Hobby Sports

In the morning The Major took me to breakfast after he had finished his PT. We headed south to Fort Hood. The Major had some business t take care of and asked if I wanted to tag along. I said sure I have nothing better to do, I can at least check out the base. We picked up two of his captians and one of his sargents to recon part of the base where they needed to plan a training exercise. This allowed me to see one of their urban training mock cities. Built in the 80s, the mock city is modeled after a typical Eastern European town. The Army has now converted it to look more Middle Eastern by adding Arabic signs and a mosque. "Looks like Bosnia now," I said. Eventually they were done and The Major handed me his keys to his truck.

I drove from Fort Hood to Nacogdoches borrowing my friend’s Dodge Ram Pick up. The truck ran great I actually liked driving it. I’m glad I visited my friend and drove the four hours as I saw some pretty country that I would otherwise never have seen. Ever so often while driving on the 7, a historical marker sign in 1 mile would be posted. After passing a few I decided to stop at one and take a picture of it if it was interesting. I was thinking it would be something cool like “Davy Crokett did this here…” When I stopped at a convenient one, I was thoroughly disappointed. I do not recall what the marker said but I was not impressed and wished that I had just continued driving.

I arrived at about 4PM at the range as I missed the barracks. At the range I saw a LMVT parked at the edge of the first range. Around it was a few of the reservists from Oklahoma. I jumped out of the truck and said hello. I talked with a few, some asking me what I did as I had a DoD sticker on the truck. They must have taught I was some contractor or something as I had unshaven (I forgot to pack my razor and was too lazy and cheap to get one) with longer hair. I let them know I was nothing more than a civilian and the truck belonged to a friend. I went to say hello to Paul who was at the other range. Paul let me know he was going to open up the barracks. So I drove back to the LMVT and talked to one of the Captains. I asked if I could take a look at the truck. The Good Ole Boy said “Hell you wanna git in it.” I replied hell yeah. He opened it up for me and I sat at the driver’s seat and checked out the layout.

After looking over the truck I headed out to the barracks to meet Paul. He showed me around and let me know where everything is. There were already 15 Army Reservists occupying the bottom bunks. Paul let me know about the clubhouse and let me know only one person was staying there. We drove to see it. After showing it to me he asked where I wanted to stay. I figured the house was fine since I was already there. He gave me the key and took off after a brief chat about the game on his property. I unpacked my laptop and noticed that I wasn’t receiving a WiFi signal. I drove back to the range and found Paul who let me know internet is only at the barracks. So I asked if I could stay there instead. No problems.

When I got went back to the barracks another Captain showed me around which bunks were free. He asked if I wanted to sleep in the same room with a bunch of stinky, dirty army guys, and if I did not he could move his men all into another room. I let him know you don’t need to accommodate me for anything and I’ll just pick a bunk. As the reservists started to make their way back, they introduced themselves.

Later on in the night as more people made there way into the barracks. Two guys dressed in Magpul t-shirts rolling their pelican cases with Magpul stickers. They entered the room I was staying in. I walked in to introduce myself and they let me know they both worked for Magpul. I had thought one looked somewhat familiar, I then recognized him from the precision rifle trailer.

Eventually after some introductions and BSing with everyone we called it a night.

Ive seen a bass take a duckling before. Ive seen a trout take a mouse.  Ive even seen a pike take a piglet before.  This is the first time Ive seen a catfish take a pigeon, until now.  That is the River Tarn in Southwest France and that is a European catfish.

Canyon Lake is an affluent gated community located in Riverside County. Since high school I have had access to this lake as one of my best childhood friends has a residence here. Back in college when I started fly fishing it was here I cut my teeth fishing for bass on the fly. Also I believe it was here I caught some of my first species on the fly. Throughout the first part of this century I fished quite a bit as my buddy would come to his home here several times a year inviting me almost every time. In 2004 or so he stopped coming here regularly as work and family obligations took more of his time. That was the last time I fished here until today my new buddy Luc who invited me to fish.  All it cost me were a few flies which I was more than happy to give away.
I met Luc at 5am at his house. We loaded his boat with my gear and headed to the launch ramp. Saturday there was a bass tournament so Luc was preparing me for a tough day. Topwater was first on the agenda. Luc likes fishing big flies and he started with a 10 weight and a big hard bodied popper. Armed with my 8 weight XP, I started with a hard bodied frog pattern that Luc suggested. It proved to big for my rod and later switched to a diver Luc suggested. After a few drifts past several banks it too proved to cumbersome for the 8 weight so I moved to Webbs Folded Foamhead. Several hours past without any takes.

Luc gets the skunk off the boat with a topwater take

Luc finally managed a topwater rise. It was a 2 or 2.5 pound bass. Finally the skunk was off the boat. Now with the sun out in full force we moved to subsurface presentations.  Hours past and I was constantly changing flies looking for the right presentation.

It took what seemed like eternity to get any bites. I kept missing fish. Luc was shocked that we were having such a hard time. Each cove, according to him, should have produced at least one bass many times more. I told him my bad luck just rubbed off on him and he shouldnt have invited me.   He just laughed it off but I was serious. Its not been my week. We were fishing some deep areas so I borrowed one for his rigs.  A 7 weight Sage RPL+  with a Airflow Depthfinder fast sinking line and his favorite fly an unweighted olive woolly bugger.  Luc likes fishing unweighted flies and letting the line take the fly down.

An average Canyon Lake bass 3 pounds.

I must have switched flies more than a dozen times.  As we started moving toward the shallower portion of the lake and a deep sinking line was not needed I moved from one side of the boat to the other.  In the process, with all the line stripped to the floor, I tangled Lucs line badly.  I spent the next 30 minutes or so trying to untangle the line.  Luc told me to just forget it and fish my other rig.  Not knowing Luc well enough, I didnt want to leave it for him to fix.  Eventually I just gave up and left it in frustration.  I picked up my favorite 5 weight and tried several flies before tying my Fugly S.O.B. in purple.  Soon enough I was on.  My first bass was a 3 pounder.  Luc let me know this is about an average fish here.  Back in my day, I would have given my left nut for a 3 pounder.  Ten years ago or so my personal best was maybe one and half.  Of course then I was just an novice/intermediate fly fisherman but I never saw a bass like that here.  If this is the average the lake has definitely gotten better from when I was fishing it.  It must be the fact that shad is everywhere.  You can see them swimming and Luc was showing me how to read his fish finder and sure enough they were everywhere.

A nice Canyon Lake representative.

My first Catfish on a fly

Taking flight.

This area is loaded with fish, mostly shad with crappie and bass mixed in.

I had an absolutely great time despite what Luc called disappointing.  No matter, I have a special place in my heart for this lake as it was where my fly fishing path started.  Fishing today brought back a lot of fond memories some of which I shared with Luc.  One story was back in those days, the lakehouse was party central for my buddies and since most of us were either just out of college or in college most of them came just to drink and party.  I didnt care for that I came for the fishing and one of the rules of the house, my buddy set, was to prove your party animal status was you couldnt go to sleep until I woke up to go fishing at 5 or 6 in the morning.  Only then would you have proven your worth.  I remember numerous times fishing on my buddys dock looking up after hearing the sliding door open only to see one of my buddies leaning over the balcony puking his guts out.  Good times.

Over the years I have been asked how to use a gut hook on a bird knife, Ive even seen the same question asked on internet hunting forums.  So Ive posted this video to help anyone who is still looking for an answer.   

Pluck the bird first and then follow the video. 

Called Up From the Bench, Ghetto Steelhead, Missed hits, Monster Bluegill and Ass Rapings


Monster 2 Pound Bluegill (*Edit* This is actually a Redear not a Bluegill as previously thought)

With rain forecasted this weekend, Chul and I hit Mission Viejo Lake one more time.  After the last visit and armed with a little more knowledge, I was amped up to head out there.  Our original intention was to fish it yesterday but since it was a trout plant day, the lake was closed to fishing.

So we came today.  I am still convinced I can get one of those lunker bass that live here.  With that thought in mind I called up from the bench some old rods that have been collecting dust in the corner.  I brought my Sage RPLXI 9wt that has been fished so rarely that the cork handle is still clean.  I also brought, since breaking my favorite T&T 5wt, my Sage XP 5wt that I built years ago.  My game plan was to fish the big rod with my big articulated trout fly until I either caught a fish or became tired of casting the big rod.

"Ghetto Steelhead"

Chul was the first to hook up with a basszilla fly on his Sage 6wt.  To his surprise, it turned out to be a stocker trout.  It hit his fly hard and gave him many head shakes.  These are Nebraska Tailwaters and Chul affectionately refers to them as ghetto steelhead.  I was surprised how well it fought and how nicely formed the fins were.  Coloration was nice too.  These are not your typical DFG stockers that lie down and die when you hook them.  The fish was probably 18 inches or more and was rather fat and healthy.  It was a nice fish for a stocker.


We made into one cove where we were being thrown around like a rag doll by the wind.   With a purple wooly bugger I threw toward the middle of the cove and managed to get a fish.  I retrieved him toward the boat and noticed it to be a juvenile bass.  It popped off just before I tried to lip it.   I continued to cast in the middle of the cove and my line just stopped.  Initially I thought I sagged some submerged structure but then the line began moving.  The fish ran from the front of the boat and circled to the back going clockwise from the 12 oclock position to the 8 oclock position.  I was shocked to see it was a huge bluegill.  Due to its size, Chul initially thought it was a crappie when it was in the water.  I could not see it from my position but when I finally landed it, I was shocked.  This is the biggest bluegill Ive ever seen live.  I put him on the boga and he measured at 2 pounds.

I Roll Bandido-Style In Search of Big George

While fishing this cove a fisherman on the docks was telling us abut how he caught his trout and strung it up on his canoe, Big George, a 20 pound bass and his almost as large partner (the ones Chul and I saw last time) came up and hit his strung up trout.  I told him that is where Big George lives, we saw him last time.  His trout was at least 2 pounds.  Maybe I need to start casting even larger flies.  Maybe I should rig up some of those Marlin tube flies in a rainbow trout pattern.  We continued to fish here, though the wind was pushing the boat around.  I casted out and noticed my fly line was knotted up.  As I was fixing it my fly was hit hard.  Real hard.  I missed him as my hands were occupied and had no time to react.

Eventually we left this cove to head off to the other side of the lake.  There Chul managed a juvenile bass similar to the one I lost at the boat.  Here we were somewhat protected from the wind and casting and trolling the boat was much more manageable.  The fishing seemed to die after we left this cove.  We left at 5pm and called it a day.  It was not bad for a few hours of fishing. 

Chul with a Juvenile Bass

This Must Be What It Feels Like to be Ass Raped

As the bird season is right around the corner, my focus has begun to shift away from fly fishing towards wingshooting and fine guns. While searching through websites of several fine gun stores I found this gem, a Luffwaffe Drilling from JP Sauer. What a beauty! I have always wanted one of these. This one looks brand new. These guns were issued to airmen flying over North Africa as survival guns. This one appears not to have the original box with ammo and instructions but nonetheless this quite a gun.







J.P. Sauer Drilling 12GA/9.3x74R caliber. Rare WWII Luftwaffe drilling in beautiful condition with a few light handling marks. The bores are mint. The screws are still all indexed. A great piece in original unaltered condition. These guns were issued to North Africa bomber crews to be used as survival guns if the plane went down. This one is in pristine condition. $19,950.00

This is what the original box looked like:

At Least I Got To Touch a Fish

Fishing has been rough the last few outings.  I havent eaten this much shit since I started fly fishing.  I cant believe how many skunks Ive encountered in the last few outings.  The usual suspect and I fished Prado.  This is, at least on paper, spawning season for bass but with all this on again off again weather, the bass must be confused.  It seems every time a bass is ready to bust a load, mother nature splashes cold water at its boner.  Its been making fishing harder than a twelve year old at the playboy mansion. 

Tip Of The Day: Catching Percentages Increase Exponentially If you Have a Hook On Your Fly.

Being a stubborn son of a bitch, I didnt listen to Chul and fish a floating line but rather my 150 grain line.  Perhaps that is the reason he got a fish and I left stinking of the skunk.  Rough day for the both of us but Chul managed a quality 2 pounder after about a gazillion casts.  I had about two gazillion casts and caught a childs sock that I initially thought was a magnum sized condom.  Either way I didnt want to be touching it.

What The Hell Is That? Part Goose, Part Chicken, Part Turkey.  It must be a genetic mutation from all that agricultural run off.

My contribution to Chuls pram: a fly patch I bought in Japan over a decade ago that I intended to use on a boat I never did buy.

Funny, I started this blog three years ago, as my personal hunting journal.  Prior to starting this, I had hunted at least 30 days of the 90 (or 120 if you count the early mountain quail season) bird hunting season.  Since starting this blog though, those days dwindled to pathetic numbers, as seen by the number of actual hunting posts within this blog.  I hope to rectify that this year although, I dont think Ill be getting to the 30 days from the past, I certainly hope the hunting posts do increase this year.

The old man and I decided to take a day and half hunting trip to my usual locations.  We left here around 10am so that I could bypass all the downtown LA traffic.  We made good time as I decided to drive around LA, although it was longer in distance, the lack of traffic saved us much in headaches and time.  While reaching one of my honey holes, I noticed all the dirt roads that allowed access were now posted with "No Trespass" signs.  Great.  The only way to reach my spots legally, is to park on top of the mountain traverse ascend toward the public lands.  Well having forgotten our sandwiches in the car, not having breakfast, and not being in hunting shape, and the combination of higher altitude air, I quickly gave up this idea after about a half of a mile in.  We headed back to the Rover and I decided to hit another not as "honey" but good enough hunting hole. 

The drive to this area from the honey hole is not far.  We made it to to Joels Spring and parked as we ate our sandwiches to fuel up.  Within the first 10 minutes of the hunt Kaiser and I were on birds.  A covey of about five flushed wild in a an area that kaiser was working.  On my first shot, I managed to hit a female valley quail with my 20 gauge size 6 B&P F2 ammo out of my IC barrel of my Merkel 47e.  She fell out of the sky like a sack of potatoes.  Although some consider it too big, Ive decided to start using size 6 shot for quail.  By using it, I cripple less birds and most die immediately making the birds easy to find for the dog.  I can then spend less time searching for a downed bird and more time actually hunting.  Also if I run into chuckars, I will not feel undergunned.  For the rest of the day we were finding singles or pairs.  No big conveys.  Most of these birds were smart, holding tight, and flushing behind a tree or other obstacle so making it impossible for a shot.  We came home with only one bird this evening hunt.  While driving out, as the sun was making its last appearance of the day, a covey of 15 quail flushed in front of the road toward the safety of their roasting area for the night. We made no attempt to go after them as we had only a minutes of light left.  We headed to town for a nice hot Italian meal before we headed to out motel to rest up for tomorrow. 

I always check the crops of the birds I take.  Looks like this gal was feasting on Junipers.

The original plan was to attend the Fly Fishing Film Festival on Saturday but after some consideration the gang thought it better to fish rather than watch others fish.  With some rain in the forecast, we debated all week whether to cancel the trip or to go forward.  Checking weather patterns throughout the week the unanimous consensus was to get our lines wet. 

Saturday morning I met up with Erica and Chul at his house at 6:30 and we managed to get out around 7am.  Tuck had spend the night at Josephs as he lived north of all of us, they would head out later and we would eventually met up on the road or in Kernville. 

We caught up with the boys in the canyon and we headed to the fly shop as Tuck and Joseph wanted to pick up flies and since Erica forgot her wading boots so she needed to rent a pair.  After getting the "inside scoop" we headed to an area suggested to us at the shop.  After arriving we looked the water over and decided to pass on it as it was too windy and deep to get a good drift.  We headed back into town to fish an area hoping to intercept large fish making their way out of the lake and into the river system.  This proved a waste of time.

First fish of 2013.  A real wall hanger.

We drove up into the 20 mile section and pulled over on a promising stretch of water.  On my first cast I hooked up with my first Kern River Rainbow.  My first fish of 2013, a dink, a baitfish sized dink, no bigger than the fish that are commonly caught in our local mountains.    If I wanted dinks I would have stayed and fished our local mountains.  Hopefully this first fish of the year is not an indication of the rest of my fishing season.  I wanted to win the bet, anyone who catches and verifies with photos a fish over 20 inches doesnt have to pay for dinner.  At least I was the first to catch a fish.  After more casts and I hooked up on another slightly larger dink.  Not impressive.  Even if the bet was on an aggregate total of all fish caught Id still be buying dinner.  I continued on this seam as I couldnt really move since we had five anglers on the water.  At the end of my drift while on the swing I finally hooked up a legit fish.  I played him close enough to see his size and he flashed me his vibrant red stripe and then came lose.  Come on.  On this stretch Chul managed a nice 13 incher while the others didnt get any.


My second fish.  Another trophy.  Nothing like traveling several hours away only to catch dinks.

For the rest of the day we drove around looking for better water.  The BWO hatch was coming off and although I wasnt seeing any fish coming up I regretted not carrying a second rod rigged with a dry fly.  So on the next stop I rigged up my four weight with a Harrops Hairwing.  As it was getting late we found a nice stretch of water that Chul was getting hit on just about every cast.  He pulled some serious fish and even managed one on a dry fly.  As I approached him he told me to fish that section but the fish had already shut down.  Up above him Tuck managed one and Joseph landed  several.  None of any significant size.  Erica was skunked.  Fishing was slow for whatever reason perhaps it was the recent rains, the cold nights, or just us fishing the wrong rigs.

We left the river and into town for a dinner.  Everyone would have to pay for this meal. The original plan was to camp but since Chul brought Erica along, they had got a room in town.  Tuck, Joseph and I planned on camping but during dinner we debated whether to get a room also.  After having giving Chul grief earlier for not camping we decided to get a room ourselves.  Lucky for us the motel had a place to play pool.  We spent the night bull shitting, playing pool while drinking.  As typical with trips like these, most of the memories are these parts as these times are spent laughing and ribbing each other.  We eventually were kicked out during closing time, which was a good thing because we would have spent all night there if we could.  Erica and Chul headed to bed as the rest of us headed to our room and before heading to bed debated which state was the best (of course California was not in the running).  Day 2 to follow...