This past weekend, I linked up with Phantom and El Japo for a kamikaze trip up to Lake Nacimiento — and as usual, what a trip it turned out to be.
We hit the road from Los Angeles at 10 PM, which already felt like a throwback to those reckless road missions we used to pull back in the day. The three of us packed light, brought just enough snacks to survive the night drive, and had the rods rigged and ready in the back. There’s something about late-night drives with good company and a goal in mind that just sets the tone — windows cracked, tunes rolling, and the road stretching endlessly northbound on the 5.
We pulled to the entrance to the lake around 3 am, and by 6:30, that first morning light hitting the glassy surface of Nacimiento is something else. The lake was quiet, the hills still holding onto the last of the night’s chill with an ephemeral fog. We know the lake like the back of our hand, and we made a run to an area that always produces.
It didn’t take long before I hooked up on my second cast — a solid spotted bass that nearly ripped the rod from my hands. After that, it was non-stop action for the next couple hours. We threw the tackle box at 'em, when the sun started creeping higher. Phantom was dialed in on a free rig, and I stayed stubborn with a 1/4 ounce tungsten jighead with a Yamamoto hula grub.
We didn’t catch any monsters as spotted bass don't reach the gargantuan weights that their Florida strain largies do, but it was one of those sessions where the size didn’t matter — it was just fish after fish, laughter echoing off the hills, and that unbeatable rhythm of cast, drag, set hook and boom.
The bite slowed down simply because we were curious about different areas of the lake and while the bite slowed down in those spots, we kicked back, soaked in the view, and traded old stories from our earlier fishing days. There’s a unique kind of peace out there at Naci — the mix of remote beauty, clear water, and active fish makes it feel like you’ve stumbled onto a hidden gem every time you go.
By the time we packed it up and started the drive back, we were running on fumes, but none of us could stop grinning. Trips like these remind me why we fish in the first place — not just for the tug at the end of the line, but for the memories, the laughs, and the escape from the grind.
Can’t wait to run it back. Top 5 went about 14 pounds, with a pair of 3 pounders holding it down.
