Battling bass on Japan's Lake Biwa - Ontario OUT of DOORS

The gust of cool morning breeze provides welcome relief from the humidity. The day is starting out like countless other summer outings, except that I am in Japan, admiring the awesome mountain peaks encasing the lower section of Lake Biwa. I’ve booked two days on the water with Jun Shoji, a well-known guide, lure and tackle designer, and tournament angler.

Big water, record bass
Biwa is the epicentre of bass fishing in Japan. Trends begin and end here. It’s Japan’s largest natural lake, covering 416 square miles, and it has a rich history. Lake Biwa gained world recognition in 2009, when angler Manabu Kurita tied the IGFA world largemouth record with a 22-pound 4-ounce bass.

The main body of Biwa is deep, up to 90 feet, and void of typical largemouth cover, so we focus our time on the southern portion, around the city of Otsu. Although my introduction to Biwa comes mid-summer, spring is the most popular time to target trophies, as giant Florida-strain bass migrate to the shallows to spawn. The probability of hooking into a personal-best fish is high. For Canadian anglers on an adventure, tangling with a bass over 15 pounds (and the possibility of one over 20) is well worth the long plane ride.

The start of the first day sees guide Shoji readying our gear at the marina. Shoji is sponsored by the industry’s best tackle companies, so his clients, including me, are treated to some of the most refined and expensive gear on the market. Our main technique will be slow trolling a swimming jig with a bit of cranking mixed in. He tells me that a custom designed 1⁄2-ounce football jig with a thick swimbait trailer has been his summer ace.

The hunt begins
Heading south, our first stop is only a few hundred yards from the hotel where we work weedlines. Within the first 20 minutes, my jig is crushed. Screeching for the surface, the fish back flips, revealing its decent size. Safely in the net, the solid five-pound largemouth is a welcome sight. Soon after, Shoji is into his own, which is closer to six pounds. He laughs when I tell him that the client always has to catch the bigger bass.

As the morning marches on, we check several areas, and Shoji finally lands two more while working a Beast Master crankbait, a plug he co-designed with IMA, a Japanese lure marker.

A break in the action
We break for lunch in the air-conditioned restaurant beside the marina that Shoji uses as his base camp. After a wonderful meal, and some chitchat with other guides, we just relax.

The afternoon doesn’t amount to much. We hit a flurry of fish on a swim jig in the late afternoon, but no big boys.

A rich network of guides exists on this lake, but Shoji is a favourite for his angling skills — and I appreciate his fluency in English. He has over 15 years experience on Biwa and strongly recommends April and May for a true monster. Shoji is known as Metan, which translates to sight fisherman. He says he finds it exhilarating catching enormous bass in shallow water, and every season manages to land numerous 10-poundplus specimens.

Heavy artillery
The next day, we prepare some heavy-punching tackle. Armed with flipping sticks, we pierce the tangled, shallow grass with substantial Texas-rigged baits. Mats of lush, vibrant mint-green grass mix with pads and globs of other weeds that grow in the shallows. We have only travelled about 75 yards when Shoji rockets the hook home on a bite. Seconds later, I have a fish of my own, but it is further back in the grass, making it extra challenging to yank free. “Ninja grass is tough,” explained Shoji.

As I unravel the mess, Shoji cautions me to avoid touching the black octahedron shaped pods. “This is the original Ninja star,” he says. “Ninjas would collect and dry these pronged pods. Once hard, they were used as weapons.”

We make a wide circle around the floating weed mat without another bite, then decide that cranking might be the ticket. After I catch the only fish, we break for lunch.

A glimpse at greatness
That afternoon, our first pass along a weed flat with a swim jig pays off with two quick fish. The next pass accounts for another.

As we lengthen our course, Shoji feels a bite, but misses it. A few casts later, my jig becomes electrified. Smashing the hook home, I know it’s big. “Watch out. Big bass always try to jump,” coached Shoji. As the bass surfaces, he scoops. We measure it, a common Japanese practice; it’s just over 21 inches, and a little north of six pounds.

After a few photos, we’re back casting. On one long cast, I lose contact with my bait, so I set the hook. The rod bows and I lean into it, trying to gain control. It’s no use. The bass bounds for the surface, shaking until the jig flies out. Like all lost fish, it was truly huge — potentially my biggest bass to date. We fish another hour, but I am heartbroken.

During our final ride back to the marina, I’m as awestruck by the mountain peaks framing Biwa as I was on arrival, and vow that this Lake Biwa bass-fishing experience won’t be my last.