Bad news for the basses

George and I got hooked up to go fishing this week for the first time in what seems like months. I don’t know how we got so busy, but I guess we did. Besides, he’s just getting through with therapy after his brothers, older Larry and even older Larry, have admitted that they have become ardent FLY FISHERMEN (Note: Avid is used to describe most fishermen who love the sport; ardent is reserved for those who love the sport, but obviously don’t understand why).

But back to the lake. We agreed to meet and head out for a favorite old bass fishing spot. After waiting about 30 minutes after the designated time, George got there and we were fishing in no time. In fact, it wasn’t long until we had a five pounder in the boat. Well, I guess you would say in the boat. . . I caught it standing on the bank by the launch ramp while George fumbled around trying to get the straps off the boat, gear on board and the trailer backed into the water.

Have you ever tried to catch a big bass and take a picture of it at the same time?

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I don’t need any help.” Somehow he didn’t seem thrilled about my catch. So I think maybe he did need some help, because he didn’t even want to stop what he was doing and open the lid on the ice chest for me. About 15 minutes later,  he finally got the boat backed in and pulled up to the dock for me to get in. I had only caught two more. Who said fishing is a lot of work?

We headed across the lake to an old fallen oak tree that often serves as a Summer Bass Lodge. I caught a couple of more on my favorite purple worm, then started bream fishing until George could get one in the boat after changing to the proper lure.

It was a good day. We caught about 30 bass. Kept a mess for supper and even solved all the problems with waiting in line at Walmart, straightening out the White House, fixing the problem with too many taxes and several other important social and economic issues.

We loaded up the boat, but noticed a lot of water draining out of the lake into another spot. Moving water = bass. It was hard to get to, but we worked our way down a muddy trail and to an open spot on top of the levee where the water was coming out of the culvert. Wham! We caught five or six more in just a few minutes. One of mine got hung up in a bush about six feet down the bank, so to prove he’s a good fishing partner, George scampered down the hill, got it untangled and held up my bass before, he claims, accidentally dropping it back in the water. Mind you I could have made it down the bank. I just might not have made it back UP.

George is even frying the fish for supper and I get to come if I bring some green tomatoes to batter and fry. Sounds like a good day.

Nobody got stung by yellow jackets, left their fishing license at home, fell in the lake, broke a fishing rod or anything. Sounds like a good day, except for the basses. Now I’m just wondering if that really was George. . .

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If you are a new reader to lakedarbonnelife, you need to catch up on some of the old George stories. Simply go to the search bar in the middle of the top row on the home page, enter “George” and click. I hope you enjoy.