Pacifica Pier News

LIFE, IF YOU’RE not careful, is a backwater of good intentions and unfulfilled dreams.

The set of left-handed golf clubs I bought myself in 1981 has never seen a green. The miniature electric organ my sisters got me for Christmas in 1985 has yet to play a tune. Then, there’s my collection of unread classics carefully compiled at countless garage sales and thrift shops across America.

But of all the flotsam adrift in the ebb tide of my life, there is nothing more useless than my fishing tackle. There was the rod and reel I bought myself in 1980 in a futile attempt to catch a striper under the I Street Bridge. I added a net and fish knife in 1981 after seeing four 35-pound stripers caught off Pacifica Pier. The net and the fish knife have seen as much action as my golf clubs.

Fishing, I decided, was best left for my old age. And then I read that the Earth Week doomsayers predict there won’t be any fish left by the year 2010 long before my old age. So I called Hap’s Bait Shop in Rio Vista and signed on with Barry Canevaro and Tim O’Shea, two of the wiliest fishing guides in the Delta.

These guys fish 300 days a year, in rain, tule fog and high wind, which is what we had Thursday. They’ve seen it all, and what they haven’t seen, they make up. Remember Humphrey, the wrong-way whale who visited Rio Vista in 1985? I chased Humphrey out of the Delta, Barry said. Added Tim, in what was to become a familiar refrain, You ain’t fishing with the rest, you’re fishing with the best. Barry told me, Don’t bring any bananas they’re bad luck.I could tell this was going to be a highly scientific expedition.

As we bounced up river on the Fish”N’Fool III, Barry said, We like fish that pull on the tip of the rod. We’ll be trolling for striped bass. He pronounced it stry-PED, like all true anglers.

The striped bass, an Atlantic fighting fish introduced to California in the early 1900s, is on its way out, thanks to dams, water pumps and drought. But there are still some 750,000 adult stripers spawning in the Delta, and Tim predicted they’d start hitting the lures at 11:30. Reflecting over my past fishing performances, I asked my fellow anglers if they ever got skunked. No such thing, said Barry.

Remember, you could’ve been with the rest but you’re with the best.

BARRY, 48, has been fishing the Delta for 40 years, 16 of them professionally. When I started doing this for a living, I was taking seven different pills for blood pressure. Now I take none, he said. There’s no pressure, except the pressure to catch fish. If I can’t catch fish, it drives me crazy.

Tim, 36, noted, There’s some boats that just don’t catch fish, especially if there’s a banana on board. We were out shark fishing last summer doing a fish story when this photographer broke out the bananas. As soon as the dreaded fruit appeared, I went on a five-day run without a shark. I had to wash my boat down and everything. I wondered what effect a giant pickle would have. I had barely sunk my teeth into it when there was a ferocious hit. Could be a sturgeon! said Barry as I reeled in like a madman. If sturgeons are shaped like plastic bags, I hauled in one heckuva sturgeon.

It was nearly noon and we hadn’t gotten a keeper, only a couple of shakers we threw back. If Tim and Barry were worried, they could have fooled me. I wish I could figure out women the way I could figure out fish, said Tim.

He gets a lot of shakers, added Barry.

It was time to get serious Barry turned on some country music. You cannot catch a sturgeon on rock ‘n’ roll, no way possible.They like the Judds, added Tim.

Sure enough, when the Judds came on the radio singing Why Not Me? a monster fish nearly bent my rod in two. Before I could say, One Woman Man, the fish had snapped the lure right off.

That fish was on a mission, said Tim. He hit that thing like a freight train.Ten minutes later, the Judds came on again, and before I knew it, I was locked in mortal combat with a 12-pound stry-ped bass. By 12:20, I had it in the boat, and I landed another 12-pounder for good measure. Hey, I’ve got pictures to prove it.

I was feeling pretty smug about my catch when Barry shook his head. That was probably a 40-pound fish that got away when the Judds came on, he said.

Yup, Steve, you lost a 55-pounder right there, said Tim, rubbing it in. Alls we can do is put you on it. After that, it’s your fault. STEPHEN MAGAGNINI’s column appears Monday, Wednesday and Friday in Scene.

OF BANANAS, JUDDS AND OTHER FISH TALES
SACRAMENTO BEE
April 23, 1990
STEPHEN MAGAGNINIBy STEPHEN MAGAGNINI
Edition: METRO FINAL
Section: SCENE
Page: B4
Record Number: 087