray on the line," he declared. He was right on target. It took me close to 10 minutes to bring a 5-foot shark to the gaff.
"This will make some good soup and a few decent steaks," he added.
His two other companions were also into fish as well. I use the term fish, but each of the others hooked skates, which are usually small rays.
Out here some anglers eat everything they catch, and these guys were no exception. In fact, sitting next to the cooler they brought along was a small, propane-powered grill. Wishful thinking I mumbled to myself.
Walter liked to use his surf casting rod and reel. He managed to cast a large piece of cut bait a good 75 feet out into the dark green saltwater. He waited a couple minutes and then began slowly reeling toward his location.
"There's usually some calico bass out there," he said, "and they seem to prefer a very slow retrieve. Sometimes they'll follow the bait all the way back and close to the dock."
And he was right. His rod tip flinched a bit and he set the hook. Up came a 2-pound calico. He repeated the process three more times, and each retrieve rewarded him with a fish.
I was feeling more relaxed as the casual observer instead of catching another shark or some other rough fish.
"It's lunch time, Mike," James declared, "and Leo (the third member of this group) will do the honors."
I thought I'd snack on one of their sandwiches, but no, Leo was busily cleaning the fish and preparing them for the grill.
I shared with them my uncle's plight, and all three chimed in that a light lunch of freshly cooked fish would do much to cure the blues. Some fresh coleslaw and potato salad accompanied the filet on my plate, along with a bottle of local brew.
A five-star restaurant couldn't have done any better, and besides it was the companionship of fellow anglers who were kind enough to help make my day a lot brighter.
angler@mikejacksonoutdoors.com