Crown Cove 6/14

Yesterday, after watching a couple soccer matches, I decided to head over to one of my favorite fishing spots for some outdoors time. I got a new digicam the other day, an 8 MP Olympus Stylus, which I brought to try out. Which is good, because the one fish I caught, wiggled off the hook before I could fish my camera out of its case. So I snapped some other shots.

On the path from where I park, near Navy housing, to Crown Cove, at the State Beach I usually, depending on time of day, I see cotton-tails and jack rabbits, mourning doves, hawks, and ospreys.


I saw this bush, the name of which escapes me (fire bush maybe?), and I gave the super macro a try.


I got to a spot on the inner part of Crown Cove, and started to cast around. Despite the fact that the tide was incoming, and it was only slightly windy, the bites weren't coming. In fact, sometimes when you get to a spot and start fishing you can just tell you're not going to catch fish. Something about the conditions just doesn't seem fishy. Yesterday I didn't see any bait fish in the shallows, none busting the surface, no croakers cruising the shore line. It just didn't seem to be happening.

I usually fish a point on the outside of the cove first. It has the benefit of being closer to the main bay, having a good 10 foot drop right off shore, and some good eel grass beds. I was just getting ready to reel in and head out there when a woman dressed in black, in her early 50s, comes strolling past me with her sandals clasped in her hand behind her back, and a sweater around her waist. She looked just like the retirees in the financial brochures we print at work; serene and comfortable and enjoying a long walk on the beach.

Unfortunately, she was heading to the point I wanted to fish. I'm too self conscious to not think how unsavory, or at the least creepy it'd look if, as soon as this woman passed me, I reeled in and followed her out to the distant, isolated point. Especially to the young, cute lifeguard I was fishing near for the last hour. I already imagine the lifeguards think I'm retarded for fishing there. Usually they see hot dog chuckers from the RV city across the street. I did reel in a silicone dive mask at one point.

So I sat down in the sand, changed trailers on my lure, applied some chapstick, and tried to get a pic of an osprey literally hovering over the cove. He was one camera-shy raptor though, as soon as I'd pull my new cam out, he'd fly off. He must have come and gone three times, I felt ridiculous.

I watched the woman in black to see what she was going to do. Poor thing was looking for shells I think. I'm almost positive the sand here is trucked in. The bay just doesn't create the conditions to produce sand. Any shells in this sand are pulverized or picked over. Eventually she worked her way back around, and I stood up and cast around, waiting for her to pass. Once she was five feet past me, I reeled in, secured my lure to the hook holder on my rod, and made the walk around the cove to the point.


It was much, much windier out there. The wind was from the west, and the long flat cove, exaggerated the wind waves. I still wasn't seeing bait fish, boils or anything else but the occasional mullet leap out of the water. I cast around, working the edge of the drop off as best I could, but given the height of the tide, getting a parallel retrieve was difficult. Eventually, I felt a subtle take, swung on it, and reeled in a small, darkly barred, sand bass. He struggled hard enough to get off the hook, while I tried to get my camera out. No matter, he was pretty small.

I'd had enough. I went over to the showers and sprayed the sand off my legs, sat down and had a Cliff bar, exchanged a few text messages about the progress of the Padres game and watched a cute young mom play paddle ball with her kids.

On the way back I had my digicam at the ready and got a few shots off...