The Story Behind Two New Color Patterns; Real Sardine & Real Grunion, Battlestar 115 V2 Jerkbait
- Mar 19
- 8 min read
Updated: Mar 20
This blog post will be available in video form soon. Subscribe Youtube.com/@VINCEGOESFISHING I’m excited to announce the release of two new colors:
Real Sardine and Real Grunion — now shipping.
Built to match the hatch in clear water. Long casting. Strong wobble. Fast flash. Loud rattle. Deadly on pressured fish.
Built to match the hatch. Strong wobble. Fast flash. Loud rattle. Timed perfectly for those full and new moon grunion runs—when predators are keyed in and feeding hard.
Now… I want to tell you the story.
Because these aren’t just “new colors.”
These are real fish, real moments, and a process that took months of work to get right.
This is how it all came together.
It was quite a project.
I drove down to Ventura for the last fall full moon grunion run of 2025. Earlier that day, I had already caught a Halibut on a Battlestar 115 jerkbait—one of the things I love about this lure. It works.
Later that night, around 11pm, I geared up with a headlamp and a ziplock bag, then sat alone on a log on a remote beach. Total darkness. Couldn’t see much. Just listening to the waves roll in, feeling the cool breeze on my face, breathing in that salty air.
Sometimes… that’s all I need.
Then I saw it. A faint wriggle in the sand. The first grunion. I knew it was just a scout, so I kept my light off and waited. Patient. Still. Letting the beach come alive. More started to wash up. That was my moment.
I flipped on my high-powered TrustFire H6R headlamp full blast—and sprinted toward the nearest group. Pure instinct. Pure adrenaline. Ambushing my prey with both hands in the wet sand, alone, on an otherwise vacant beach in the dark, I played like a child, trying not to get splashed by the waves, to avoid getting water down inside my rubber boots.
Within 10 minutes, I had a dozen of them. Perfect, candy-bar sized fish. I backed up the beach and took it in for a second. I quickly shot video of the fish alive, under the light of my headlamp, to document what they look like completely fresh. This video would prove useful during the design stage.
Then, I spent a moment, just watching the rest of them move up and down the beach… slithering like snakes in the sand, riding the edge of the waves, sprawling the shoreline in this strange, beautiful rhythm. As they have done for millions of years, under full moon light, and in the cover darkness during new moons, seen or unseen, tonight I was the only one there to witness it.
Then I raced home!
1am. I was setting up my studio as fast as humanly possible—lights up, tripod locked in, backlight glowing, composition dialed. Everything moving fast… but focused. Then the moment came. I pressed the button.
Click.
And in that instant, it felt like time collapsed. Everything leading up to that moment—the idea, the drive, the night on the beach—all of it rushed forward. And everything ahead—the finished bait, the fish we’d catch, the photos, the memories, the high fives—all of it rushed back. Meeting right there. At that exact point.
I looked down at the screen… and there it was. The image. Soon to be lithographically printed onto the body of the new Battlestar 115 V2 jerkbait, making its way into tackle shops all across Southern California. But that was just the beginning.
It took months to bring that image to life. Sample after sample—half a dozen iterations—until we finally nailed it. The final touch: a “secret” UV stripe down the side. Invisible to us… but glowing to fish.
Once it was perfect, we pulled the trigger. Production started. Thousands made. And the day finally came—the first batch finished, boxed, and ready to ship out to you.
Now I’m just waiting to see what you catch on them.
Now, let me tell you the story of how I created this second color, Real Sardine.
I decided this time I would do it differently.
I wanted the sardine captured at its absolute peak—fresh, alive, glowing with that natural color, contrast, and luster you lose within minutes. So I built a mobile photography studio inside my car, complete with kshioe lighting kit, backlighting, magnetic phone holder, and all.
That decision alone turned into its own project.
To make it work, I needed real power. I ordered a Bluetti AC100 V2—strong enough to run my studio lights, but also versatile enough to power my Dometic electric cooler on future trips.
That was a game changer. No more melting ice. No more rushing home. I could keep my catch chilled—or even frozen solid—for days out on the road. But for this trip, I wouldn’t need my cooler.. just the photography lights. I intended to photo this sardine immediately after dispatching it, so it would be as fresh as possible.
I pulled the seats out of my car, built a flat utility deck, mounted the power station, and mocked up the entire studio inside—lights, glass, camera position—everything dialed. I ran a full test.
Check.
In that moment, it wasn’t just about catching a fish anymore. It was about capturing something perfect… right there, in the field, at the exact moment it mattered.
And yeah—thank you Dometic! Tell ’em VINCEGOESFISHING sent you.
I broke the studio back down and started planning the trip. I needed the right conditions—high tide, full moon—my best chance at intersecting a school of sardines off the pier.
The day came. I drove down to Santa Barbara.
Day one was all business. I started by tying on a Hayabusa Sabiki rig with 1.5oz Torpedo weight.
Then, prepared the bucket and rope to retrieve salt water, which I would use to keep the Sardine alive. I also used a Bubble Box to keep the water aerated. Not taking any chance of losing the full color and luster the bait fish had to offer.
It was time to fish! I fished and fished and fished. Tiny sabiki rig, dropping over and over—pulling up endless lizardfish, even a baby halibut… but no sardines.
Then it happened. An angler pointed out a dark shadow just beyond casting range on the north side of the pier. Sardines. For the next two hours, I pushed harder. Casting, watching, adjusting. Slowly, that shadow crept closer… and closer… until it wrapped around the west end of the pier and started sliding down the south side. Then it began to drift out again. And I still didn’t have one.
This was it. Last chance. I loaded up and fired the longest cast I had, trying to land just past the edge of that moving school.
Then—my rod started shaking.
Fast. Sharp. Aggressive headshakes—just like a Pacific Mackerel, but lighter.
I talked to my action cam and said, “It's fighting like a Sardine or a Mackerel, I’m really hoping it’s a Sardine…”
I brought it up.
Over the rail—
Bam!
"Oh nice! It is! It is a beautiful Sardine! Oh my gosh! This is what we need!"
Not just any sardine—the one. Thick, healthy, glowing. Deep black dots lined the sides, and for the first time, I noticed there are actually two sets of black dots down the side, small black dots down the back, and tiny speckling of UV blue along the back, — and this flash of electric blue, catching the light, glowing, on the belly.
I grabbed it firmly, popped the sabiki hook free, and dropped it straight into my 5-gallon bucket—saltwater, bubbler running—keeping it alive, keeping it vibrant.
I fished a little longer, thinking maybe I’d land an anchovy or a mackerel… but I knew this was the one. This sardine was perfect. It was time.
I carried the 5-gallon bucket down the pier, water sloshing, bubbler humming, straight back to my car.
Before the trip, I had already made the decision—I was going to give the fish a fast, humane death. No hesitation. I used a safety pin, straight to the brain. Instant. Limp. Peaceful.
It was time. I laid the sardine on the glass. Backlight glowing. Studio lights dialed. Camera mounted overhead on a magnetic arm—perfect composition. The kind of setup my high school photography teacher would’ve been proud of.
I took a breath.
Click.
And just like that—everything collapsed into that moment.
All the planning. The idea. The drive. The missed casts. The chase. And at the same time, everything ahead—the finished bait, the strikes, the fish, the memories, the photos, the high fives.
All of it met right there.
I looked at the image on the screen—and I knew.
That was it.
I immediately edited the images and sent the files off to the production team .
Over the following months, we refined it. Sample after sample. Dialing it in until it matched exactly what I saw that day on the pier.
That UV blue belly—subtle, but alive. Just like the real thing. And I already knew… when that bait is flashing and rattling through the water, that detail is going to trigger fish in a way most people will never even realize.
Then production began. Molds popping. Bodies forming. Printing. Coating. Polishing. Thousands of 2X strong Battlestar #4 trebles getting attached one by one. Each bait placed into its own poly box, black card folded clean behind it, stamped with its own SKU—like a serial number, a fingerprint. We made thousands. But to me, every single one is still personal. Because I know exactly where it all came from.
And when you’re out there—casting into the surf, launching over waves, putting that bait right into the path of striped bass, white seabass, halibut—all up and down the California coast, from Oregon to Baja… This thing is going to hunt. Absolute slayer.
So there it is. I worked hard on this. Really hard.
Not for hype. Not for shortcuts. Just for the simple satisfaction of doing something right… and being proud of it.
When I look back on every step—the planning, the driving, the waiting, the misses, the moments—it means something to me. And now I get to share that with you. That’s the best part. I’m fired up to see what you catch on these. Share your fish:
Post your reports in the California Surf Fishing (CSF) Facebook group.
And send your catch photos to @battlestartackle on Instagram or Facebook so we can save them, share them, and keep building these moments together. Because that’s what this is really about.
Fish safe, fish legal, fish hard, and chase your dreams!
Most sincerely, your brother in the California Surf, @VINCEGOESFISHING
