Outdoors : Lucky Catch for Lucky Anglers : Fishing: San Dimas support group offers prizes at Puddingstone Reservoir, where the trout and bass are biting.

The excitement is building so high at Puddingstone Reservoir, the folks can hardly stand it.

Marlene Davis, the assistant superintendent for Frank G. Bonelli Regional Park in San Dimas where the little lake is located, said: “This one fella came up with a beautiful trout and says, ‘Hey, I caught this trout and it’s got a tag on it.’

“His jeans were all wet. I said, ‘What happened?’ He said, ‘That sucker was going to get away. I went right in the lake.’ ”

The tagged fish was worth $50, part of a program by the Bonelli Park Support Foundation to promote business and raise funds for improvements at the Los Angeles County Department of Parks and Recreation facility.

Another is the Big Fish Trout Derby on Feb. 17, from sunrise to 3 p.m. First prize is $400, second $300 and third $200.

Until then, said Ron Lindblom, the derby chairman, “All the excitement at this lake is the tagged fish.”

“Until the bass start bustin’ loose,” interjected Gary White, a finish carpenter who is project director for the BPSF. “I got a 10-pounder last week, and it’s winter. They’re just getting into spawning now. This is a heck of a bass lake. A lot of people don’t know that.”

But Puddingstone is no secret. Built as a flood-control reservoir in 1928, the park grew up around it. More than 4 million people went there during the park’s fiscal year of July 1988 through June ‘89, to fish, water ski, jet ski, sail, swim, golf, ride horses and mountain bikes, rope livestock, watch drag-boat races, picnic or just sit in hot tubs.

If that’s not enough, the Raging Waters fun park is next door, and snow-crested Mt. Baldy overlooks the lake from 30 minutes away. White recently drove up in his pickup and collected a load of snow so the kids could have a snowball fight at the park.

All of the activities seem compatible within a developed area of only 571 acres--less than a square mile--partly because the lifeguards enforce strict rights of way on the lake, which is only 250 acres and maybe a mile across at its widest part.

This pocket-size Shangri-La is only 30 miles from Los Angeles City Hall. Take the San Bernardino Freeway to the 210 to the Via Verde off-ramp, and leave stress behind. The fish are biting, a gentle breeze cools summer’s sun, the surrounding hills tame winter’s winds and, apparently by divine decree, even the notorious San Gabriel Valley smog disappears.

Or so they say. Lindblom swears it’s true. An ex-Marine and a retired TV serviceman with a respiratory problem, he and his wife sold their house in Whittier and moved into the private RV park on the east side of the lake a year ago.

“The smog stays above us,” Lindblom said. “I go into Glendora and I can’t breathe. It took me a year of coming up here to realize that. In the summer, we don’t even have to use the air-conditioner. The breeze just blows right through.”

And yet the wind seldom blows too hard to discourage fishing--just strong enough to waft the sailboats and sailboards around the lake.

This is the tranquil, uncrowded time of year at Puddingstone, at least until the trout derby. In late spring and summer, visitors are advised to arrive early to avoid being shut out.

Tom Brooks, the lake’s aquatics manager since 1972, said: “On weekends and holidays, we become a city of about 65,000 on a given day.”

White said: “If you can’t find something you like to do here, you’re a confirmed couch potato.”

A few well-to-do folks have also discovered Puddingstone. Several multi-story, million-dollar-and-up homes with towers and turrets and up to 7,000 square feet are sprouting from the steep slope on the north side, just outside the park grounds--proof that Puddingstone’s appeal is universal.

And what is the main appeal? It depends on whom you ask.

Lindblom likes the fishing. On a boat tour of the lake, cruising past the RV park, he said: “This is my area right here . . . lots of bluegill on that point . . . catfish by that tree. . . . This is where I hooked my 30-pound carp.”

The variety and quality of the fishing are remarkable for such a small lake. The trout and catfish have all been planted--8,000 and 6,000 pounds, respectively, at considerable expense to the Bonelli Park Support Foundation--because there are no feeder streams for spawning. The largemouth bass, bluegill, crappie and carp just showed up, and the foundation’s membership of about 45 volunteers has been working hard to make them all feel at home. The last two years, they’ve dropped 400 weighted Christmas trees into the coves for bass cover and have bought oversize trout from private hatcheries.

Brooks said: “They’re improving the fishing. The bass are natural here. Over the years, (the California Department of) Fish and Game stocked with what we call ‘take’ fish . . . three or four to the pound. They used to tell me that we got all of the amateur fishermen. They came out and fished for the trout, (not) for the bass. Most of the bass fishermen catch ‘em and turn ‘em loose.”

The foundation encourages that with money up front. White said he has offered anglers up to $20 from his own pocket to release nice bass back into the lake.

“It’s worth it to me to build up the fishing,” he said.

Even the carp, regarded as “trash” fish by some anglers, have their following at Puddingstone.

“A super lake for carp,” Lindblom said.

“I’d trade ‘em for a 12-pack,” White said.

Some run up to 40 pounds and provide some fun on heavy line.

“One year they had to buy water, and I think they got it from the Colorado River,” Brooks said. “When they got the water, the carp came with it.”

The fish benefit from ample forage.

“There are water weeds, and, since this is a flood-control basin, when it rains we get quite a bit of food that comes down those channels,” Brooks said. “It is a mud bottom, so there are crawfish and shad, and I’m sure they’re getting some worms, especially when the water goes up a little.”

The unofficial lake record for bass is 14 pounds 7 ounces, set just a couple of years ago--unofficial, because no careful records have been kept, and many anglers don’t bother to report trophy-size catches.

If Puddingstone hasn’t yet built a reputation as a premier bass fishery, it’s getting there.

“The bass fishermen like it because when some of the (larger) lakes like Casitas or Castaic are too windy, they can come here,” White said.

Brooks said: “I’ve seen a 13 1/2-pounder come out of here.”

Just this week, Kevin Crisp of Azusa, fishing for bass at the boat launch, caught a four-pound tagged trout worth $50. He didn’t throw it back.

In the fourth year of a statewide drought, the lake has not suffered much. Its water isn’t used as a public supply.

“If we get enough rain to bring the lake up three or four feet, that’ll get us through the year,” Brooks said. “And since the lake water isn’t used for any purpose other than our own irrigation, we don’t have a problem.”

Indirectly, however, Brooks suspects that the drought has had an impact by bringing thousands of fish-gorging cormorants.

“They can hurt our fish population very quickly,” Brooks said. “The last two years, we’ve had this problem. I surmise because we’re in the fourth year of drought conditions, their normal feeding areas may be drying up and they’re looking for new ones.”

White said: “They eat seven times their weight in one day.”

The lifeguards have tried assaulting the voracious birds with their patrol boats. Now they’re trying to scare them away with explosive charges fired from shotguns. The foundation is paying for the shells.

Lifeguard Jeff Jones cruised toward one of the creatures.

“See that long-necked bird?” he said. “That’s a cormorant. They’ll dive when we get closer. They’re conditioned to dive when they see the yellow boats.”

A moment later, the bird ducks its head and vanishes beneath the surface.

“They aren’t dumb,” Jones said. “We’ve seen half of them dive and herd the fish to shore for the other half.”

The cormorants prey mostly on the catfish, Jones said, “because they’re slower. But if the (birds) are driven hard enough, they will leave the lake.”

The foundation was organized in 1986 by devotees of the park who wanted certain improvements. The advantage of staging various fund-raising projects, rather than having the county do it, is that all the money raised goes right back into the park. If the county did it, profits would go into a general fund. Both sides like the arrangement.

“It leaves us options as to what we want to improve,” White said. “We work hand in hand with the county.”

Davis said: “We don’t have much staff here--two people in charge, 18 maintenance staff members--so we have to get a lot of assistance from additional people. Most of the parks have ‘em.

“If we can’t fund it through the county, we go to the support group. We have not been refused at all.”

White said: “(But) they’re not going to come to us with anything unreasonable.”

The park also attracts bird-watchers.

“One of them told me they’d just seen a tufted duck,” White said.

The excitement builds.