On Friday, Logan, Tyler Alvarado and I went fishing at Silverwood Lake by my home.  We went with the sole intent of fishing for striper and large-mouthed bass and we held true to that intention despite all indications that our success rate would be low.

 

We packed up, readied my fine vessel and headed out at 6:15am.  We were at the lake by 7:00am and found to our enormous irritation that the lake actually opened at six o'clock instead of seven o'clock.  I had called the day before to find out the opening time and thusly arranged our schedules.  So, we missed the best top-water time of the day.

 

Undeterred we launched our craft and went to the Miller Canyon arm and began casting top-water.  About 10 minutes into it, I had a large blow-up and a fish hooked but upon setting the hook, the fish dropped the bait.

 

Having had such immediate success, we were cheered and were looking forward to a wonderful day fishing.

 

We soon moved to the Cleghorn arm and had no luck.  We moved out to the inlet by the buoys and here the excitement began.

 

As it is want to do at Silverwood, the wind began to pick up a bit.  Since we were fishing in waters 80' deep, it was difficult to anchor down properly but we tried.  Soon we were pushed against the buoy line and rather than making a fuss, we tied up to it, despite the signs telling us not to do so.

 

Nearby, an agreeable young man in a kayak-looking thing, began slaying the striper.  He was connecting at least every 10 minutes and we tried to mimick his every movement.  Anticipating our success, however, a park ranger drove his boat up and yelled at us to "GET AWAY FROM THE BUOY LINE!"  We argued that the wind had pushed us there but he cared not...  He patiently waited until ourselves and all neighboring crafts had moved away and then he drove off, all the while casting suspicious glances in our direction.

 

We tried once again to anchor down but once again were soon pushed against the line.  We backed off and tried again... and again.  We never succeeded.  In fact, the last attempt was so pathetic that the wind pushed our entire boat OVER the line.  Desperately we started the motor, gave it gas and WOUND THE BOUY LINE IN THE PROPELLER!!!  The motor died, the wind howled, Logan wept and I screamed.

 

Eventually, I was able to tilt up the motor, have Tyler hold it and disengage the cable from the miraculously undamaged propeller.  We pushed off, counted our blessings and moved on to different areas of the lake.

 

We attempted to use the main motor of the boat as a trolling motor by alternately switching from forward to neutral to reverse, etc and were moderately successful... but not with the fish.

 

We traveled around the edges of the lake casting into corners and by stumps and brush with no success.  Our casting did drastically improve though.

 

We soon were casting into little holes from 30' out with the accuracy of Kevin VanDam.  We began mini competitions between us over who could cast into predefined tight corners of the bank.  I hung my lure in trees, brush and rocks and learned that rattle-trap lures are prone to holding hard and fast to whatever they lay their hooks upon.

 

It became windier and later and soon we were motivated to leave the lake.  We retrailered the boat, cleaned up and left.

 

All in all it was a good day and indeed a FANTASTIC time was had by all. I can honestly say it was the funest fishing trip I have ever had when I caught nothing.

 

We were skunked but I will go back... soon.

 

Tyler with his game face on.

Logan looking weary.

Me looking rough.

Silverwood boat launch at 7:00am.

A little bird in a tree.

Fish finder with bird poo.

Floating outhouses.

This was a catfish swimming around on TOP of the water, we tried to net him but he dived on us.

Mr. Hobie whipping the striper.

The inlet.

My homemade deck.

A pretty bridge.

The dial that kept slipping and slowing the boat.

The competition lures, a Castaic swim-bait and a rattle-trap which I tragically lost.