Irvine Lake on Anglers’ Map, but Don’t Use Thomas Guide

I got on the water at Irvine Lake last week just before the storm hit. The west shore was lined with fishermen, the air was full of birds. An osprey swooped down on the rippling surface and flew off into the gloomy sky clutching a silvery trout, with other ospreys in frenzied pursuit.

It was indeed prime time for a little fishing, for man and bird of prey, as activity within the waterways always seems to perk up in the hours leading to a storm.

And given the incredible number of trout in Irvine Lake,

putting a few rainbows on the stringer--or, in the ospreys’ case, in the gullet--seemed a mere formality.

But a strange thing happened as soon as I cast a glob of Power Bait into the reservoir. The fish stopped biting. It was as if someone had flipped a switch.

“I can’t understand it,” said Jim Niemiec, the former concession manager who knows the fishery better than anyone. “They were biting yesterday and the day before. I personally photographed a 14-pounder and a couple of 12s.”

I understood well enough, but didn’t say anything. While I’ve experienced several good bites over the years (I once caught and released 20 bass at this same lake while fishing with radio personality Ronnie Kovach), more often than not, when I show, the fish dive for cover.

Friends jokingly refer to me as the kiss of death. I once traveled to Costa Rica and the tarpon went into a funk for 10 days. I once considered a trip to Cabo San Lucas to do a story on a famous surf fisherman. The sparkling, blue water mysteriously turned murky and green, driving the fish out of the region for weeks.

This stuff is all purely coincidence, of course. But if for some reason it isn’t, Southland anglers owe me a debt of gratitude for spending so much time in the office this summer and fall, instead of out on the water during a phenomenal tuna season, for I would have given El Nino a run for the money.

On this brisk and breezy day at Irvine, one angler was immune to my presence. Matt Schiedow, casting mini-jigs from a turquoise float tube, seemed to hook up every five minutes. “I’ve got eight or nine so far,” the 25-year-old El Toro resident said, securing a two-pound rainbow to his stringer. “I caught a 23-pound limit last week.”

Schiedow knows how to fish.

As for the others, they must have wondered why the 50,000 rainbow trout--weighing to 18 pounds--that have been dumped into the reservoir since the season-opener early last month picked this day to fast rather than feast.

Not that it mattered all that much. The prevailing sentiment seemed to be that being here was better than being in the hectic world down the windy road.

Irvine Lake isn’t surrounded by towering pines or snow-capped peaks, but as an urban fishery, it does quite well in making the visitor feel far-removed from the city.

Irvine Lake is not in Irvine; it’s a sprawling reservoir--covering 725 surface acres when full--in the foothills above Orange near the small community of Silverado. And while it is freeway close--about six miles east of the Newport Freeway--it is surrounded almost entirely by wilderness.

“It’s one of the best-kept secrets around,” Niemiec said, switching from Power Bait to a mini-jig, to no avail. “The only reason it’s called Irvine is because James Irvine [of the Irvine family, among the early settlers in Orange County] is the one who decided this was going to be his lake.”

Construction on Irvine Lake began in 1928. With Santiago Creek as its source, in 1931 it began supplying water for irrigation, mostly for the Irvine Co. At the same time, it catered to fishermen as well as waterfowl hunters.

Today, Irvine Lake supplies drinking water to Villa Park and Orange as well as water for local agriculture. It attracts catfish fishermen in the summer and bass fishermen in the spring and fall. In late fall and winter, however, thanks to the stocking of about 5,000 pounds of trout per week, it becomes arguably the Southland’s preeminent trophy-trout fishery. (Because it is a private lake, no fishing license is required; admission is $12 for adults, $5 for children.)

“This is an actual lake,” Niemiec said, referring to the competition, nearby reservoirs that also boast exceptionally large trout, such as Santa Ana River Lakes, Corona Lake and Laguna Niguel Lake. None of these can match Irvine in terms of size or scenery, although an ongoing dredging project can take something away from the Irvine Lake experience.

On this day the dredging equipment was silent. Niemiec, with not a fish to his credit, had other business and caught a ride to the marina on a patrol boat. I said goodbye while reeling in a small rainbow--the only one of the day--thinking that perhaps Niemiec was the kiss of death and that the fishing would pick up with him out of the boat.

But his departure did nothing to change the mood of the trout.

My brother and I, having ditched Niemiec, tried everything from inflated night crawlers to salmon eggs to Power Bait in every color of the rainbow, including rainbow-colored Power Bait.

The south wind picked up to the point where the anchors were no longer holding. We decided to take refuge across the lake in Sierra Cove, a narrow finger of reservoir and another popular trout hangout.

Six other boats were anchored in the cove, their fishermen having long settled into a state of relaxation that only a lousy fishing trip can induce. They were half asleep, lying on their backs, their heads propped against their gunwales, their eyes fixed on the heavens, where all the action was taking place.

Charcoal-colored clouds were blowing swiftly across the sky. Large hawks were soaring busily overhead, one of them swooping down for a closer look at a plate of chicken sitting on the middle seat of our boat.

The thumping of an attack helicopter on maneuvers from the nearby El Toro military base could be heard above all the natural sounds, and the ominous sight of this weapon of war appearing over the greenish-brown hills conjured up images not normally associated with a fishing trip.

Taking this all in, using a life jacket for a pillow and in somewhat of a trance, I got a little curious and asked my brother if anyone around us was catching anything.

He pushed himself up with his hands, looked around the cove, then leaned back against the seat and said, “No, nobody’s catching anything. They’re just fishing.”

And for this they had the kiss of death to thank.

SHORT CASTS

* Where they’re biting: Cabo San Lucas’ marlin activity may not be what it should be, but dorado have moved into the region in force, giving fishermen something to pull on. Fish to 50 pounds have been showing at the scales daily. Still, all eyes are looking north as incredible numbers of striped marlin have gathered at Magdalena Bay. When this happens, it is usually only a matter of time before the scrappy billfish begin moving south to within range of the Cabo fleet.

Among highlights this past week, according to Tracy Ehrenberg of the Pisces Fleet, were two powerful fish that escaped, an estimated 1,000-pound black marlin that won its freedom not long after being hooked by an angler aboard the Checkmate, and a 400-pound blue marlin that stripped a spool of 80-pound test during a fight with an angler aboard the Tracy Ann.

* California’s black bear season has ended three weeks early for the second consecutive year as hunters already have reached the quota of 1,500 bears. “Tags that have yet to be received will put the harvest total slightly above 1,500,” the DFG said in a news release. “This will not have a negative impact on the state’s bear population, which is estimated at 17,000 to 23,000 animals.”

* According to recently released data from a study by Mexico’s fisheries department, seven of 10 billfish caught in the East Cape region of Baja in 1996 were released. Catch totals at the prolific East Cape last year, according to PESCA, are as follows: 4,688 striped marlin (3,286 released), 443 blue marlin (202 released), 658 sailfish (525 released).

Times have certainly changed. “Three decades ago it was strongly ingrained in the psyches of Mexican resort-fleet skippers that returning with a fish was much more machismo and prideful than returning with a [release] flag,” said Esaul Valdez, U.S. sales manager for the popular Hotel Buenavista Beach Resort.

* Volunteers are needed Dec. 20 at 8 a.m. to help count bald eagles at Silverwood Lake State Recreation Area. The majestic birds of prey migrate to the San Bernardino Mountains every winter from Canada. Details: (760) 389-2303.