Outdoor writing contest second place: Gone Fishin’
The pale light of a sunrise and the stillness of the early hours are experienced by few. Although to most, it is an obligation to work. For me, these acts of beauty are the events I experienced as I loaded up for my first chance at bass fishing. Most picture uneventful waiting with the majority leaving it up to chance that a fish will stumble upon their bait. Yet bass fishing has a whole different strategy as I would soon experience.
I had recently found myself couch bound after surgery. The unexpected nature of my confinement drove me to begin searching for ways to entertain myself. I found bass fishing on YouTube. I was introduced to a complex realm of strategy, knowledge, and a technique that is not appreciated by many. I was instantly hooked. In order to pass the time, I dove into the endless combinations and opinions on the topic of bass fishing. Due to my limited mobility I was forced to practice the art of casting with my new reel, the intimidating baitcaster, while balancing on my crutches. After many hours, hundreds of casts, and a few nasty backlashes, I had the technique down. I was ready for the “reel” experience.
Not so bright but early on a Saturday morning, I woke up ready to put my newfound skills to the test. For a teenage guy, five in the morning seems like a death sentence, much less an enjoyable way to start a Saturday. Nonetheless, it was the way I decided to spend one of my last carefree days since summer was winding down. Without a boat from which to fish, I was forced to get creative. My family’s recent purchase of a paddleboard proved to be a viable solution. In order to ensure I did not reinjure myself, my mum insisted that my dad come along to paddle. With our gear loaded up and the sun just barely peeking above the horizon, we left for the lake. For the security of my fishing spot, the lake will remain unnamed.
When we arrived, the water was like marble reflecting the early morning sun. The only disturbance was the wake of the paddleboard as we cut through the water. We both knew falling in was not an option without voicing the thought. As my dad and I found the most comfortable positions, we came precariously close to the water. In addition to not falling victim to the frigid water, I was also intending to catch a fish.
I started out using a frog lure but decided a buzzbait would be better fit for covering the open water. A buzzbait is a bass lure that is cast out and quickly reeled back. On top is a blade, often gold or silver, that spins creating a flash and the distinct buzz sound it is named after. As I continued this process of casting and receiving, I realized how peaceful it was becoming. My mind’s only occupation was deciding where to cast.
This time on the water provided a time to relax that my generation often overlooks. I could feel the stress melting from my body and relaxing its grip as if it never existed.
As I was in this meditative state, my dad commented, “Are you sure you aren’t going too fast? Doesn’t seem like a fish would chase …”
Suddenly, I saw my buzzbait get blown up from below the surface and pulled into the depths! Like second nature, I ripped the rod back to ensure a hookset. My dad was taken by surprise as I called out to ready the net. The weight on the line tugged on my heart. After maneuvering the fish to the side of the paddleboard, my dad scooped the fish up. The feeling of success lasted much longer than the bass in my hands. My time had not been wasted practicing. All of this action took place less than an hour after pushing off from the dock.
We continued to make our way up the lake thanks to my trolling motor of a father. The excitement from the first fish still lingered as the morning continued. But to me it felt as though time had stopped; floating on the water made everything slow down. After a few dozen more casts, another fish exploded out of the water.
“Fish on!” I cried while executing another hookset. “This one is a hog!” I exclaimed with more than a tinge of excitement.
Suddenly, my heart stopped. My line went slack. When the line is slack, it gives the fish a chance to spit the hook back out. Desperate not to lose the fish, I reeled with everything I had left. The gut wrenching feeling of losing a monster fish in addition to a spendy lure set in. I felt weight on the line, but to my dismay half of the lake’s weeds were tangled in my line. Yet as I pulled the vegetation up next to me, I noticed a large black eye staring back at me.
“She’s still on!” I howled as the monster bass dove back down into the forest of weeds pulling out drag as she went.
Acting quickly, I pulled the fish back up to where my dad netted it. Once the fish was secure, we let out cheers that could be heard across the lake. Shaking from excitement, I lifted up the fish. It was 18 inches from lip to tail and every bit of 4 pounds: a spectacular example of a largemouth bass. With the distinct fishy smell and a smile on my face, we called it a day.
This newfound hobby opens up opportunities to explore all the great fishing the Pacific Northwest has to offer. Fishing gives us a reason to explore, an escape from reality, and a sheltered place away from stress. Not everyone gets the opportunity to experience the peace and adrenaline fishing can bring. I am blessed to live in the Upper Left, USA.