First 2007 Tournament

Flint River Bass Club Tournament - January 7, 2007 - Jackson Lake

First tournament of the year. It was raining when I hooked my boat up
at 6:00 AM,
raining when I launched at 7:00, raining when I caught my first fish at
9:00, pouring
rain at noon when I completed my limit. It finally stopped at about
1:00 PM. At
least it was warm, in the upper 50s early rising to the upper 60s by
noon.

My partner was a new club member and this was the first time I had
fished with
him. He fished as a guest in our last tournament in December and the
member he
fished with said he missed a big bass with the net. That was on my mind
while
fishing.

At blast off I ran to my favorite cold water spot - a small creek with
several rocky
secondary points and boat docks with brush piles. I started throwing a
Bandit
chartreuse crankbait on a rocky point where I have caught many good
fish in the
past. On about my second cast I felt a tap and tried to set the hook
but came up
empty. There was a big swirl in the water where I missed the fish - bad
start, hoped
it did not set the pattern.

It was light enough to see the water was pretty stained - the plug
disappeared down
a few inches. Temp was 54, good for January on that lake. I hate it
when the temps
drop below 50. Seems I can't catch a fish.

We fished around that point to the next one where I got a 5.5 in
January two years
ago. No bites. My partner was throwing a variety of crankbaits and jig
and pig and
I stuck with the Bandit. We jumped across to a rocky bank with docks
and brush,
trying jig and pig, Carolina rigged Baby Brush Hog, several crankbaits
and a
Chatterbait. Nothing.

By now we were getting pretty far back into the creek and I started to
leave but it
started raining harder so I kept going. Got to a secondary point with
a boat ramp on
it and cast across it with a bait Yozuri had sent me to try. Started
cranking it in and
had a hit - good fish fought hard and my partner did a good job with
the net. I
landed a 2 pound plus largemouth - one in the livewell at 9:00 AM.

That fish and the baitfish I saw on my depthfinder made me keep fishing
the creek.
We worked several secondary points and good looking banks with a
variety of baits
without a bite. At about 9:30 I looked down and saw I had used seven
different
rods and baits. Variety was not helping.

We fished out almost to the mouth of the small creek and started down a
rocky
bank. As I reeled the Yozuri bait to the boat and started lifting it
out of the water my
partner and I both saw a big mouth come up and grab the bait. We both
had
different comments, neither of which I can print here, and I started
yelling for the
net.

When I fish a crankbait I keep my rod tip near the surface of the
water. When the
fish hit I had about a foot of line out. Usually I have my drag cranked
down pretty
tight but this reel had ten pound Suffix line on it and the drag
slipped a little. I was
about to have a heart attack with a five pound plus bass churning the
water by the
boat on a short line. My partner moved fast and netted it. The plug
was all the way
down its throat.

I was shaking so hard I could hardly get my crankbait out of the fish
and put it in the
livewell. Figured I had almost eight pounds with two fish at 10:00 -
not too bad.

On down that bank I caught an 11 inch spot and then another one in the
pocket at
the end of it. Turned and went back up that bank and got another 11
inch spot -
three short fish quick.

Worked back to the point where we started and this time I hooked the
fish that hit -
a 13 inch spot. Three keepers in the livewell but the little spot did
not help much.

We decided to run up the river to a rockpile where I caught two decent
fish in
December. As we approached there was a boat near it so I peeled off to
the next
rocky point. After a few minutes on that point a good fish grabbed the
Yozuri and
my partner netted a two pound spot. Put it in the livewell and on the
next cast
caught a 1.5 pound spot. Had my limit at 11:00.

It is amazing how many times that has happened to me in the last couple
of years. I
will be headed to a spot I want to fish and there will be a boat on it,
so I got to the
next place and catch fish. Almost to the point I hope a boat will be
fishing where I
plan to go. Shows how good my decision making is!

By now my partner was digging for a similar bait to the one I was using
and I
offered him anything I had except the one bait - I wanted to cull the
little spot and I
had a lot of confidence in that bait by now. We fished around to the
rockpile but
nothing hit. I kept the trolling motor in the water and hit every
rockpile and point
we came to. I caught one more 11 inch spot but that was it. During this
time it
poured rain for about 30 minutes, soaking through my shoes. My Red Head
Goretex
suit kept me dry everywhere else tho. I was too stupid to put on the
rubber
overshoes in the locker before it was too late and my feet were wet.

By now it was almost 2:00 and we were quitting at 3:30. There was a
point across
the river I like and we started to go to it, but I decided to go on up
one more point.
When we got to it I threw to the rocks and got a solid hit, landing a
spot close to
two pounds. That culled my little one so I handed my partner the rod
with the
Yozuri bait that had been so good and told him to either use my outfit
or tie the lure
on his. He argued a bit but I told him I had a good limit, was happy
and wanted to
see if it was the lure or if I really had a horseshoe where the sun
don't shine today.
He finally picked up the rod.

I went back to the front of the boat and picked up the Bandit - first
cast to the rocks
with it I got a largemouth close to two pounds. My luck was unreal. It
culled my
smallest spot. Love it when I am culling pound and a half fish.

We fished around that point some more and neither of us got a bite.
We had a little
over an hour to fish so I started to go to the point across the river.
When I hit the
key nothing happened except my depthfinder went out. Talk about as sick
feeling.
There were very few boats on the lake, I was a LONG way from the weigh
in with
a good catch and a dead battery.

When I opened the back compartment I got sicker. Both trolling motor
batteries
were showing red in the little Delco eye. The trolling motor had been
fine but there
was no wind or current and I had it on low.

I switched the leads to one of the trolling motor batteries the motor
fired right up.
What a relief! Told my partner we were going to fish the last hour at
the ramp.

Got to the creek where the weigh in was to be held, unhooked the motor
cables and
hooked the trolling motor battery back up. Checked and the cranking
battery was
keeping the aerator working and the depthfinders going.

As we fished around this cove I noticed my partner put down the Yozuri
and went
back to his jig. He had caught four good keepers in December on it and
had
confidence in it. Told him I was going to throw the Yozuri if he
wasn't and started
casting it. Caught three short spots going around the cove - he never
had a bite.

Count for the day - 7 keepers, 7 throwbacks, if I remember right. All
but one hit the
one crankbait. My partner never hooked a fish.

I figured everyone had caught fish since I had a good day but talked to
a couple of
guys while waiting on the trailer and they had a couple of fish each.
At weigh in
my big fish was 5.87 - biggest I have caught in a while - and my five
weighed just
under 14 pounds. Did not hear was second and third place had but
fourth was eight
pounds.

Good start to the new year. Wish I was a good fisherman, not just a
luck fisherman,
and could keep it up and be consistent!

My partner done so good with the net I might marry him!

Ronnie

http://fishing.about.com

"Ronnie" wrote in message

Glad to hear it. My first of 07 wasn't so sterling. If you are looking for
an adventure in fishing with huge bags and lots of exciting catches stop
reading now.

We decided to take the flat bottom boat and run up river. My plan was to
crank and jerk little lakes up river each for about 45 minutes and move on
to the next one.

Clear Lake (next to Yuma Wash not in Ca) was a fight to get into even with
the little jon boat. We had to struggle and use the bigger motor tilted up
while my partner grabbed the tulies on either side up front to guide the
boat around the turns. I doubt any other boat on the river could have
gotten in at all Saturday.

I wasn't too worried about the low water though. Going up river Clear Lake
is one of the deeper backwaters with depths to about 7 feet in those
conditions. It was by far the deepest water we saw until we headed back
down river. I figured we would get a few in the open there. No luck. We
spent closer to an hour in Clear Lake and I might have had one bite on a
hard jerk bait. I couldn't tell for sure, but when I swept the hookset
there was nothing there. My partner said he felt a bump on the drop with a
spinner bait twice.

I probably should have changed tactics right then. Gone down river and
looked for more stable water levels, but being stubborn I decided to stick
to my plan. I have been catching fish in the lakes closer to the dam all
winter so far, but I zeroed out with my dad on boxing day and even before
that it had been slow with maybe one or two fish coming out of an entire
lake. Besides too many times in the past I have changed my plan early in
the day only to find out the guy who beat me nailed a big bag late in the
day doing what I had originally planned to do.

I stuck it out. We ran further up river dodging sandbars all the way. I
should have known it was going to be an adventure when I noticed the power
cord had vibrated out of my GPS map. I plugged it back in on the fly and
turned it back on. No big deal or so I thought until later.

We made it into Cabin Lake with no problems. I figured that was a good sign
until I saw my favorite rock to catch fish on was completely out of the
water. My partner threw a jerk bait most of the time. I worked a senko as
a jerk bait so I could throw to pockets and let it sink along tree trunks.
Finally I resorted to flipping the outside brush line of the lake heading
back towards the mouth.

Still stubbornly sticking to my plan I headed up to Taylor Lake. There was
a sandbar across the mouth of the lake, but I was able to ride my wake surge
most of the way over it as I came off pad and then both of us moved to the
front of the boat. By standing on the nose to bring the back up we were
able to float all the way in. Taylor Lake was so shallow with these low
winter water levels that I threw a mud trail every where I went. Most of
the time my sounder was reading in the 500-600 ft range. It does that when
its dragging through bottom muck. I know one stretch of the lake that is
about 1-2 feet deeper than the basin for a long stretch and we tried burning
shallow crank baits and jerk baits over it. We didn't get any bites, but I
learned that if you bash a jerk bait off a rock face often enough and hard
enough you will brake it. In fact I learned it a couple times.

Ok, I'ld had enough. We decided to hit the main river current and see of we
could nail a few smallmouth on deep rock faces. Not a bite. I worked a
crank bait with the current while my partner let the current bounce a grub
along the rocks down deep. We finally saw some water. Most of the rock
faces we tried were swept clean with depths almost to 30 feet. I know that
the current is not the place to win a tournament in the winter time, but
smallmouth are different. Sometimes a shear rock face with fast water deep
water will produce. Not this day.

It was only noon, but I was beaten. I tried my trick of refocusing. I put
my rod down, and took a soda out of the cooler. While munching on a beef
stick and sipping a soda we talked about our options.

Finally we headed down river. Remember that GPS cable I mentioned earlier?
Well normally I make a trace on the map going up river and just follow it
going back so I can run flat out without worrying about sandbars. Um. No
trace was saved when the power cable popped out. Being cocky and full of
myself I just decided to wing it. I felt the skeg tick through a couple
bars, but by staying in it we made it over the 1st couple just fine by
hugging the shore where its typically a little deeper. Then I held fast on
the shore when I should have zipped across the river. We were sure glad we
were in the little boat. Even ankle deep water will chill you pretty quick
when you have to stand in it to drag your boat off a sandbar.

We hit one deeper lake half way down and then headed to a spot way down
river were I have caught a couple fish every time I have gone in there. I
had originally discovered the spot about 3 years ago throwing a spinner bait
in the dead of winter and moving fast to cover water. The next weekend I
had gone back and my partner pulled up two decent fish on senkoes that
contributed to a check along with a bigger fish I picked up on a jigging
spoon. No joy today. We started out hitting it with a one two punch to
cover the two primary structure areas that I had determined in previous
trips where that the fish held. On the face of the steep bank, and right at
the bottom of it were the grass usually starts. We senkoed, we drop
shotted, we bladed, and we cranked. we started in the best strip and then
worked our way back over the bottom. I finally went total finness and
started dragging a drop shot along the bottom and letting the wind push us
across the width of the lake hoping to catch a stray in the grass on the
bottom.

Finally we headed in. I dropped my partner at the dock to go to work.
(He's an active duty marine and needed to be on duty soon.) With about 50
minutes left to fish I decided I'ld dredge one up right there in the marina
at Fisher's. I was not the only one with that thought. Except everybody
else I talked to had fish in the boat. I finished the day just doggedly
slinnging a ratletrap across the bay hoping for a fluke fish to bust me
open. Finally I put the boat up on the beach next to the weigh dock and
called it a day.

Only one other angler I talked to zeroed and he had atleast caught a couple
of shorts. I can not honestly say I even got a bite. That's pretty
humbling.

Next weekend I'll be fishing with the other guy who zeroed for Yuma
Bassmasters. LOL. I think I better go do some pre-fishing this week if I
can get away from work. Try and figure out a pattern.

--
Bob La Londe
Fishing Arizona & The Colorado River
Fishing Forums & Contests
http://www.YumaBassMan.com



--
Posted via a free Usenet account from http://www.teranews.com

"Bob La Londe" wrote in message
...
"Ronnie" wrote in message

Glad to hear it. My first of 07 wasn't so sterling. If you are looking for
an adventure in fishing with huge bags and lots of exciting catches stop
reading now.

snip
------------------------------------------

Boy, you were right, Bob. If I wanted a story with fish in it, I should have
kept on clicking.

Your story has a familiar ring to it, though. I've blanked in tournaments
more times than I care to remember. In fact, I probably forget them on
purpose.

I do remember one. It was a night tournament near Marion, Arkansas. Bear
Creek Lake. Little fruit jar tournament. Bubba and I didn't get a single tap
on our lures from 8 PM to 7 AM. I have trouble sleeping the night before a
tournament, so when we left the ramp at 8 AM, I hadn't really slept for
about 48 hours, and I was starting to feel a little tired.

However, as we drove back to Memphis (it was a two hour drive from Bear
Creek to our homes in east Shelby County), our distaste at not catching fish
overwhelmed our need to catch some Z's. We decided to go fishing.

We drove through Memphis and down into Mississippi, ending up at Arkabutla
dam. Folks were flocking to the banks, and as we watched, some of them were
hooking and keeping large, white fish. From our vantage point in the parking
lot above the spillway, we could see they were buffalo drum, which were
running upstream in their spring spawning migration. The dam had them
stacked up thick in the race, where white water roared out from the turbines
and tumbled down a boulder-lined channel to the old river bed below.

Now, Charles Summers is something of a local legend in middle Tennessee
when it comes to drum fishing, and he can affirm that drum like Rat'L Traps.
Bubba and I tied a couple of chrome/blue back ones on our rods, locked up
the truck, and clambered down the rocks to the river. Our first casts
revealed to us that the rushing, foamy water was only a foot or two deep.
Furthermore, the bottom was festooned with the accumulation of years of meat
fishermen's broken-off lines, which we snagged and had to pull off
frequently.

Some of those Mississippi fishermen use cheap, dime store monofilament and
old spark plugs as weights. They tie a drop-shot rig and the sparkplug
weight at the end of their line catches in a rock crevice. Then, they wait
until a drum snatches their bait that's dangling a few feet up the line in
the current. When that happens, the angler rears back, sets the hook, snaps
the line (below the hook, they hope) and reels in the fish. Consequently,
there's a lot of junk in the water. Almost no one throws crankbaits, for
obvious reasons.

But, there we were, and every other cast of our Rat'L Trap would be rewarded
with a drum, so we were in hawg heaven, reaffirming ourselves as expert
fishermen (remember, our egos had taken a beating the previous night), and
getting our lines stretched with strong fish in swift current. The average
size of the drum we were catching was three pounds.

After releasing a half dozen of them, we grew aware that the pitiful gaze of
this pathetic young mother of two children locked on us every time we
unhooked a fish. Her boy, about six years old, had a little Snoopy rod and
reel, with which he was flinging a little bobber and hook as far as he could
out into the river -- about ten feet, maximum. The current immediately swept
it back to the shore, so he wasn't having much luck in the four-inch deep
water that he was able to reach. The mother's empty 5-gallon bucket was
beside her, and when Bubba waved a 5-pound drum in its general direction and
contorted his face into an expression that was intended to mean, "would you
like this nice, fat fish?" she quickly nodded and smiled thankfully. We
filled up the bucket in about ten minutes. I think she was happy. I don't
know if the boy was too thrilled, because as soon as the bucket was full,
his fishing time was up. The mom grabbed kids, rod, and bucket and, with a
"gracias," climbed up the bank and out of sight.

Our act of kindness (Was it? We were just catching fish, and releasing them
to her bucket seemed better than releasing them back into the river, where
the dam denied their breeding imperative) had attracted attention. No sooner
had the first little mother cleared out when another took her place. She,
like the first woman, spoke no English. Neither Bubba nor I spoke Spanish
for the first, or Thai for the second, but Bubba had the "do you want fish"
down pat by that time, and that she understood. She nodded. We fished. Ten
minutes later, I could read here expression. "I wish I'd brought five
buckets... I could be rich!" Having but one, when it could hold no more fish
she picked it up without a word to us, jabbered at her kids, and lugging the
forty pound bucket of drum, they made their exit, too.

Having satisfied ourselves that fish once again should fear us, and also
finally breaking off our lures about that time, we, too, decided to head
out. Looking up, we saw that our part of the bank had become crowded in the
half hour since we arrived. Our path took us up past a line of women, kids
in tow, buckets in hand, glaring accusingly at us as we stumbled back up the
rip-rap to our truck.

Joe

"Joe Haubenreich" wrote in
message news:L72dnRv_7Y0-

Having satisfied ourselves that fish once again should fear us, and also
finally breaking off our lures about that time, we, too, decided to head
out.

I've done that on the way home from a tournament where I just stunk.
Stopped by my favorite canal bank and stuck a fish or two just to prove I
could.


--
Bob La Londe
Fishing Arizona & The Colorado River
Fishing Forums & Contests
http://www.YumaBassMan.com



--
Posted via a free Usenet account from http://www.teranews.com

Looking into that army of needy eyes, as I dragged my bedraggled body out of
there in search of some sleep, would have probably destroyed me on the spot.
I have become a huge soft-hearted wuss!

Bob
.................................................. .................................................. .....................................

"Joe Haubenreich" wrote in
message ...
"Bob La Londe" wrote in message
...
"Ronnie" wrote in message

Glad to hear it. My first of 07 wasn't so sterling. If you are looking
for
an adventure in fishing with huge bags and lots of exciting catches stop
reading now.

snip
------------------------------------------

Boy, you were right, Bob. If I wanted a story with fish in it, I should
have
kept on clicking.

Your story has a familiar ring to it, though. I've blanked in tournaments
more times than I care to remember. In fact, I probably forget them on
purpose.

I do remember one. It was a night tournament near Marion, Arkansas. Bear
Creek Lake. Little fruit jar tournament. Bubba and I didn't get a single
tap
on our lures from 8 PM to 7 AM. I have trouble sleeping the night before a
tournament, so when we left the ramp at 8 AM, I hadn't really slept for
about 48 hours, and I was starting to feel a little tired.

However, as we drove back to Memphis (it was a two hour drive from Bear
Creek to our homes in east Shelby County), our distaste at not catching
fish
overwhelmed our need to catch some Z's. We decided to go fishing.

We drove through Memphis and down into Mississippi, ending up at Arkabutla
dam. Folks were flocking to the banks, and as we watched, some of them
were
hooking and keeping large, white fish. From our vantage point in the
parking
lot above the spillway, we could see they were buffalo drum, which were
running upstream in their spring spawning migration. The dam had them
stacked up thick in the race, where white water roared out from the
turbines
and tumbled down a boulder-lined channel to the old river bed below.

Now, Charles Summers is something of a local legend in middle Tennessee
when it comes to drum fishing, and he can affirm that drum like Rat'L
Traps.
Bubba and I tied a couple of chrome/blue back ones on our rods, locked up
the truck, and clambered down the rocks to the river. Our first casts
revealed to us that the rushing, foamy water was only a foot or two deep.
Furthermore, the bottom was festooned with the accumulation of years of
meat
fishermen's broken-off lines, which we snagged and had to pull off
frequently.

Some of those Mississippi fishermen use cheap, dime store monofilament and
old spark plugs as weights. They tie a drop-shot rig and the sparkplug
weight at the end of their line catches in a rock crevice. Then, they wait
until a drum snatches their bait that's dangling a few feet up the line in
the current. When that happens, the angler rears back, sets the hook,
snaps
the line (below the hook, they hope) and reels in the fish. Consequently,
there's a lot of junk in the water. Almost no one throws crankbaits, for
obvious reasons.

But, there we were, and every other cast of our Rat'L Trap would be
rewarded
with a drum, so we were in hawg heaven, reaffirming ourselves as expert
fishermen (remember, our egos had taken a beating the previous night), and
getting our lines stretched with strong fish in swift current. The average
size of the drum we were catching was three pounds.

After releasing a half dozen of them, we grew aware that the pitiful gaze
of
this pathetic young mother of two children locked on us every time we
unhooked a fish. Her boy, about six years old, had a little Snoopy rod and
reel, with which he was flinging a little bobber and hook as far as he
could
out into the river -- about ten feet, maximum. The current immediately
swept
it back to the shore, so he wasn't having much luck in the four-inch deep
water that he was able to reach. The mother's empty 5-gallon bucket was
beside her, and when Bubba waved a 5-pound drum in its general direction
and
contorted his face into an expression that was intended to mean, "would
you
like this nice, fat fish?" she quickly nodded and smiled thankfully. We
filled up the bucket in about ten minutes. I think she was happy. I don't
know if the boy was too thrilled, because as soon as the bucket was full,
his fishing time was up. The mom grabbed kids, rod, and bucket and, with a
"gracias," climbed up the bank and out of sight.

Our act of kindness (Was it? We were just catching fish, and releasing
them
to her bucket seemed better than releasing them back into the river, where
the dam denied their breeding imperative) had attracted attention. No
sooner
had the first little mother cleared out when another took her place. She,
like the first woman, spoke no English. Neither Bubba nor I spoke Spanish
for the first, or Thai for the second, but Bubba had the "do you want
fish"
down pat by that time, and that she understood. She nodded. We fished. Ten
minutes later, I could read here expression. "I wish I'd brought five
buckets... I could be rich!" Having but one, when it could hold no more
fish
she picked it up without a word to us, jabbered at her kids, and lugging
the
forty pound bucket of drum, they made their exit, too.

Having satisfied ourselves that fish once again should fear us, and also
finally breaking off our lures about that time, we, too, decided to head
out. Looking up, we saw that our part of the bank had become crowded in
the
half hour since we arrived. Our path took us up past a line of women, kids
in tow, buckets in hand, glaring accusingly at us as we stumbled back up
the
rip-rap to our truck.

Joe

We figured we had already done our good deed for the day by donating two
tubs o' drum to feed the hungry. I guess we could have risked more Rat'L
Traps to the cause, but by that time the ground was beginning to pitch and
spin -- that, or I really needed to get some shut-eye.

Joe
----------------------
"Bob Rickard" wrote in message
. net...
Looking into that army of needy eyes, as I dragged my bedraggled body out of
there in search of some sleep, would have probably destroyed me on the spot.
I have become a huge soft-hearted wuss!

Bob
.................................................. .................................................. .....................................

"Joe Haubenreich" wrote in
message ...
"Bob La Londe" wrote in message
...
"Ronnie" wrote in message

Glad to hear it. My first of 07 wasn't so sterling. If you are looking
for
an adventure in fishing with huge bags and lots of exciting catches stop
reading now.

snip
------------------------------------------

Boy, you were right, Bob. If I wanted a story with fish in it, I should
have
kept on clicking.

Your story has a familiar ring to it, though. I've blanked in tournaments
more times than I care to remember. In fact, I probably forget them on
purpose.

I do remember one. It was a night tournament near Marion, Arkansas. Bear
Creek Lake. Little fruit jar tournament. Bubba and I didn't get a single
tap
on our lures from 8 PM to 7 AM. I have trouble sleeping the night before a
tournament, so when we left the ramp at 8 AM, I hadn't really slept for
about 48 hours, and I was starting to feel a little tired.

However, as we drove back to Memphis (it was a two hour drive from Bear
Creek to our homes in east Shelby County), our distaste at not catching
fish
overwhelmed our need to catch some Z's. We decided to go fishing.

We drove through Memphis and down into Mississippi, ending up at Arkabutla
dam. Folks were flocking to the banks, and as we watched, some of them
were
hooking and keeping large, white fish. From our vantage point in the
parking
lot above the spillway, we could see they were buffalo drum, which were
running upstream in their spring spawning migration. The dam had them
stacked up thick in the race, where white water roared out from the
turbines
and tumbled down a boulder-lined channel to the old river bed below.

Now, Charles Summers is something of a local legend in middle Tennessee
when it comes to drum fishing, and he can affirm that drum like Rat'L
Traps.
Bubba and I tied a couple of chrome/blue back ones on our rods, locked up
the truck, and clambered down the rocks to the river. Our first casts
revealed to us that the rushing, foamy water was only a foot or two deep.
Furthermore, the bottom was festooned with the accumulation of years of
meat
fishermen's broken-off lines, which we snagged and had to pull off
frequently.

Some of those Mississippi fishermen use cheap, dime store monofilament and
old spark plugs as weights. They tie a drop-shot rig and the sparkplug
weight at the end of their line catches in a rock crevice. Then, they wait
until a drum snatches their bait that's dangling a few feet up the line in
the current. When that happens, the angler rears back, sets the hook,
snaps
the line (below the hook, they hope) and reels in the fish. Consequently,
there's a lot of junk in the water. Almost no one throws crankbaits, for
obvious reasons.

But, there we were, and every other cast of our Rat'L Trap would be
rewarded
with a drum, so we were in hawg heaven, reaffirming ourselves as expert
fishermen (remember, our egos had taken a beating the previous night), and
getting our lines stretched with strong fish in swift current. The average
size of the drum we were catching was three pounds.

After releasing a half dozen of them, we grew aware that the pitiful gaze
of
this pathetic young mother of two children locked on us every time we
unhooked a fish. Her boy, about six years old, had a little Snoopy rod and
reel, with which he was flinging a little bobber and hook as far as he
could
out into the river -- about ten feet, maximum. The current immediately
swept
it back to the shore, so he wasn't having much luck in the four-inch deep
water that he was able to reach. The mother's empty 5-gallon bucket was
beside her, and when Bubba waved a 5-pound drum in its general direction
and
contorted his face into an expression that was intended to mean, "would
you
like this nice, fat fish?" she quickly nodded and smiled thankfully. We
filled up the bucket in about ten minutes. I think she was happy. I don't
know if the boy was too thrilled, because as soon as the bucket was full,
his fishing time was up. The mom grabbed kids, rod, and bucket and, with a
"gracias," climbed up the bank and out of sight.

Our act of kindness (Was it? We were just catching fish, and releasing
them
to her bucket seemed better than releasing them back into the river, where
the dam denied their breeding imperative) had attracted attention. No
sooner
had the first little mother cleared out when another took her place. She,
like the first woman, spoke no English. Neither Bubba nor I spoke Spanish
for the first, or Thai for the second, but Bubba had the "do you want
fish"
down pat by that time, and that she understood. She nodded. We fished. Ten
minutes later, I could read here expression. "I wish I'd brought five
buckets... I could be rich!" Having but one, when it could hold no more
fish
she picked it up without a word to us, jabbered at her kids, and lugging
the
forty pound bucket of drum, they made their exit, too.

Having satisfied ourselves that fish once again should fear us, and also
finally breaking off our lures about that time, we, too, decided to head
out. Looking up, we saw that our part of the bank had become crowded in
the
half hour since we arrived. Our path took us up past a line of women, kids
in tow, buckets in hand, glaring accusingly at us as we stumbled back up
the
rip-rap to our truck.

Joe

"Joe Haubenreich" wrote in
message . ..
We figured we had already done our good deed for the day by donating two
tubs o' drum to feed the hungry. I guess we could have risked more Rat'L
Traps to the cause, but by that time the ground was beginning to pitch and
spin -- that, or I really needed to get some shut-eye.

Drinkin' again, huh Joe? ;-p
--
Steve @ OutdoorFrontiers
http://www.outdoorfrontiers.com
G & S Guide Service and Custom Rods
http://www.herefishyfishy.com

(Ronnie)
Flint River Bass Club Tournament - January 7, 2007 - Jackson Lake
Good start to the new year. Wish I was a good fisherman, not just a luck
fisherman,
and could keep it up and be consistent!
My partner done so good with the net I might marry him!
Ronnie
========
Congrats on a great day Ronnie.....And I don't believe that "luck"
stuff!

I enjoyed the read!

John K

On 8 Jan 2007 03:54:44 -0800, "Ronnie"
wrote:

Flint River Bass Club Tournament - January 7, 2007 - Jackson Lake

First tournament of the year.

Snip

At weigh in
my big fish was 5.87 - biggest I have caught in a while - and my five
weighed just
under 14 pounds. Did not hear was second and third place had but
fourth was eight
pounds.

Good start to the new year. Wish I was a good fisherman, not just a
luck fisherman,
and could keep it up and be consistent!

Luck fisherman, ya right Ronnie, yer just a luck fisherman. LOL

Good start, congrats!

Dan

Remove the x for e-mail reply
1996 HD Sportster 1200S. N9JBF. Bass fishing Aficionado!
www.outdoorfrontiers.com www.SecretWeaponLures.com
A proud charter member of "PETAF", People for Eating Tasty Animals and Fish!!!

One of the best "lucky" ones I've ever been around.
Way to go Ronnie !
"Dan, danl, Redbeard uh Greybeard now" wrote in message
...
On 8 Jan 2007 03:54:44 -0800, "Ronnie"
wrote:

Flint River Bass Club Tournament - January 7, 2007 - Jackson Lake

First tournament of the year.

Snip

At weigh in
my big fish was 5.87 - biggest I have caught in a while - and my five
weighed just
under 14 pounds. Did not hear was second and third place had but
fourth was eight
pounds.

Good start to the new year. Wish I was a good fisherman, not just a
luck fisherman,
and could keep it up and be consistent!

Luck fisherman, ya right Ronnie, yer just a luck fisherman. LOL

Good start, congrats!

Dan

Remove the x for e-mail reply
1996 HD Sportster 1200S. N9JBF. Bass fishing Aficionado!
www.outdoorfrontiers.com www.SecretWeaponLures.com
A proud charter member of "PETAF", People for Eating Tasty Animals and
Fish!!!