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BASS LAKE -- Cool mountain air, signaling the first hint of autumn, greets fishing guide Todd Wittwer on a recent weekday morning as he steers his 22-foot barge away from the dock and into glassy waters.

Gray skies threaten, but Witt- wer isn't paying attention. He's too busy monitoring his electronic fish finder for schools of kokanee that he knows are out here.

At first, the screen shows an occasional yellow blip, each signaling a fish. But as the barge approaches the dam on the lake's south end, those yellow blips become a giant blob.

"There they are," Wittwer says.

Kokanee are an idiosyncratic fish. Every instinct in these landlocked sockeye salmon tells them that September is time to start spawning. The 3-year-olds huddle together, become even more territorial than usual and look for a creek to run upstream and lay their eggs.

Of course, there are no creeks to run at this lower-elevation Sierra reservoir. So the best the kokanee can do are cluster near the dam, where the water is deep and cool and outflows provide a hint of current.

Wittwer parks his boat above the school and shuts off the main engine. It's fishing time.

While most anglers troll for kokanee, puttering around at slow speeds with downriggers in the water, Wittwer favors a different technique this time of year: He jigs for them.

Jigging for kokanee isn't unheard of, but it is unusual.

"I almost feel like I invented it, but all I really did was refine it for this lake," Wittwer says. "The way I see it, there's no point in jigging unless you're parked above a school."

Wittwer uses light-action rods and baitcasting reels with built-in depth counters. He favors 25-pound braided line that doesn't stretch, allowing the angler to feel every tug.

For bait, Wittwer uses his own handmade lures or Radical Glow Tubes. Bright colors are a must. Because kokanee don't feed once they start spawning, they typically won't strike a lure unless agitated.

As extra incentive, each treble hook is tipped with kernels of white shoepeg corn that have been soaked in scent.

With the blob of kokanee some 55 feet below the boat, Wittwer instructs everyone to lower their lures until they sit just above the school. We're told to raise and lower our rods about a foot with a slight pause in between, making sure to keep the line taut and not to raise the tip above parallel to the water.

"The strike is going to be real sudden," Wittwer says. "One quick snap, and that's it."

It doesn't take long before Henry Alvarez of Clovis hooks the day's first fish. But before he can get it to the surface, the fish shakes its head and squirms off.

"Oh my God, that was quick," says Alvarez, shaking his head. "My reflexes aren't as fast as they used to be."

Wittwer tells Alvarez not to worry, that no one ever hooks up the first strike.

"Reel in as fast as you can," he advises. "Act like a sea lion is going to get it."

The action is fast and furious, pausing only when the boat drifts off the school. Wittwer uses the remote control on his trolling motor to get it back in position.

After 20 minutes of fishing, five kokanee are already on ice. Several others are caught and released because their flanks have started to turn red, an obvious sign of spawning.

Kokanee are prized by anglers primarily because of their delectable taste. But once the fish start to spawn, their eating quality rapidly declines. Meat that was once pink and flaky becomes white and mushy.

"This is real fun fishing," Alvarez says after he's landed several nice-sized kokanee. "I have to say this is better than trolling -- and I like trolling."

Minutes turn into hours and soon enough Wittwer's cooler is packed with fish. Each of us have caught our limits of five fish, the largest measuring 161/2 inches. Time to go home and fire up the barbecue.

Wittwer's techniques, which he willingly shares thanks to the influence of the late Phil Johnson, who helped found Kokanee Power, have resulted in the lake record of 211/8 inches. This year's fish are a little smaller than normal -- probably because of the lack of rainfall -- and average about 15 inches.

"The thing I like about jigging is you can be selective," says Wittwer, a fully licensed and bonded guide. "Keep the ones you want, throw back the ones you don't."

Wittwer plans to continue offering kokanee trips through the first weekend of October, which is a little later than most years. After that, most of the fish are too far along in the spawning stage.