I have tried to entice them with wooly buggers, crayfish, poppers, grasshopper/cricket patterns and large elk hair, but to no avail. I’m nearly sure they are mocking me, because, every time we go, as it’s nearing 5 in the afternoon, they begin to jump at regular intervals right in front of the reeds. I can see them clearly when they jump. They are unmistakably bass (1 to 2 pounds). I know where they are. I cast upstream and let the fly float down to them. Nothing. I try to drop a fly on top of them. Nothing. I roll cast. Nothing.
By Roland Trevino
I went fishing with my dad at the L.A. River this weekend. He was using a 4-wt. rod with a yellow popper and casting above the tail-out of a large pool. On his first cast he got a short strike that broke the water.
After a couple of casts, and a nice splash, he hooked into a real fighter.
At first, we thought he had hooked a large Green Sunfish, but after a short battle, he landed this little Largemouth Bass!
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Finally, a day off.
I was so excited to get down to the river that when I saw this guy decked out in hip waders, I thought he was a nature photographer and kept going. Only his, “Hey, wait a minute,” stopped me. His name was Mark; and besides hip waders, he was also wearing “the hat.” That would be the “A Sewer Runs Through It,” baseball cap that Fisherman’s Spot probably still sells, but shouldn’t, given all of the efforts to legitimize the Los Angeles River in the last few years. His was spiffy gray, mine, a worn orange.
Oh, and he’d just fought a large carp into his backing, almost losing her as the fish wrapped his line around one of the many substantial rocks in the water. I saw the pic, and all I can say is, Mark, if you read this, send it to me!
Did you see the weather yesterday? Eighty-four degrees, gusting Santa Anas, and the water in our rio was crystal clear, not a strand of blooming seaweed mucking up the works. The flow was even and awesome, just the right amount of current so that gentle mends kept my fly where I wanted it to be.
And, there were fish. I spotted four in about 10 minutes, including a large female with her male companion right where Mark told me he’d just had his “come-to-backing” moment. From the fishy behavior I saw, I think they were pre-spawn. In other words, get out there now. Once the spawn hits in a few weeks, you’ll see lots of fish that have only one thing on their minds, and it’s not your fly. Bring your camera or Go Pro. It’s amazing to witness the spectacle once it begins.
But here’s the sad truth about those four fish: I spooked them all. One thing to remember — and you’d think I’d remember it by now — is that when you walk along the cement waterside, the fish are within a foot or two of your position. That’s the good and the bad news, if you’re sight fishing — and why else would any fly fisher be down there? — if you see them, they can see you as well. That’s why the super-clear water makes it almost as tricky to fish as casting into a “gin-clear” still trout pond.
I was also intrigued that Mark caught his beast on what looked to be an Orvis specialty fly, not one of the home-tied chartreuse egg patterns most of us use on the river. I pulled out a crawdaddy imitation, which I purchased at Orvis, threw in, got hooked, lost the fly. Boom. The good news about weighted eyes is that you don’t need to add weight, like you would to an unweighted egg to get it down into the current. The bad news: watch the many crevices that line the Glendale Narrows portion of the river. They’re a bad snag waiting to happen.
If you know anything about carp behavior, you’ll change yours to match theirs. In other words, wait a bit if you’ve spooked them, and they’ll come back. Carp habitually cruise in big circles, at least in our river. And sure enough, I kept spotting the amorous pair, again and again.
How do you spot a carp? First, buy some decent Polarized sunglasses, to help you see into the water. Also, don’t fish into glare. Know where the sun will be before you go. It’s So. Cal. and that means bright.
Usually you won’t see the entire fish, although given the distance I mentioned,it is possible. Rather, look for anything that doesn’t seem quite right. It could be a blur in the water, something moving out of the ordinary. What keeps it interesting is the bottom detritus. Could be almost anything that resembles a fish tale: that awful seaweed, a plastic bag (go L.A. City bag ban!), or something you really don’t want to be able to name.
Anyway, I got so lost in it all that two hours passed before I knew it. That’s two hours of beautiful water time right in the heart of Los Angeles.
Am I upset I didn’t hook up?
If I get Mark’s photo and post it, you’ll know the answer soon enough.
See you on the river, Jim Burns