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Sunday June 14, 2026.   Only three days ago I discovered something I hadn’t experienced in what feels like forever: the new mussel regulations finally allowed me to fish both San Luis Reservoir and O’Neill Forebay without serving the mandatory eight-day sentence in quarantine. I think it’s been close to three years since I’ve had that kind of freedom.

The main lake had fished incredibly well three days earlier—probably the best day I’ve had all year. Then I got a call from my good friend Frank, who many of you may remember from our Tarpon fishing adventures in Mexico last year. Frank said he wanted to fish the Forebay with Steve Santucci on Monday.  Unfortunately, I had this annoying thing called work scheduled for Monday, so I told him I’d go out Sunday and scout the Forebay. My plan was simple: find the fish, gather intelligence, and provide Steve and Frank with a detailed reconnaissance report worthy of a military operation.

Then Frank called back.  “How about Sunday? If I’m feeling healthy enough, I’ll meet you out there.”  Fast forward to this morning. I’m driving to the Forebay when my phone rings.  It’s Frank. He’s already there.  And he’s already catching fish.  Lots of fish.  At that point, my carefully planned scouting mission immediately turned into a reunion tour.  I launched the boat—without an inspection, which still feels slightly illegal after the last few years—double-checked that the drain plug was actually in the boat this time, and blasted over to the powerhouse. Frank and I spent the first hour talking, catching a few fish, and solving all the world’s problems. Eventually we decided to split up and search for bigger fish. I headed toward the inlet and worked the tire pile. Frank went toward the islands.  About an hour later my phone rang. “Get over here. There’s a ton of fish around the islands.”  He wasn’t exaggerating.   There was only one small problem.   The islands were apparently hosting a striper kindergarten.   Most of the fish were between 12 and 17 inches, with maybe two reaching the lofty height of 18 inches. The catching was nonstop, but if the fish had been any smaller we’d have needed parental permission before releasing them.

I was fishing my 7-weight Bad Ass Glass rod with a 350-grain shooting head and braided mono running line. Frank was throwing his famous Fuzzy Ice fly while I started with a small yellow clouser.  Eventually I switched to Frank’s fly.   Honestly, I don’t think the fish cared what we threw. They were apparently operating under a strict “if it moves, eat it” policy. The only preference seemed to be smaller flies. Frank’s Fuzzy Ice held up better under the dink assault and hooked more of the smaller fish.

This was the kind of day you’d pray for if you were teaching someone how to fly fish for stripers. Constant action. Lots of grabs. No long dry spells. The perfect classroom.  Tomorrow Frank and Steve Santucci will return to the Forebay and undoubtedly continue the dink massacre.  As for me, I’ll probably head back to the main lake after I get done with trout fishing again over father’s day weekend.   Funny how a dink in the forebay could probably drown a 12 inch trout, and Im apathetic.    I’ve had my fill of dinks though I feel the need,  the need for dry fly trout fishing.

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