Deep frustration with the big bite

After MAKING more than 100 casts without a strike, Eric Elshere takes a break. He sets his rod down, shakes life back into his right arm, sighs deeply and says, “This lake has really been humbling me lately.”

Ventura County’s Lake Casitas, one of the nation’s best trophy bass fisheries, has been doing that to a lot of anglers in recent weeks. This is the time when big fish typically start to move to shallow water to spawn, but so far this year they remain deep and sluggish. Unseasonably chilly weather is delaying the big bite -- one of the most anticipated events on the bass fishing calendar -- and more foul weather is in the forecast.

Elshere, 19, an amateur tournament angler from Ojai, has been fishing in 54-degree water and metering bass as deep as 90 feet. They won’t move shallow until water hits 60, biologists say.

That, of course, will trigger another type of migration. The lake will literally be buzzing with boats, and Elshere, who fishes at least twice a week, will finally have company. “This lake will be bumper to bumper with fishermen,” he predicts, launching his swimbait anew. “But that’s OK with me as long as I’m catching something. I haven’t caught a fish here in two months.”

Some refer to Casitas as “No-Fish Lake” because its fish seem warier than at other lakes. But serious fishermen keep coming back because many big fish inhabit the sprawling reservoir, which is surrounded by oak woodlands and grassy hills. Two of the most successful anglers at Casitas are Todd and Rod Thigpin, makers of the Stocker Trout swimbait, a rubber lure that resembles a hatchery-stocked rainbow trout, a hearty meal for big bass.

Fewer than 10 bass of 10 or more pounds were caught this year, and the Thigpins logged two of them in the last two weeks: a 14 1/2-pound fish and an 11-4. Both were released. The pair are secretive about where they fish. Todd Thigpin says their success comes mostly by casting away from shore, letting the lure sink and retrieving it over submerged points and structure.

“It is a tough lake and if you don’t know it very well it can be extremely tough,” Todd Thigpin said. “But if you know what you’re doing, you can catch fish. And if you do get a fish, chances are it’s going to be a good one.”

The lake record is a 21-3 bass caught in March 1980. It’s the fifth-largest official catch. The world record is a 22-4 largemouth caught in 1932 at Georgia’s Montgomery Lake.

State biologist Eloise Tavares offers no explanation for Casitas being more difficult to fish than other reservoirs and adds that the fish certainly aren’t lacking.

Past spawning seasons have been productive and a survey last fall turned up fish in several size classes, indicating a 2003 spawning season that lasted more than two months. “The spawning season can last until the water gets into the low 70s,” she says. “While it’s typically strongest in April or even in early May, it can last into late May or even June.”

Still, Elshere wants to know where all the fish have gone. He points to the low water level -- the lake is down 31 feet because of drought -- leaving prime habitat high and dry. Back at the bait-and-tackle shop, concession manager Randy King says that some of the most productive seasons have come during low-water years. The only fish boated on this day, however, are a carp and some trout.

A humbling experience indeed.

Casitas isn’t the only lake giving fishermen fits. The bass bite is tough at Castaic, Diamond Valley and Perris. Only a few San Diego-area lakes show signs that spawning is imminent.

Dixon Lake in Escondido isn’t one of them but it is being watched closely. Jed Dickerson of Carlsbad caught a 21-11 bass there last spring -- the fourth-heaviest official catch. It may be the same fish that was caught in April 2001 by Mike Long of Poway. If it’s caught again, some suggest it just might have enough bulk to supplant George Perry’s record largemouth caught in 1932.

Or not. Long claimed recently to have found and buried the fish after discovering it floating, dead. Few are convinced. “No staff member at the lake has seen the fish or been able to confirm his story,” operations manager Adam Stackhouse says. “Naturally, there are lots of doubters.”

To e-mail Pete Thomas or read his previous Fair Game columns, go to latimes.com/petethomas.