I grew up in SoCal and miss the deep sea fishing. The fishies around here are pretty small:
From Collateral Crimes:
She leaned back against the granite wall and said, “Let’s have fish again tomorrow.”
“Absolutely. I hadn’t eaten fresh trout since …”
“You’ve had it before?”
“Yeah. I used to go fishing with my dad.”
Jesse smiled. “Tell me about your dad.”
“Is that the journalist asking?”
“No. No. Well, yes. But I really am interested. He used to take you fishing?”
“Yeah.”
“Where?”
“All over. The first time I remember was at a place called Laguna Lake in Fullerton. I caught a blue gill about this big.” He held out his hand with his thumb and forefinger stretched apart. “When I got older we used to go to Huntington Beach. Sometimes we’d go surf fishing, but most of the time we’d fish off the pier.”
“Did you ever catch anything?” “Oh, yeah. Mostly sand dabs at the beach. My friend, Michael, caught this huge halibut off the pier. We had to use a gaff on the end of a rope to land it.”
“Did you ever fish anywhere else?”
“We went deep sea fishing a few times. I got seasick but we caught some bonita and barracuda.”
“How about river fishing? Is that where you caught the trout?”
Jonathan fell silent.
Jesse said, “What’s the matter?”
“I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
“River fishing.”
“Which river?”
“The Kern.”
“Did you catch a lot of fish there?”
“A few.”
“Is that where you lost your father?”
Jonathan’s eyes welled up. He said, “Yes.”
