The Dogtown Dispatch: Issue #03

THE SETUP FELT RIGHT. THE FISH HAD OTHER PLANS.

This week gave us everything: thick refusals, a day of glory, and enough whiplash to keep even the saltiest angler guessing.

We had numbers early — fish showing up in all the right places — but with their mouths zipped shut. Then a tsunami warning from halfway across the world stirred up the water and reset the mood. Thursday delivered the kind of heat that keeps people crawling beaches for seasons. Fish were lit. Flies got crushed. For 24 hours, the coast gave us a gift.

But just as fast as it came, it vanished. Winds picked up, tides got wonky, and the weekend turned into a game of chess with ghosts. Vicinity casting took the lead. Trusting instincts over eyesight became the move.

Both LA and Ventura saw windows open and slam shut. Those who kept walking, kept watching, and stayed loose had the best shot.

Because out here, nothing is given. You earn every take.

Let’s get into it.

Postcards from the Sand

Los Angeles: July 28- August 03, 2025

I was on the sand early and often — sun not even up, rod in hand, back again by dusk. Monday and Tuesday had all the signs: tides were right, water was moving, and beans were showing. Fish were stacked in troughs, staging on crab beds, cruising tight to the edge. But the bite? Ice cold. Casts got tracked, studied, and flat-out ignored. It was all refusal. That soul-punch kind — where you’re in the right place, throwing the right fly, and they just won’t eat.

Then Wednesday got strange. Alerts started buzzing — a massive earthquake off the coast of Russia triggered tsunami warnings all across the Pacific. No wave ever showed, but the water felt... off. There was an energy under it. Slight surge, awkward rhythm. Fish were still present, but sketchy. Like they sensed something we couldn’t. The whole beach felt like it was holding its breath.

And then Thursday broke loose.

Clean water. Clean light. Perfect push. And fish that finally showed up ready to crush. You didn’t need a flawless cast — just the right one. Pink and natural Surf’n Merkins were getting annihilated. Fish were charging flies with violence, some chasing all the way into dry sand. The beach was electric. If you were out, you felt it. If you weren’t, you missed the best day of the season so far. No debates.

Friday? Different story. Same fish, new attitude. Back to refusals. Clean presentations just got blank stares. You could almost hear them laughing at you.

The weekend brought funky pushes and questionable structure. Nothing lined up quite right, but there were still moments. You had to play the long game — track water texture, read fish movement, and cast based on instinct, not sight. Vicinity casting was the name of the game. Drop it in the lane and hope the math works.

Natural Surf’n Merkins stayed consistent all week, but subtle attractors earned their spot over the weekend. Didn’t matter what you threw if your angle and pace weren’t dead on.

This week gave us everything — heartbreak, weird energy, and one blisteringly good day that’ll stick in your head for months. That’s the rhythm of the surf. That’s the corbina curse. And that’s

why we keep coming back.

Someone say DOGtown? Shop Member Jason M. with a good early morning Bean.

Key Takeaways – Los Angeles Beaches

Corbina don’t owe you anything.

• Early week = high numbers, zero eats. Refusals were the name of the game. Fish were there. They just weren’t buying.

• Wednesday got weird. Tsunami warnings from a Russian quake put a strange energy in the water. Fish were spooky. The beach was quiet.

• Thursday delivered. Best day of the season so far. Fish were hot. Flies got smoked. Pink and natural Surf’n Merkins lit it up.

• Friday killed the vibe. Same water. Same casts. All denial. Classic corbina behavior.

• Weekend windows were tight. Tides were messy, but fish were still around. Vicinity casting made the difference — not what you saw, but what you felt.

• Fly patterns: Merkins held strong. Attractors got love too — but only when placement was perfect.

• The takeaway? This game is built on heartbreak and hope. One good day feeds the fire for weeks.

Bottom Line 

You don’t chase corbina for consistency. You chase them because every once in a while, everything lines up — tide, light, cast, intent — and a fish eats like it’s the only thing that matters.

This week gave us that moment. Once.

The rest was refusals, weird water, and tight windows. But that’s the pull. That’s why we crawl beaches at dawn, strip flies until our shoulders burn, and walk off skunked with a smile.

Ventura County: July 28- August 03, 2025

Ventura stayed true to form this week — unpredictable and earned.

Early in the week, the flat AM tide gave just enough of a window to find fish cruising the edge. If you were posted early and knew what to look for, you might’ve found yourself with a shot or two. But as usual, it didn’t last. The marine layer was thick most mornings, killing visibility until early afternoon. Even then, you had to be locked in — looking for swirls, subtle lifts, or just the shift in energy that gives a fish away.

Midweek came the tsunami buzz. That Russian quake didn’t throw a wall of water, but it still changed things. Beaches that had held decent clarity suddenly picked up stain and scattered kelp balls. Some spots went completely offline. Others just got trickier — junky water, weird currents, nothing lining up clean.

Water temps hovered in the low to mid 60s, steady but not ideal. By evening, especially in central Ventura, the wind showed up hard — that kind of “Big W” that pushes sideways into your line and tests your patience. Northern beaches stayed a little calmer and quieter, especially in the evenings, which made the people hatch manageable if you were willing to drive.

This wasn’t a week for casual casts. The corbina weren’t lingering long on the inside edge — just passing through. If you spotted one, you had to act. Fast. You needed patience to wait for the right angle, persistence to cover enough beach to find signs of life, and sharp eyes to read anything that moved in the chop.

If you got one to eat this week, you earned it.

Key Takeaways – Ventura Beaches

• Flat morning tides gave early shots, but they didn’t last long.

• Tsunami energy brought stain and kelp, knocking clarity down midweek.

• Water stayed steady in the low to mid 60s, but the wind cranked hard in the evenings, especially in central VC.

• Northern beaches offered cleaner evenings and less foot traffic.

• Marine layer made mornings tough, but the burn-off opened short afternoon sight windows.

• Tail swirls, v-wakes, and shadows were the only clues you were going to get.

• Patience + Persistence = Opportunity.

Butterball of a Bean Caught by shop member Scott Y.

Bottom line:

Ventura’s not giving it up easy — but it’s still giving.

This week wasn’t about racking up eats. It was about small wins. One clean shot. One fish that turns. One fly that disappears in stained water and comes tight. That’s enough.

You had to walk for it. Watch for it. Wait for it.

But if you did all three — and held your cast until the moment felt right — you might’ve left the beach a little

Looking Ahead

Next week’s tide setup looks promising — early morning lows, clean mid-morning push. If you know how to read water, you know that combo can be deadly. But it won’t be about being first on the beach. It’ll be about being in the right place when it turns on — and knowing what to look for when it does.

Structure is shifting fast. Beaches that looked perfect two days ago might be blown out or filled in by the time you lace up. Don’t rely on yesterday’s intel. Walk it. Feel it. Trust your own read.

The marine layer isn’t going anywhere, and neither is the wind — but that’s part of the game. Sight windows are earned. Fish aren’t giving away their positions. This is where observation beats optimism.

Watch your angles. Let the water tell you where to post up. And when the window cracks open — be ready to send the cast that matters.

We won’t tell you where to go. That decision’s yours.

We’ll just say this: It’s out there.

— Dogtown Fly Co.