Holy Ground—Clear Lake.

Driving from Sacramento, I finally arrived at Clear Lake before evening.
After dropping my bag at the lodge, I quickly prepared my gear. I only had two days to fish here. I checked the boat ramps on the map and loaded the SUP I had brought all the way from Japan into the car.

My first time in California. The wide sky, the wind brushing across the lake. I wanted to cast at least a few times in the fading light. Excitement pushed me forward as I paddled out onto the water. But the wind was far stronger than I had expected, and my SUP kept drifting away. Fishing was impossible. Frustrated, I decided to visit the shop I had always dreamed of seeing—Clear Lake Outdoors.

The moment I stepped inside, it felt like a dream. Gear I had never seen in Japan, local brand lures lined up on the walls, each one full of character. I couldn’t stop staring.

Talking with Nino, we shared stories about the differences and similarities between American and Japanese bass fishing, and of course, our passion for swimbaits. The respect for each other’s culture was clear, and it became one of the most memorable conversations of my trip.

The next morning, I woke up before sunrise. Following Nino’s advice, I drove to a nearby boat ramp. In the silent parking lot, I inflated my SUP. The sound of air filling the board echoed like a ritual. My heart was already on the lake.

When I finally paddled out, the words escaped my mouth:
“Beautiful…”
The water was glassy, mirroring the sky. The forecast said the wind would pick up in the afternoon, so I knew the morning would be my best shot. I tied on my own creation—the MBD EDEN8, in a trout color. This was the moment I had come here for: challenging Clear Lake with my handmade bait.

Cast after cast, I searched the water. At first, I worked the lure with a fast, steady rhythm, hoping to trigger an active fish. But nothing came. As the sun rose higher and light spread across the surface, I changed tactics. I slowed down, mixing chops with pauses—more deliberate, more patient.

And then it happened.
Out of nowhere, something crushed the EDEN8. Instinct took over. I set the hook hard, and my rod bent deep. Balancing on the SUP, I fought carefully, pulling the fish closer. When I finally saw its flash beneath the surface, the words just burst out:
“Yes!”

My first Clear Lake bass. And it had eaten EDEN8. A dream turned real in that single strike.

After releasing the fish, the wind started to rise. I moved to a wind-sheltered area, hoping for another chance, but time ran out. My session at Clear Lake was over.

I left with a touch of loneliness, but even stronger was the feeling: I will come back.
More than the fish itself, just standing on this legendary lake meant something to me.

And next, I was headed to another holy ground—Castaic Lake.
The birthplace of swimbait fishing, where a new story was waiting to begin.