Flies for Barred Surfperch & California Surf Fishing

         Barred Surfperch ~ Corbina ~ Croaker ~ Striped Bass ~ Halibut ~ Shark

Rootbeer / Squirrel Krystal Shrimp ~ Barred Surfperch Fly tied by Steven Bird 

     Fly fishing the California surf for barred surfperch is a growing facet of our sport gaining deserved popularity. Though in recent years developing quickly, the sport is still relatively young and there is not yet the fully matured fly fishing tradition along with signature fly patterns that has grown around more established saltwater game like, say, bonefish or striped bass. However, the scene is changing fast as more designers discover the pleasures of fly fishing the California surf. Here is a brief listing of my own designs.  

                                                        

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The Krystal Shrimp Series

Built on the classic Crazy Charlie pattern (no material applied under the 'belly'), Krystal Shrimp were designed specifically for barred perch, though have also proven effective for corbina and all surf species, including halibut – they catch bay bass and California bonefish as well. Rockfish too. This pattern was featured in California Fly Fisher magazine. I fish these in sizes #2, #4 and #6, in the following colors:

Rootbeer / Squirrel

Red & Pink

Purple

Gray/Pink & Olive

Little Perch (stripers!)

Purple Haze Rootbeer

Pink

By-The-Wind Sailor

Designed to simulate by-the-wind sailor jellyfish, this color is a year-round starter, but particularly killing when wind sailors are washing up on the beach. If you see jellies in the drift line just above the wet sand, tie this one on. By-the-wind sailor 'hatches' generally take place through spring and into early summer. Sometimes, after a rough weather/sea period, the beach will be covered with these -- a happy circumstance for savvy surf anglers. And it's strange, in the biologist's papers these aren't listed on the surfperch menu, yet when they are present surfperch munch them like five-year-olds gobbling grape gummies -- even in less than ideal surf conditions. And you can expect by-the-wind sailor hatches to attract the big 'squaremouth' grade of perch to the beach.

By-The-Wind Sailor

 

Big Sur Shrimp

The Big Sur Shrimp is a retro nod to the California beach casting pioneers who did well on ‘Comet’ style patterns. And this style still deserves a place in the arsenal of canny surf casters. Some days, a Comet will outfish bonefish or Clouser style flies. When wet, it looks very similar to the popular motor oil grub (like a punk rock motor oil grub on acid), a good seaworm imitation. I like to fish this one as a trailer behind a Krystal Shrimp. 

Big Sur Shrimp

Greenie

Featured in California Fly Fisher magazine, the Greenie is a classic natural bucktail sardina. Anything that eats baitfish will eat the Greenie. My go-to surf striper fly. Also good offshore. (I caught a 35lb Chinook at Morro Bay on a Greenie.) Also good for calico bass, barracuda, bonito, white seabass, yellowtail and tuna. Kills in the Baja surf as well. I tie this one in #2 (about 4” long).        

Bucktail Greenie

The Big Sur Shrimp ~ A Fly for the California Surf

    All of the fly patterns I fish are baits. I tie flies out of necessity, because I need good baits. It is not the act of tying that I relish, rather, it is the trial and error creative process that evolves the idea for a new pattern to utilitarian realization. The fly proves out to be a reliable workhorse bait, my friends and I are consistently catching fish with it, I tie up a bunch, take them to the beach and wear them out.

I admit it, I’m a saltwater junkie. Wintering on the Central California coast where steelhead are ghosts, I spend most of my fishing time on the beaches casting for barred surfperch. This is a happy circumstance, as it contains all of the elements that stack up to world class fishing (by my own standards): Bold, inspiring scenery; relative solitude; moving water that requires reading; a reliable quantity of sporty barred perch willing to eat a fly. As a fighter, pound for pound, Cali barred surfperch will go head to head with anything. The world record, at close to 5 pounds, came from the area I fish. 

Though the primary menu item on the beach is mole crab, the teardrop shaped sand crabs are difficult to imitate, and I’ve yet to try a crab pattern that works to my complete satisfaction. Surfperch see a lot of sand crabs, they are sand crab experts, and can be very selective on them, and usually won’t eat one that does not look and act exactly right. Fortunately, barred perch are also fond of shrimp, sea worms and small baitfish, and aren't as picky about the imitations of these. 

Barred surfperch will also hit trigger flies, 'lures' bearing little resemblance to anything in nature, yet composed of colors perch can't resist putting their lips on. There is a preference for red, pink, orange, purple, rootbeer, and also color combinations of olive & vermillion, common to many sea critters, notably seaworms and shrimp.

Nowadays, bonefish and Clouser type flies rule the surf. But it serves us well to remember, back in the day, pioneer California surf fly fishers did well on 'Comet' style patterns, and this type still has a place in the arsenal of canny beach casters. Of course, the Big Sur Shrimp can be tied with a barbell, beadchain, bead or cone head, though I prefer to tie this one with a bit of lead wound under the body. Most often, I fish it as a trailer behind a Krystal Shrimp, though, fished alone, the section of T-14 attached to the tip of my shooting head takes it right down to hunt and tickle the bottom. I suspect this presentation drifts and scoots the fly in the surf, like a worm or swimming shrimp.       

Big Sur Shrimp

Hook: #2 Dai-Riki 930 or choice

Thread: Red or orange

Tailing: In order: pinch of pearl olive flash; olive marabou; red-dyed barred mallard flank feather wound forward, then tied back & down; olive-dyed mallard flank feather tied back & down; top with a couple strands of pearl olive flash (I start building the tail at about even with the hook point.)

Body: ‘Peacock’ Estaz

Hackle: Red-dyed & olive-dyed mallard flank feathers wound as a collar - & finish.

                 

North Of The Point, South Of Big Sur

           Early morning, the coast road is salted and barren north of Cambria, the peaks of the Santa Lucia just receiving the rouge of first sun. Nobody else parked on the gravel shoulder. Coffee down to dregs, I unload my pack and rod, pull on my waders, and squeeze through the access turnstile allowing passage through the barbed wire fence. I pass swiftly down through the Hearst bull pasture to the bluff.

The crest of the bluff overlooks the beach, the tao world unfolding in frames to create the whole.

                                                          Sea

                                                 Long, long sky

A seal rolls out beyond the breakers sending up a white confetti burst of gulls.

Up from the beach the breeze smells of kelp-iodine and fish.

The brown rug of California crumbles at the edge.

It’s a small crescent of a beach. No more than half a mile long. On the north end, a tilted headland projects to block the prevailing northwesterly. To the south, long ago, beyond memory, an earthquake brought down a portion of cliff to create a barrier point of jumbled boulders. Sheltered from the wind it is a good casting beach. A secret beach. I have it to myself.

I look for structure. Gravel spots. Humps. Current rips moving straight out from the beach indicating deeper water. Convergences where intersecting waves indicate a trough. Patches of nervous water. I watch the waves rise, claw up the beach, recede.

The beach currents converge to a strong rip flowing out from the center of the crescent. Most outstanding structure of the beach. That’s the bucket. Fish’ll gather there on the tide. If there are any. Plenty of time, the tide peaking in two and a half hours, at 10:30 AM. Morning tides are best. Today is a 5.2 high tide, a moderate swell at a fair interval. I watch the rows of swells line up and come in. Good. Not too energetic. The sea beyond the swells spreads out like milk to the horizon. Hint of an offshore breeze. Nearly perfect conditions today. That’s rare. This is a windy coast. Why I like the big rod here. One reason.

I’m out for barred surfperch – on this same beach I’ve caught starry flounder, lemon sole, halibut, steelhead, striped bass, leopard sharks and guitarfish – but perch are the most common game. Good fly-eaters and good brawlers. Poor man’s trevally. The world record at close to five pounds came from around here, though most are one and a half to two and a half pound models. Some bigger fish in the mix. A three pound barred perch will convert you. They’re good eating and I’m after a few for the table.

The rip is out in front of a gravel hump. I start there, dumping line for a long cast. The two-hander is a cannon in the surf. A two-handed overhead cast launches the whole line and sink tip.

Not long into it comes a tapping grab, and the first fish succumbs quick. A shiner perch, about the size of my hand, round and hubcap-bright. Good

sign.

There’s life.

A set comes in, the water on the inside rises and holds, pregnant, I am there stripping, and something that is definitely not a perch assaults the Crazy Charlie. This one has weight. I check its run and the rod strains into the butt. Can’t stop it yet. Think it’s a leopard shark. Halfway into the backing the spool slows, I check the fish again and it arcs from the surf and shows itself to be a steelhead. A nice one, about eight pounds I figure. It goes bananas ripping off some more line then jumps again out in heavy surf and throws the hook.

Shaken, I moonwalk back through the skim and up the wet sand.

A triad of vultures ride a thermal above the tortured cypress lining the top of the bluff. There will probably be wind, arriving with the tide.  

Possibly, the little trace from the hills emptying to the cove, now a streak of dry gravel, was the natal stream of the long distance released steelhead. I wonder if the rains will come. I’m secretly glad the steelhead got away without me stressing it further. Steelhead, here, are mainly ghosts.   

Another half dozen casts to the shoulder of the rip and another fish grabs –  feels like a good one – but the fish doesn’t run or jump, it bulldogs with determination, briefly, then succumbs . I work it up into the skim. A striped bass – about a three pounder. I admire it for a moment and slip the hook. Hope there’s more. I fish fast, expectant, yet a dozen casts both sides of the rip, and nothing.

Shoulder’s starting to bug. I wind in, retreat to a driftwood log up against the bluff and eat an apple.

The Big Sur highlands rise abrupt and desolate from the brightening sea, close, to the north. It is as wild and lonesome as any place I’ve fished.     

Almost peak high tide. Time to get back to it.

Things look right. I let a cast go and by the time I’ve gathered the slack the fly has reached bottom and the first barred perch of the day finds it. Then the perch are there, and fairly steady, a good grade, high shouldered, bronzed, mature fish. They blitz my fly nearly every cast and for an hour we raise a ruckus down the skim line, me and the perch. And then they are gone. All but the three nice ones in my pack.

The wind comes in with the tide. It’s already white-capping on the outside.

Climbing the bluff toward the coast road, a young woman on her way down to the beach greets me on the trail. She is lovely, feral, sun streaked and browned, accompanied by a friendly Lab. She smiles, stops, looks out to the sea, rises onto her tiptoes, says, “Isn’t it the best day ever!”   

She seems confidant in that. Without reservation. Her words a statement not a question. And though, I guess, in some circumstances her greeting might be considered odd, in the moment it makes perfect sense. We are in accord.

“Yes,” I say, “I’d consider this one of the best.” ~