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SB T ad Ao jus C S tin a S g t lI o N’
Story & Photos
BY MARC MARCANTONIO
he young gun traveled west more than
35 years ago, hot off two Angler of the
Year titles in Delaware and Maryland. Now
the confident bass angler was ready to conquer Southern California. Landing first in San Diego, he launched his lime glitter MonArk bass boat in Lake San Vicente, home of monster bass of the likes he only dreamed of catching. A quick spin around the lake was all it took for him to real- ize he wasn’t in Delaware anymore. Nothing looked familiar. Even the launch ramp was deeper than the water back east, and clearer than his bathwater.
No docks, no shade, and no tangled cover. Having heard a bass is a bass, anywhere, the determined angler gave his all, but at the end of the day did not have a single bass other than the short bank runner that committed suicide on his purple Mr. Twister Phenom worm.
The next day he rented a boat on Miramar Lake, having read about the huge bass living there. Again he was confused by the bowl filled with gin clear water. After downsizing to the lightest line in his possession, he realized his 14 lb test looked like anchor rope to the bass living here.
Where were the low hanging tree branches to
He did at least manage a keeper here, which
skip under, or the thick lily pads with tangled log jams latched onto his Bagley Killer B crankbait. Things
for Mama Pesce to dart from to ambush bluegill and
were looking up, but it was clear to see this
other prey stupid enough to
young gun had a lot to learn about Southern
swim by? California bassin’.
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