SILVERADO, CALIFORNIA— Legendary though it may be, a Mississippi moon had nothing on a nearly full California moon shining down last week on the greenish/blue water of Irvine Lake. The catfish were definitely jumping, and while not in black water, as the classic Doobie Brothers’ song goes, the moonlight was making everything all right.
These ideal conditions greeted five fortunate anglers—three women of varying fishing levels and experience and two men, both fishing industry experts. The evening outing could have been dubbed the “Estrogen Experiment,” or the “Estrogen Extravaganza,” depending upon the outcome. Either way, it was the first time any of us women had dared to try catching the feisty whiskerfish.
We couldn’t have come to a better locale than the ’Vine. Situated at the base of the Cleveland National Forest yet incredibly close to the bustling City of Orange, Irvine Lake is recognized by many as a prime trout and bass fishery. Because of its large population of farm-raised channel cats—150,000 are planted from June to September, including albino cats—as well as healthy numbers of the bigger, indigenous blue cats, the lake also attracts anglers who seem to never get enough of the frisky critters.
With that in mind, noted radio and television personality as well as marketing director for the lake, Ronnie Kovach, invited saltwater queen, Jenny Armstrong of Aliso Viejo, Calif., who has been busy of late with her newly-formed Pacific Edge Lady Anglers group; enthusiastic fishing novice, Sonia Barajas of Garden Grove, Calif., who’d recently participated in one of Kovach’s seminars and was looking for another way to “spend money and quit buying expensive make-up”; and this curious reporter, who is well known for trying almost anything, at least once. We would be practicing catch and release only, Kovach said, assuring us we’d all have the opportunity to get limits.
At Kovach’s side, assisting quite ably was Owner hooks’ Dennis Yamamoto, who, under normal circumstances wouldn’t be caught dead fishing for bottom-dwelling species unless they had both eyes on the same side of their head. (“I never purposefully fish for catfish,” Yamamoto said. “I only catch them by accident when I’m fishing for bass.”) But there wasn’t anything “normal” about this trip.
Unable to convincingly disguise himself and becoming skittish every time I took out my camera—“Please don’t publish any of the pictures I’m in, I wouldn’t want any of my saltwater friends seeing me with a catfish”—Yamamoto did willingly contribute to the overall atmosphere of the trip. He added both levity and philosophical insight to the mix, making it a fun experience for all. (“When Ronnie said he was having only women on the trip, I couldn’t pass it up.”)
Using mainly the Owner red SSW 3/0 hook, we quickly learned from Yamamoto that not only saltwater species can be successfully caught with it but that catfish are also attracted by its color. On those hooks we placed nice healthy chunks of garlic/mint-dipped mackerel filets, tasty morsels channel cats can’t resist.
We got on the first spot, near the dam, at about 4 p.m., and Kovach quickly told us that although the cats would be suspended at about 30 feet, they could also be just three feet below and intercept our lines on the way down. As such, Kovach had us “dead-sticking” off the bow and stern of the pontoon, a technique he said works best for the pressure-sensitive cats.
“The main thing is that no weight is used,” said Kovach, who likened the fight of the cats to that of sand bass. “The biggest single misconception is you need weights for cats. Their barbells are so sensitive, they can feel the weight and know there’s something around that’s unnatural.”
Not even two minutes after precisely abiding by Kovach’s instructions, Barajas got bit on the sink. “I didn’t feel hardly anything,” she said. “I just saw the line move quickly.” For her efforts, she had herself a nice, 3-pound male.
No sooner had I placed my camera back into its case after taking a photo of Barajas’ fish than Yamamoto, who was keeping an attentive eye on Armstrong and me, told me I had a bite. I promptly picked up my rod and reeled in a 4 pounder. I was beginning to have fun and looked forward to a prolific evening.
Armstrong, the expert angler, who as a teen worked as a pinhead on the Pacific Dawn when it was docked in Oxnard, Calif., was the last to get bit. “I’m used to fish breaking the line,” she said. “This is a little too subtle.” It didn’t take her long, however, to figure out the intricacies of catfishing and she ended the evening with double limits.
Barajas, who was at Kovach’s side, intent on absorbing all she could in one outing, was bit again, but lost it just as quickly. She seemed unfazed and willing to do whatever it took to become a proficient angler.
“Pull the rod up real easy so he doesn’t feel it,” Kovach said to Barajas. “Get ready, get ready, get ready…swing…wind, wind, wind…you’re on!” Kovach peered into the water and then shook his head. “He got off.”
Barajas uttered a common expletive and we all laughed. While it caught the rest of us off guard, no one was offended and it broke the ice. She pointed out that the word—as well as other “cuss” words—came in handy on her first overnight trip recently. Initially uncomfortable as the only female on board that boat, she diffused the tension by using the same language the men were using.
“You’ve got to treat the fish like the last guy who really dissed you bad,” Kovach said fittingly when Barajas had another line in the water. Heeding his advice, she got bit and reeled this one in.
Kovach’s humor must have entered my subconscious because not long after his comment, I had another bite, but this cat was remarkably more spirited than the first. “Pull up easy,” Yamamoto, the designated “bait boy,” reminded me, “and crank on the way down.” I am, I thought, but I could feel the monster taking more and more line even as I cranked hard.
“You’ve got to be patient, Rochelle, let him run a little,” Kovach interjected, “now pull, pull, pull!”
I honestly thought I’d never be able to wind it all in without help and kept thinking Kovach was right about their energy.
Oh, to look as poised and confident as Armstrong does when she reels her line in, I thought. Instead of cussing, I just grunted a lot, which got laughs from the rest of the group. Still, I knew I had to get tough. When I finally got it to the surface and Yamamoto had his net ready to bring it aboard, I saw this mass of iridescent flesh and realized why it’d nearly worn my arms off—it was huge!
“It looks like a 15 pounder,” Kovach said decisively. Being the novice “cat woman,” I had no idea except to trust his judgment. Holding it up for a photo op, it felt heavy, but not quite 15 pounds. Close enough, though, and it went into the lakes’ report as such.
At about 5:45, we pulled anchor and moved to Rocky Point, where, as Kovach put it, “the big boys are.” He was talking, of course, about the blue catfish, the ones that can get up to 80-plus pounds. “I want really good knots here, ladies,” Kovach said.
Unfortunately, as the sun descended behind the mountain and the wind kicked up, the blues were nowhere to be found. No matter where we cast, no one got bit. We even tried a special concoction Kovach called an “Irvine cocktail,” which consisted of mackerel topped off with a blood-flavored Power Bait catfish bait chunk, all dipped in Berkley garlic-mint trout dip.
An hour and a half later, we pulled anchor again and set off to Duck Blind Cove, just beyond the boat dock. There, with the hazy red sky as a backdrop, we once again were getting bit.
“I got into this because I wanted to try a new hobby and I figured I give it a try,” said Barajas whose largest cat was a 12 pounder. “I really had a lot of fun. It was really relaxing.
“It’s very satisfying to catch a fish, cook it yourself and put it on the table and say, ‘Here honey.’”
Another “escapade in estrogen” is planned within the next few weeks. Stay tuned.
