AnglerBob
09-23-2008, 05:15 PM
There’s nothing like a little surf fishing, is there? Enjoying sand, waves and surf. Pretty girls in bikinis. Dolphins frolicking in the foam. Most importantly, not having to worry about your blissful beach day being interrupted by having to reel in fish.
Now, I know that technically, catching fish in the surf is possible: we’ve all seen reports from Wingnut where he reels in a legal halibut, corbina, dorado, and 40-lb king salmon in an hour from underneath the Venice pier. But, I, personally was not so optimistic.
The day started at 8am when I met Bassmaster Jack at Norm’s Big Fish bait shop in Seal Beach. We asked the proprietor what to use for bait, Jack having his heart set on ghost shrimp. “I’d recommend mussels in the surf,” the man said. “They stay on better. But you know what’s really been the big story are these new nuclear worms.” With that, he produced a plastic box and placed it on the counter. I noted it was $9.00. In it, a strange sci-fi creature pulsed and squirmed. It was the color of hot dogs left in the sun too long. Of intestinal surgery. Of an unsuccessful lap dancer’s discontinued Rite-Aid eye shadow. “There may be only one worm in there,” the man explained. “You have to cut them up.” Jack was intrigued. I opted for the mussels.
We ended up heading for Sunset Beach armed with 6lb test spinning outfits, Berkeley Gulp baits, mussels and—you guessed it—nuclear worms. As we parked and set up Carolina rigs with 3/4 oz weights for the heavy surf, Jack began vivisecting nuclear worms on his car bumper.
Now, I know this sounds cruel to many people who think one shouldn’t treat another living creature this way. But the worm—easily three feet long and half an inch in diameter at its widest—did not appear to mind being vivisected. In fact, the newly-created wormlings regrouped, shook hands and quickly squirmed towards Jack, clearly with the intention of slithering up any available bodily orifices. The head section seemed to be outfitted with small antennae and a movable proboscis. Animal cruelty, perhaps; but I guarantee you there is not a Greenpeace activist alive who wouldn’t take one look at this thing, grab her Crate and Barrel Tofu Knife and turn it into sustainable, locally-harvested cat food.
On to the fishing. Sunset beach proved too tough due to massive kelp stringers, which fight pretty hard on 6 lb test and a good undertow, so we headed further south to Bolsa Chica (which I think means “Bag Lady” in Spanish). There were fewer kelp masses, but more surfers. I feared a confrontation, but it did not happen; they were extraordinarily friendly. Then something weird happened. Jack began catching fish. Mostly small surf perch; some silvery, some barred. He tried to show me the technique. “Reel it back very slowly, like a little thing crawling over the sand, “ he explained. Abandoning the nuclear worms, he’d gone back to the Gulp baits, with excellent results.
I couldn’t get it right. Eventually, my cheap reel corroded, the line tangled, a sudden riptide knocked me down and I remembered why I never do this. I happily settled for enjoying the sun and wondering how wet an ATM card has to get to not work. Jack ended up with five or six perch for a morning’s fishing.
As an added treat, we witnessed a few anglers near a jetty bring in a huge leopard shark, snap a picture and release it (way cool). As we left the area, we discretely tossed the remaining nuclear worm, hoping this wouldn’t result in some summer horror-movie scene on the news later. Back at the car, Jack noticed a strange trail of nuclear worm waste on his bumper. “Maybe I’ll just sell my car,” he said with a shiver of revulsion.
Might try it again next year. Meanwhile, I think I’ll wait for October when the lakes cool down and I can fail to catch stripers. Tight lines all...
Now, I know that technically, catching fish in the surf is possible: we’ve all seen reports from Wingnut where he reels in a legal halibut, corbina, dorado, and 40-lb king salmon in an hour from underneath the Venice pier. But, I, personally was not so optimistic.
The day started at 8am when I met Bassmaster Jack at Norm’s Big Fish bait shop in Seal Beach. We asked the proprietor what to use for bait, Jack having his heart set on ghost shrimp. “I’d recommend mussels in the surf,” the man said. “They stay on better. But you know what’s really been the big story are these new nuclear worms.” With that, he produced a plastic box and placed it on the counter. I noted it was $9.00. In it, a strange sci-fi creature pulsed and squirmed. It was the color of hot dogs left in the sun too long. Of intestinal surgery. Of an unsuccessful lap dancer’s discontinued Rite-Aid eye shadow. “There may be only one worm in there,” the man explained. “You have to cut them up.” Jack was intrigued. I opted for the mussels.
We ended up heading for Sunset Beach armed with 6lb test spinning outfits, Berkeley Gulp baits, mussels and—you guessed it—nuclear worms. As we parked and set up Carolina rigs with 3/4 oz weights for the heavy surf, Jack began vivisecting nuclear worms on his car bumper.
Now, I know this sounds cruel to many people who think one shouldn’t treat another living creature this way. But the worm—easily three feet long and half an inch in diameter at its widest—did not appear to mind being vivisected. In fact, the newly-created wormlings regrouped, shook hands and quickly squirmed towards Jack, clearly with the intention of slithering up any available bodily orifices. The head section seemed to be outfitted with small antennae and a movable proboscis. Animal cruelty, perhaps; but I guarantee you there is not a Greenpeace activist alive who wouldn’t take one look at this thing, grab her Crate and Barrel Tofu Knife and turn it into sustainable, locally-harvested cat food.
On to the fishing. Sunset beach proved too tough due to massive kelp stringers, which fight pretty hard on 6 lb test and a good undertow, so we headed further south to Bolsa Chica (which I think means “Bag Lady” in Spanish). There were fewer kelp masses, but more surfers. I feared a confrontation, but it did not happen; they were extraordinarily friendly. Then something weird happened. Jack began catching fish. Mostly small surf perch; some silvery, some barred. He tried to show me the technique. “Reel it back very slowly, like a little thing crawling over the sand, “ he explained. Abandoning the nuclear worms, he’d gone back to the Gulp baits, with excellent results.
I couldn’t get it right. Eventually, my cheap reel corroded, the line tangled, a sudden riptide knocked me down and I remembered why I never do this. I happily settled for enjoying the sun and wondering how wet an ATM card has to get to not work. Jack ended up with five or six perch for a morning’s fishing.
As an added treat, we witnessed a few anglers near a jetty bring in a huge leopard shark, snap a picture and release it (way cool). As we left the area, we discretely tossed the remaining nuclear worm, hoping this wouldn’t result in some summer horror-movie scene on the news later. Back at the car, Jack noticed a strange trail of nuclear worm waste on his bumper. “Maybe I’ll just sell my car,” he said with a shiver of revulsion.
Might try it again next year. Meanwhile, I think I’ll wait for October when the lakes cool down and I can fail to catch stripers. Tight lines all...