Trout That Look More Like Sitting Ducks

The 18-inch, 3-pound rainbow trout lay shimmering on the bare ground beneath a towering oak tree. It was not exhausted, merely confused.

There had been no struggle. No rising to the dry fly, no frenetic runs through the river’s riffles, no beautiful nor graceful leaps from the water. There had been nothing magnificent at all about the capture of this rainbow trout, a magnificent fish that sends angling purists scurrying around the world in pursuit.

While his finned cousins in New Zealand and Colorado and the High Sierras deftly avoided the best offerings of skilled fisherman, this rainbow trout was only an hour or so away from a sack of Shake ‘n’ Bake and a frying pan. He had not fallen to a Royal Coachman dry fly or a tiny, hand-tied Grey Cahill. The trout that now thrashed in the dirt had been done in by 12-year-old Jason Vancamp and a white butterfly net.

At Clago’s Troutdale in Agoura, such scenes are common. Clago’s consists of two large man-made ponds, fed by spring water and packed full of healthy rainbow trout. For a $2 entry fee, you can fish at Clago’s with no license and their equipment. But if you catch trout--and you will--you will pay for them. A cool $7.95 for a fish longer than 15 inches like Jason Vancamp’s. As little as 95 cents for trout under eight inches.

And, more important, owner Bruce Clago doesn’t much care how you catch the trout. Fishing rods and bait are suggested, and perhaps a two-stick charge of dynamite lowered into the water might bring a stern warning from Clago, but other than dynamite and poisons, the method seems to be pretty much up to the angler.

Which was very, very good news for the young Vancamp, who fished with kernels of corn on a hook for more than hour without ever catching a fish.

It was during these darkest of hours for the young angler that 10-year-old Shannon Motley, fishing nearby and also having poor luck, showed him the way. Watching dozens of sizable trout parade past her in a seemingly endless line for nearly 15 minutes had obviously been too much to endure for Shannon.

So she dropped the cane pole and picked up her butterfly net. And with a quick, jabbing motion, Shannon dragged in a 15-inch trout. Within five minutes, she and her 7-year-old brother, Chris, had dredged two more trout from the pond.

“It was pretty good fishing today,” Shannon said. “I’m glad we brought the net because they weren’t hungry at all.”

Vancamp had watched all of this, his mouth hanging open. He glanced quickly at his cane fishing pole and quickly determined that it was about as useless as Mr. T’s vocabulary.

“Can I borrow your net?” he asked.

A minute later, Jason had the two-pound trout lying at his feet.

Clago’s has been operating since 1971. It is nestled in a grove of trees off of Kanan Road, about nine miles from the Pacific Ocean. Cool breezes waft through almost continuously. It is a place to retreat to, a place to bring the kids and introduce them to fishing, a place where children can experience the joy of seeing big trout up close and get a hint of nature at the same time.

But others go to Clago’s, too.

“We get a lot of adults fishing,” Clago said. “I’ve had guys here catch 80, 90, 100 fish in one day. $500, $600 worth of trout. It seems a bit strange, but remember where we are, remember who’s just over the hill there.”

Just over the hill there is Malibu.

“People come in from down there, they don’t care about money. Some of these people drop a $1,000 bill on the ground, they wouldn’t bother to stoop and pick it up. Guy makes $4 million, $5 million a year, what’s he care about $500 worth of trout?”

Sure, $500 worth of trout. But that’s not counting the tartar sauce or lemon wedges. For those folks, Clago’s is nothing more than a weird fish market. They would get just as much of a thrill trolling through the frozen food aisle at Ralph’s. Maybe snag a box or two of Mrs. Paul’s fish sticks and have their picture taken with them.

The largest fish ever taken from Clago’s was a 32-inch giant hauled from Pond B in 1983. It was, as Clago recalls, caught by an adult. Fish nearly that big still swim in the 19-foot deep ponds, according to Clago.

Perhaps it’s time for the Vancamps to buy little Jason his own net.