From My House to All of Yours...

 

I don't always put much stock in statistics. Here's why.

 

When I worked as a writer-editor for a safety magazine, I was expected to include at least a few statistics in most of my articles. After all, we were writing about mishaps most of the time.

 

Here's the problem I had with those statistics, though. Many times when I went to my expert statistician, she would give me a set of numbers that really didn't work for the article I wanted to write. So, I would go back and tell her such, at which point she always would ask, "What would you like the numbers to say?"

 

I'd answer her question, go back to my office, and, presto-chango, a short while later, she would produce a set of statistics reflecting exactly what I needed them to say. And that wasn't just a rare occurrence, either. It happened 50 percent or more of the time.

 

That's why I sometimes consider the power of numbers with a bit of reservation.

 

When I was thinking about a New Year's article for my blog, however, I decided to let numbers do some of the talking for me. As usual, I turned to the Internet for help. My focus was on drawing a correlation of some kind between people who make New Year's resolutions and those who play the lottery.

 

Ultimately, I settled on comparing the average percentage of people who actually keep their New Year's resolutions with the average chance of winning the lottery. I learned that only about 8 percent of those who make a New Year's resolution actually keep it. In comparison, lottery players have only a 0.026084 percent (less than three one-hundredths of a percent) chance of winning the big bucks. Using these numbers, I quickly was able to discern that you're 306 times (plus a little) more likely to keep your New Year's resolution than you are to win the lottery.

 

So, instead of following that advice to "play on America," as the lottery-drawing announcer on TV always tells you to do, I'd recommend that you sit down and come up with some good New Year's resolutions. Whether you resolve to shed a few pounds, make a killin' in the stock market, or maybe catch a world-record bass, your odds at doing those things far exceed any chances you have of picking the winning lotto numbers--based on my math. I'm no expert, though, so don't come back and ask me to make them say something else.

 

Have a safe, prosperous and Happy New Year--one and all.

Would You Believe--A Double Limit Today?



That's right--a total of 10 bass, all caught on crankbaits...in North Carolina, no less. And the weights are even more unbelievable. The small limit included a 1-4, 2-4, 3-5, 4-5, and 5-2, for a total weight of 16-4. Didn't figure I'd ever top that in a million years, but then I turned around and bagged a 6-7, 7-2, 8-1, 9-3, and 10-1, for a total weight of 40-14. Are you dyin' yet to know where I was when I caught all of these lunkers?

OK, I'll tell you. I was sitting on the sofa in my son and daughter-in-law's front room (in Moyock) playing with my 20-year-old, hand-held, battery-powered Radica: Bass Fishin' game (see photo at right).

I can't begin to tell you when the last time was that I had played with this thing. It had been so long I first had to go online and print out a set of instructions before I could get started. After that, though, it was a piece of cake.

Don't know how many of you will admit to still having enough "child" left in them to play with something like this game, but I, for one, derive a lot of fun from it. In case you're not familiar with how the game operates, once you feel a strike and are quick enough to set the hook, you feel this vibration in the game's handle until you either land or lose the fish. And, once you land it, a little window in the upper right corner of the glass front shows you the weight of the fish you just caught.

It's a total blast, and I wouldn't take a million dollars for this thing. I'm not sure if it was a Christmas present from my wife or my kids, but I am pretty sure I got it about 20 years ago. I reckon you could say it was the forerunner of those Wii games that people plug into their TV sets today.

All I know is that, when for one reason or another, you're not able to actually get out on the water and feel the tug of a fish on the other end of your line, this game makes a darn good substitute--at least that's the way it is for me.

Call me a little bit crazy, or maybe I'm just on the fast track to my second childhood, but I believe that life is just what we each make it. And while I'm not always the world's best role model in that regard, I no less try to find things to smile about and, more importantly, make others smile, too, especially this time of year. Speaking of that, here's hoping everyone has had a delightful Christmas Day, surrounded by friends and family and all things good to eat. Bless you one and all.

I was talking to my friend, Jimmy, today (Sunday, Dec. 28), and he told me that he, too, has found his Radica game, loaded some new batteries in it, and is stalking his share of bass now. Makes me wonder if anyone else has gone looking for theirs.

I'm not sure what the biggest bass is that swims in the game's lakes, but I got on some biguns Friday and landed about eight that weighed more than 20 lbs. apiece. Once more, they all came on crankbaits, which, as anyone who knows me will attest, is my favorite bait this time of year--whether it's for real or just a game.

Old Navy Christmas

This is the sixth and final Navy-ized version of the "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" poem. In the foreground of this December 2012 photo is the guided-missile cruiser USS Antietam (CG 54), with its holiday lights displayed while moored at Naval Base San Diego. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Stephen M. Votaw.

Author Unknown

 

'Twas the night before Christmas, compartments were still,

The Sailors were sleeping, as most Sailors will.

The ditty bags hung by the lockers with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

 

The men were all peacefully dreaming in bed,

As visions of liberty danced in each head.

The Chief, in his skivvies, hopped into his rack,

Having just come from town and a quick midnight snack.

 

When out on the deck, there arose such a roar,

I ran to the porthole to find out the score.

I stuck out my head and started to shout,

"Just what in the world is this noise all about?"

 

A moon made for boondocking showed with a glow,

It was downright cold out, 'bout seven below.

What I saw out there looked like those Mardi Gras floats,

'Twas a Captain's gig drawn by four white Navy goats.

 

In the boat was a man who seemed quiet and moody,

I knew in an instant St. Nick had the duty.

As quickly as Monday his billy goats came,

He whistled and shouted and called them by name.

 

"Now Perry, now Farragut, Dewey, and Jones,

What's the matter John Paul, got lead in your bones?

A little to starb'rd, now hold it up short,

No fluffing off now, or you'll go on report!"

 

He was wearing dress "reds" that fit like a charm,

His hash marks, they covered the length of his arm.

The gifts to be issued were all in his pack,

The gedunk was ready to leave on each rack.

 

His eyes, they were watering, his nose caked with ice,

He wiped it with canvas, then sneezed once or twice.

He opened his mouth and started to yawn,

It looked like the sun coming up with the dawn.

 

The stump of a pipe, he held tight in his teeth,

And took a small nip from a bottle beneath.

He wasn't so big, but he must have been strong,

I figured he'd been in SEALs, early and long.

 

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old Tar,

Who said, "Evenin', Matey--here, have a cigar."

He filled every seabag with presents galore,

And left us all with leave papers, right by the door.

 

With "Anchors Aweigh," he climbed back into place,

A broad smile was creeping all over his face.

One look at his watch, and he started to frown,

"This mid-watch is certainly getting me down."

 

Then out to the breakwater and into the night,

The gig started fading, the landscape was bright.

"Merry Christmas!" he said, as he drove on his way,

"Now I'll finish my rounds and sack in for the day."

 

(Courtesy of "The Goat Locker," http://goatlocker.org.)

 

Here's hoping you have enjoyed this series as much as I have enjoyed bringing it to you. Have a wondrously joyous holiday season.

The Red Nomex Aviator

Here is the fifth of six Navy-ized versions of the "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" poem. The accompanying October 2014 photo shows aircraft resting on the flight deck of the aircraft carrier USS Theodore Roosevelt (CVN 71) as the sun goes down on a busy day of flight operations and carrier qualifications. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist Seaman Anthony N. Hikowski.

Author Unknown

 

On the night before Christmas, my ship was at sea,

A big flat-top "bird farm" from the land of the free.

Cruising the ocean at "the tip of the spear,"

So everyone home could sleep sound, with no fear.

 

Flight ops had ended hours ago,

The day crew had turned in and gone down below.

Night crew was doin' their maintenance checks,

The aircrews and pilots were gettin' some rest.

 

The cooks in the galley were fixin' mid-rats,

The Air Boss and Cap'n could finally relax.

CIC called up, said something's inbound,

Prob'ly the mail plane, a C-2 Greyhound.

 

Stand clear of the foul-line, one to recover,

"Angel" is airborne, to starboard he'll hover.

Spotters see only one red blinkin' light,

No markers on wing-tips, now somethin' ain't right.

 

All eyes are watching, but no one believes,

What comes o'er the round-down, bold as you please.

Nine deer and a sleigh, no tail-hook or tires,

How does Paddles grade a trap with no wire?

 

A red Nomex flight-suit, of course gloves to match,

And "S. Claus" printed on his aviator patch.

Why, it's old Santa Claus wearin' goggles and leather,

With bags full of Christmas cards, presents and letters.

 

Don't stand there gawkin', froze in your tracks,

Give him a hand with unloadin' those sacks.

The bags are all carried to the mail room below,

And after a pre-flight, Santa's ready to go.

 

The cat-crew is wondering now which hold-back pin,

Santa just laughs, then he's airborne again.

We didn't hear jingling bells from his sleigh,

'Ol Santa was whistling "Anchors Aweigh."

 

Off the angle-deck, over wave-caps of white,

Even without afterburners, he's soon out of sight.

We all stood there doubting what we just had seen,

But the deer left a present, smelly and green.

 

Over the side, with all the deer turds,

Don't want them things fod'in one of our birds.

Tho' that night happened many long years ago,

Santa still travels to our ships on the foam.

 

(Courtesy of "The Goat Locker," http://goatlocker.org.)

The Corpsman's Christmas Poem

Here's the fourth of six Navy-ized versions of the "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" poem. In the accompanying photo, a Navy corpsman (right) treats a simulated injured Marine as part of a mass-casualty drill. Marine Corps photo by LCpl. Joey Holeman.

Author Unknown

 

'Twas the night before Christmas, as I flew o'er the Marine Base,

When I spied a young man who seemed out of place.

His eyes showed compassion, his hair a bit long,

But his head was held high, and his body was strong.

 

His air was confident, his uniform smart,

But what impressed me most was the size of his heart.

For he embodied honor, one of this country's best,

And the words "U.S. Navy" showed large on his chest.

 

As I stood there in wonder and gazed into his eyes,

The words that he spoke took me quite by surprise.

"What's wrong, Santa, haven't you ever seen a Sailor before?"

I sensed something special and longed to know more.

 

"To be honest, this field thing wasn't part of my plan,

But God didn't give me a boat or tin can."

The words he spoke next surprised me all the more,

"But I'm as proud of my Navy, as I am of the Corps!

 

"Don't worry, Santa, that I'm a Sailor you see,

For when a Marine goes down, they will still call on me.

They'll forget I'm a Sailor, they'll call in my stock.

At the top of their lungs, they'll yell, 'Get me the doc!'

 

"And I'll answer that call, anytime, anywhere,

Though I know I'm a target, I really don't care.

I'll face incoming fire, as I race cross the land,

And use my very own body to shield a downed man.

 

"Working long hours and into the night,

My unit's battle is over, but I'm just starting to fight.

For the life of every Marine is sacred to me,

I refuse to surrender them to death, and in that I'll find victory.

 

"And yet, I'll take the time to comfort a dying man,

To sit down by his side, to reach out and hold his hand.

For it takes as much courage to care as to fight,

For just as the poem says, many don't 'go gently into that night.'

 

"Santa, it's not any one uniform that makes you a man,

But rather, it's those ideals for which you choose to stand.

I draw my line here; it's long, and it's plain,

For pain, hurt and suffering are the things I disdain.

 

"I know very well that I may lose my life,

So that a Marine may see an unmet child and young wife.

So, Santa, it really doesn't matter if they don't like my hair,

I'm a Navy Corpsman, their Doc, and I'll always be there.

 

"I follow the brave docs who have come long before,

From Belleau Wood, Iwo, and Lebanon's shore.

As history proudly shows, they all gave their best,

And for those who have died, surely they're blessed.

 

"At Inchon, the gulf, and times during Tet,

Our brothers have fallen, but we carry on yet.

For we carry their honor and legacy still,"

As I held back my tears, it took all of my will.

 

I had to leave them, for I had other plans,

But I knew in my heart that the Corps is in good hands.

As I flew away, I heard his laughter; it rang so loud and clear,

"Hey, Santa, how 'bout a nice pair of boots for the 26-miler next year?"

 

(Courtesy of "The Goat Locker," http://goatlocker.org.)

If Only Ol' Dewey Could See Us Now

Maybe, in a way, he can. There isn't a single time I cross the West Neck Bridge or run West Neck Creek and turn south on the North Landing River that I don't sense his presence. I've even, on a few occasions, audibly said, "Good morning, my old friend," especially when I see the sun just peeking over the horizon in the distance and casting its familiar, awe-inspiring glow on the water. And more than once, I've glanced down to find goose bumps forming on my arms and felt the hackles on my neck tingling ever so slightly.

If he indeed is present in some fashion, I know beyond all doubt this good ol' West Virginia boy is smiling from ear to ear as he sees the fruits of his labors growing every year, with regards to our annual tourney statistics.

As I reported some time ago, an angler who wanted to walk away with the 1st-place prize money from one of our tourneys in 2010 only needed a sack of fish weighing an average of 10.84 lbs. That same angler in 2011 needed a bag weighing an average of 11.23 lbs., and by 2012, the required average had increased to 13.17 lbs. For the 2013 season, the average winning 1st-place weight had bumped up to 13.94 lbs., and in 2014, you needed a bag averaging 14.56 lbs. to lay claim to 1st place.

We finally broke the 20-lb. barrier in 2013, when the team of Mike Evans and Jeff Garnes weighed a limit of five fish on April 23, that tipped the scales at 20.47 lbs., anchored by a 5.70-lb. bass.

This feat then was repeated in 2014, when the duo of Mike Miller and Chris Fretard (pictured here, l-r), brought a sack of five fish to the scales on Sept. 6, weighing 20.26 lbs., anchored by a 7.47-lb. bass. The only reason they didn't win the 2014 Seasonal Lunker Award with this fish was because they opted not to participate in that category.

Ronnie McLaughlin (pictured left), instead, claimed the Seasonal Lunker Award with a 7.15-lb. bass he caught in the 2014 season opener on March 22.

Continuing that "up, up and away" trend in 2014 was our Angler of the Year competition, which saw Mark London (pictured right) eclipse the 2013 total of 146.92 lbs. set by Bob Glass by more than 21 lbs. Mark finished 2014 with a total of 168.35 lbs.

Perhaps I'm sticking my neck out, but I'm predicting the 2015 season will find us recording not only an average 1st-place weight of better than 15 lbs., but also the first-ever 8-pounder to be weighed on a tournament day. And along with that, I have to believe we'll see an even bigger final weight tally for Angler of the Year.

I wish every angler who participates in the 2015 Dewey Mullins Memorial Bass Tourney Series a stunningly successful year--for your own self-satisfaction and in tribute to the grand master who started it all. OOhRah! Tight Lines! and anything else that motivates you to do your best.

Naval Air Christmas

This is the third of six Navy-ized versions of the "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" poem. The accompanying 2013 photo shows F/A-18s parked on the tarmac at NAS Oceana. Photographer unknown.

Author Unknown

 

'Twas the night before Christmas, and out on the ramp,

Not an airplane was stirring, not even a Champ.

The aircraft were fastened, to tie-downs with care,

In hopes that come morning, they all would be there.

 

The fuel trucks were nestled, all snug in their spots,

With gusts from two-forty, at 39 knots.

I slumped at the fuel desk, now finally caught up,

And settled down comfortably, resting my butt.

 

When the radio lit up, with noise and chatter,

I turned up the scanner, to see what was the matter.

A voice clearly heard, over static and snow,

Called for clearance to land, at the airport below.

 

He barked his transmission, so lively and quick,

Couldn't hear him too well, but think his call sign was "St. Nick."

I ran to the panel, to turn up the lights,

The better to welcome, this magical flight.

 

He called his position, no room for denial,

"St. Nicholas One, turnin' left onto final."

And then to my wondering eyes, there did suddenly appear,

A Rutan-built sleigh, with eight Rotax reindeer!

 

With vectors to final, down the glide slope he came,

As he passed all fixes, he called them by name.

"Now Ringo! Now Tolga! Now Trini and Bacun!

On Comet! On Cupid!" What pills was he takin'?

 

While controllers were sittin', and scratchin' their head,

They phoned to my office, and I heard it with dread.

The message they left, was both urgent and dour:

"When Santa pulls in, have him please call the tower."

 

He landed like silk, with the sled runners sparking,

Then I heard, "Left at Charlie," and "Taxi to parking."

He slowed to a taxi, turned off of three-oh,

And stopped on the ramp, with a "Ho, Ho, Ho..."

 

He stepped out of the sleigh, but before he talks,

I ran out to meet him, with my best set of chocks.

His red helmet and goggles, were covered with frost,

And his beard was all blackened, from reindeer exhaust.

 

His breath smelled like peppermint, gone slightly stale,

And he puffed on a pipe, but didn't inhale.

His cheeks were all rosy, and jiggled like jelly,

His boots were as black, as a crop-duster's belly.

 

He was chubby and plump, in his suit of bright red,

And he asked me to "fill it, with hundred low-lead."

Then he came dashing in, from the snow-covered pump,

I knew he was anxious, for drainin' the sump.

 

I spoke not a word, but went straight to work,

And I filled up the sleigh, but I spilled like a jerk.

He came out of the restroom, and sighed in relief,

Then he picked up a phone, for a flight-service brief.

 

And I thought as he silently, scribed in his log,

These reindeer could land, in an eighth-mile fog.

He completed his pre-flight, from the front to the rear,

Then he put on his headset, and I heard him yell, "Clear!"

 

And laying a finger, on his push-to-talk,

He called up the tower, for clearance and squawk.

"Take taxiway Charlie, the southbound direction,

Turn right three-two-zero, at pilot's discretion."

 

He sped down the runway, the best of the best,

"Your traffic's a T-6, inbound from the west."

Then I heard him proclaim, as he climbed thru the night,

"Merry Christmas to all! I have traffic in sight."

 

(Courtesy of "The Goat Locker," http://goatlocker.org.)

'Twas the Night Before Christmas--Submarine Style

 

As promised, here's the second of six Navy-ized versions of this popular poem. Incidentally, this December 2012 photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Steven Khor shows the Los Angeles-class attack submarine USS Tucson (SSN 770) decorated for the holidays while moored at Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickam, Hawaii.



Author Unknown

 

'Twas the night before Christmas, and what no one could see,

The men with the dolphins were under the sea.

Most of the crew was flat on their backs,

Snoring and dreaming, all snug in their racks.

 

Those men on watch were making their rounds,

Some manning the planes, or listening for sounds.

Back in maneuvering or down in the room,

They all hoped the oncoming watch would come soon.

 

I'd finished some PMs, whose time was now due,

And hoped for some sleep, even an hour or two.

Against better judgment, I took a short stroll,

And found myself wandering into control.

 

The Nav had the Conn, the COW was in place,

The COB had the Dive and a scowl on his face.

The helm and the planes were relaxed but aware,

The QM and ET were discussing a dare.

 

To comply with the orders, the Nav told the Dive,

To bring the boat up with minimum rise.

The orders were given, and soon they were there,

At periscope depth, with a scope in the air.

 

The QM confirmed our position with care,

The broadcast was copied, we brought in some air.

The Nav on the scope let out a small cry,

He shook his head twice and rubbed at his eyes.

 

He looked once again to find what it was,

That interrupted his sweep and caused him to pause.

Try as he might, there was nothing to see,

So down went the scope, and us to the deep.

 

I asked what it was that caused his dismay,

He sheepishly said, "I'm embarrassed to say.

It could have been Northern Lights or a cloud,

Or a meteorite," he wondered aloud.

 

But to tell you the truth, I guess I must say,

Whatever it was, it looked like a sleigh.

And though it passed quickly and never was clear,

I almost believe it was pulled by reindeer.

 

We laughed and teased him, and I got up to go,

When our moment was broken by "Conn, Radio."

They told us a message was just coming in,

We looked at the depth gauge and started to grin.

 

"Radio, Conn, I feel safe to say,

Your attempt at a joke is too long delayed.

If it had been sooner, it might have been neat,

But I doubt we're receiving at four-hundred feet."

 

"Conn, Radio, you can come down and see,

We're not playing games to any degree."

I headed aft, with nothing better to do,

Surprised by the fact it was still coming through.

 

It stopped and was sent to control to be read,

The Nav read it slowly and scratched at his head.

Then again, he began but this time aloud,

To those that now waited, a curious crowd.

 

"To you Denizens of the Deep and men of the sea,

Who risk your life daily, so others stay free.

I rarely have seen you on this, my big night,

For far too often, you are hidden from sight.

 

"But purely by luck, I saw you tonight,

As your scope coaxed the plankton to glow in the night.

And lucky for me, I've finally won,

The chance to say thanks for all you have done.

 

"I know that you miss your families at home,

And sometimes you feel as if you're alone.

But trust what I say, and I'll do what's right,

I'll take something special to your families tonight.

 

"Along with the gifts, I'll take to your kin,

I'll visit their dreams and leave word within.

They'll hear of your love, and how you miss them,

I'll tell them that soon you'll be home again.

 

"It might not be much, I know that is true,

To thank you for all the things that you do.

But I'll do what I can, while you do what's right,

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight."

 

(Courtesy of "The Goat Locker," http://goatlocker.org.) 

Season's Greetings One and All

Along with my holiday greetings this year, I'm including the first of what will be a total of six different U.S. Navy variations of the "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" poem. I plan to post one each day between now and Christmas Eve. I'm also considering the possibility of including a similar poem each holiday season henceforth--but only one, not the six I'm using this introductory year.

As a Navy retiree and writer for many years now, these poems always have warmed my heart, and I truly hope they'll be a source of inspiration and enjoyment for all my readers, too. With that explanation out of the way, here's the first poem:

Sailor's Christmas

Author Unknown

 

'Twas the night before Christmas, the ship was out steaming,

Sailors stood watch, while others were dreaming.

They lived in a crowd, with racks tight and small,

In an 80-man berthing, cramped one and all.

 

I had come down the stack with presents to give,

And to see inside just who might perhaps live.

I looked all about, a strange sight did I see,

No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.

 

No stockings were hung, shined boots close at hand,

On the bulkhead hung pictures of a far-distant land.

They had medals and badges and awards of all kind,

And a sober thought came into my mind.

 

For this place was different, so dark and so dreary,

I had found the house of a Sailor, once I saw clearly.

A Sailor lay sleeping, silent and alone,

Curled up in a rack and dreaming of home.

 

The face was so gentle, the room squared away,

This was the United States Sailor today.

This was the hero I saw on TV,

Defending our country, so we could be free.

 

I realized the families that I would visit this night,

Owed their lives to these Sailors, lay willing to fight.

Soon round the world, the children would play,

And grown-ups would celebrate on Christmas Day.

 

They all enjoyed freedom each day of the year,

Because of the Sailor, like the one lying here.

I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone,

On a cold Christmas Eve, on a sea far from home.

 

The very thought brought a tear to my eye,

I dropped to my knees and started to cry.

The Sailor awakened, and I heard a calm voice,

"Santa, don't cry; this life is my choice.

 

"Defending the seas, all days of the year,

So others may live and be free with no fear."

I thought for a moment, what a difficult road,

To live a life guided by honor and code.

 

After all, it's Christmas Eve, and the ship's underway!

But freedom isn't free, and it's Sailors who pay.

The Sailor says to our country, "Be free and sleep tight,

No harm will come, not on my watch and not on this night."

 

The Sailor rolled over and drifted to sleep,

I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.

I kept watch for hours, so silent, so still,

I watched as the Sailor shivered from the night's cold chill.

 

I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark night,

This guardian of honor, so willing to fight.

The Sailor rolled over, and with a voice strong and sure,

Commanded, "Carry on, Santa; it's Christmas, and all is secure!"

 

(Courtesy of "The Goat Locker," http://goatlocker.org)

The Man on the Back Seat--What's Expected of Him?

That's anything but a new question, and based on some situations I've been privy to over the years, has been the source of some very uncomfortable moments for both parties involved. Many choose to lump this question and other similar ones under the heading of "unwritten rules" or "code of ethics."

These "unwritten rules" apply to all boaters, non-boaters, and tournament fishermen alike. They usually aren't included in the rules promulgated by the tournament director, which govern the tournament itself. Rather, it's up to the anglers to become familiar with the generally accepted do's and don'ts.

Not for a single moment do I purport that the following list is all-inclusive, but it should provide a basic understanding of things you, as a non-boater, can and should do to foster a friendly atmosphere with your boater partner come tournament day.

Sharing gas expenses. Generally speaking, you should expect to split the gas bill for both the tow vehicle and the boat 50/50. In some cases, the boater and non-boater agree on an up-front cash settlement. Other times, the boater starts the day with a full tank of gas in both his tow vehicle and boat and then, upon returning home at day's end, pulls in and refills both, at which time each angler simply covers half the bill. The non-boater also would be well-served to pay at least half of the boat-ramp fee.

Amount of tackle a non-boater should bring. This often can depend on the individual boater. Your best bet is to talk to the boater ahead of time and find out how much room he will have available for you, then plan accordingly. When talking to the boater, you'd also be wise to ask what kind of fishing he expects to be doing. And when preparing your tackle, wrap the lures so they don't accidentally hook the boat seats.

Help in launching and recovering the boat. Again, the non-boater involvement often depends on what the boater prefers. He may only want you to hold a rope. Some, though, want you to operate the tow vehicle. If you're not comfortable with backing a boat trailer, let the boater know immediately, so he can find someone else to help. Show that you're well-intentioned by offering to help up front, rather than waiting for the boater to ask you.

Lunchtime. When packing your lunch, strive to keep it simple. Try to avoid messy sandwiches (with mayo, mustard and such), as well as carbonated drinks, because the latter can explode in rough water.

Treat the boat as your own. Before getting in it, wipe off your feet--no boater likes to have mud or sand tracked from one end to the other. If you're fishing weedy areas, make sure you toss all weeds you hook back into the water. Be aware that you're near the motor cowling, and it'll probably carry a mark nearly every time you happen to whack it with a hard bait.

If you accidentally hook a fish deep and cause it to bleed, have the courtesy to unhook it beside the boat so you don't string blood across the seats or carpet. And, at the end of the day, remember to remove all your garbage from the boat.

Here are some other good things for a non-boater to know:

     * Never fish in front of the boater unless he tells you it's OK. There's no quicker way to incur a boater's ire. Instead, concentrate on where the boater's lure hits the water and try to hit different spots.

     * Fish a bait that moves at a speed as fast or faster than the one the boater is throwing. You'll be wasting your time with a worm or other soft plastic if he's throwing a crankbait or spinnerbait. And if he's catching fish and you're not, you're likely better off changing to the same bait or something very similar. (I well-remember a couple of occasions just this past season when my partner said, "I wondered how long it was going to take you to get the message.")

     * Show up with lures already on your rods. If you're not sure what to rig up with, just go with your favorites and be prepared to change as conditions may dictate. First light often is the most productive part of the whole day, so you don't want to be wasting that time tying on lures. The best time to do that is while the boater is running.

     * Read the tournament rules carefully, paying special attention to whether they allow non-boaters to run the trolling motor and/or to fish their choice of water part of the day. If the boater needs to do something like take care of a backlash or change lures, and you have experience running the trolling motor, ask if he'd like you to take over for a few minutes. Just remember that you'll be assuming responsibility for any damage to the boat or trolling motor, so don't offer your service unless you're totally comfortable.

     * Finally, be patient. Get to know your partner early in the day, so you have a feel for whether he seems open to listening to suggestions you may have. Be willing to adapt as necessary and focus on fishing the water where you're at, not the honey hole on the opposite shoreline or farther up the creek.

Communication and mutual respect can go a long way in most situations involving etiquette or the "unwritten rules" of the sport. If you're concerned about violating tournament etiquette, there's a way to test the situation before you act. Simply ask yourself this question: "Would I like for that to be done to me?" You'll have your answer.

Catchin' Reds Is a Blast!!!

So says my friend, Eddie Sapp, who makes it a point to play every bit as hard as he works. He loves spending time on the water, and he's anything but content just to concentrate his skills on one species. If they have fins, swim, and like to feed at least occasionally, there's a better than average chance they'll sooner or later appear on Eddie's radar scope.

And, as I learned just today, these redfish, or puppy drum, as he says they're known around here, are among his latest pursuits. "There are tons of them locally, and they usually are big," he said.

"You fish for them just like bass," Eddie continued. "You flip docks or throw jerkbaits. The only difference is in what happens when a giant red--weighing upwards of 20 lbs.--hits that bait. It's a blast!" he exclaimed.

As you can tell from this photo, Eddie goes after those giant reds with the flats poling skiff he bought this year--the same boat my friend, Skip, photographed for me in the previous post. "It's designed to float extremely shallow--about 3 inches of water--and will plane out in 5 to 6 feet of water," he said.

While the reds really get Eddie's adrenaline to pumping, they share his focus this time of year. He also likes to go pan fishing on the river when it gets really cold.

"The Northwest has been good to me," he said. "I've been catching some big white and yellow perch the last couple of outings, as well as my fair share of bass.

Incidentally, if you're one who enjoys looking at pictures of nice redfish, you're in for a little treat now, 'cause Eddie was kind enough to email me photos of several he's caught the last couple of months. Hope you enjoy them as much as I did.

Fishing Highlights

Congratulations to Sean Vitovich for landing this citation 48-lb. 8-oz rockfish yesterday. This completes his requirements for laying claim to an Expert Angler Award from the State of Virginia.

In the last 365 days, Sean has boated citations in all of the following six different saltwater species: speckled trout, redfish, cobia, blue tile, sea bass, and striper.

In case anyone doesn't already know, Sean is the son of Chris Vitovich and helps his dad put on the annual Steve Gambill Cancer Classic at West Landing Marina.

Eddie Sapp probably is best known locally for his bass fishing prowess, but as I learned a couple weeks ago, he's spending at least part of his time nowadays in pursuit of crappie. And, as a result, he has gone out and gotten himself a second boat, so he can do the job right.

Here's the new craft, as photographed earlier today by my friend, Skip, that Eddie is running around in these days when chasing crappie.

Skip and I shared a good laugh about how long either one of us probably would last standing on this boat's raised platforms. I jokingly told him they'd probably find both of us floating belly-up on the water near an old carp or grindle.

"They're bitin'," was the word I got from Bob Glass when we stopped and chatted for a couple minutes while I was at the marina earlier today. Bob told me he had gotten five in only a couple hours on the water. On one other recent day, he boated a dozen.

In case you're wondering, crankbaits have been Bob's go-to lures during recent trips, and that has been standard fare for nearly everyone I've spoken to in recent weeks. Crankbaits are hard to beat this time of year around here.

I sincerely envy everyone who has been getting out here lately, 'cause Bob is spot on--they really are bitin'. Now that I've got another boat to get set up like I want, though, it's likely to be a spell yet before I get to wet another lure of any kind. My first priority is to get the boat ready, so I'll be able to go come spring.

After Nearly 13 Years...

It's Time to Make a Change

 

 

I will be starting the 2015 fishing season with this 2002 Skeeter SX190, powered by a Yamaha VMAX 150. The boat comes equipped with a Lowrance HDS-7 w/Structure Scan, Lowrance LMS-527C DF IGPS, 24v Minn Kota Maxumm 80-lb.-thrust trolling motor with lift assist, three Optima Blue-Top batteries, two stainless-steel props, 3-bank onboard charger (new in 2013), hot foot, dual live wells, and dual rod lockers. The aluminum EZ Loader trailer is a 2012 model, the hull was completely refinished in 2012 by Rising Sun Yachts, and the seats were re-upholstered in 2014. All these features, when coupled with an excellent maintenance record, a fair price, and the fact I know the previous owner, were just too good to pass up. My good friend, Wayne, checked everything over, then I test drove the rig with former owner, Robert, and took delivery today.

Everything But the Kitchen Sink

Men have been bad-mouthing women for a long, long time about all the stuff they routinely carry in their purses. By the same token, I've had a sneaking suspicion for a while that the vast majority of us bass anglers should step back and take a hard look at everything we lug around in our tackle boxes/bags, as well as what we keep in those storage compartments on our boats, before making such a judgment.

I figured we might find that we're really not all that much different. To cut to the chase, I felt it's entirely possible we both might be guilty of carrying around "everything but the kitchen sink."

My decision to write this story came after I saw a laundry list of what some of the pro bassers routinely stash aboard their rigs. Here's a sampling from that list: first-aid gear, over-the-counter medicines, lip balms and sunscreens, flares/flags/reflectors, tools, electrical and duct tape, WD-40, line and lure conditioner, spare props, jumper cables, extra rainsuits, changes of clothes, polarized sunglasses, and, of course, a roll of toilet paper (in a Ziploc bag for protection from the elements). Some even carry spare trolling motors in the rod locker. And that doesn't even address all those rods, reels and lures.

Having seen this list certainly cleared up a lot of long-standing misconceptions I've had. I always figured I was one of only a few who ever kept medicines onboard their boat during a fishing day. Now, though, I learn that I'm just keeping good company with the majority. Who would have ever thought?

No story like this would be complete without knowing why the parties involved do what they do. When I researched why women cram so much stuff into their purse, I came up with one female writer who suggested the following eight reasons:

     * Women like having things they don't need.

     * They also like having important things at their fingertips.

     * Just in case they need something, it's there.

     * Just in case the just-in-case stuff doesn't work.

     * They're messy and disorganized (e.g., my wife really took some strong exceptions to this particular item).

     * They never know when they'll need to save the world.

     * To fill the space, so it won't look empty.

     * It keeps them sleek and hides flaws (e.g., my wife's response to this one was, "What the heck is she talking about?")

When I looked into why bass anglers carry so much gear in their tackle boxes/bags and their boats, here were some of the typical responses:

     * Just in case we need it.

     * So we're prepared for the unexpected.

     * To keep us on the water, make us efficient, and, hopefully, keep us safe.

     * It's better to have it and not need it, than not to have it and need it.

Don't know about y'all, but I see enough similarities here in these two sets of answers that, from now on, I think I'll probably be a little more hesitant to rush into condemning women for packing so much stuff in their purses. From this perspective, it appears we all share the same bad habit.

Ugggh! Another One of Those Dreadful Off-Seasons Is Here

The off season is a good time to do necessary boat-trailer maintenance, including a check of your fold-away tongue if you have one.

You wanna know what I hate the most about the off-season? It's getting back into the flow of things come spring.

I mean, it's bad enough having to deal with all those "senior moments" that just keep coming my way on a routine basis. But if two or three months pass without my being able to get on the water, I face a real problem remembering some of those things that were in "automatic" mode when I was fishing regularly.

For example, I remember one early spring tournament a couple of years ago when I got to the marina to start rigging my boat and realized I had forgotten my rods. They still were leaning against the workbench in my garage, where I had placed 'em the night before... of all things, so I wouldn't forget them!

The only thing that saved my fanny was the fact I always get to the marina super early on tournament mornings. I jumped in my van and took a back road all the way home. Fortunately, I didn't encounter any cops going home or coming back, or I'd probably still be stinging from the speeding ticket I surely would have gotten.

It was shortly after this incident that I started making a trip to the marina the day before a tourney and rigging my boat then, which has prevented a recurrence of the earlier episode.

There was the one spring, too, when I took my boat to the mechanic for dewinterizing. After just a brief glance around, he wanted to know where my tie-down straps and motor toter were. Fortunately, I had them in my van, so I was able to batten everything down properly for the return trip to the marina.

I'll be the first to admit that remembering everything necessary to ready my trailer for the road is always a challenge for me--far more so than any other evolution. The problem lies in the fact I keep my boat at the marina (and have since 1977), which means I seldom have an occasion to use the straps or motor toter. And it took my tourney partner telling me this past summer I needed to check the tire pressure on my trailer before I finally got around to even doing that. After most days on the water, I simply unload my tackleboxes, rods and any other gear, wipe down the boat, then back it in the shed, hook up the charger, and lock the door.

As the Sgt. Rick Hunter character in the old Hunter TV series used to say two or three times during an episode, "Works for me." However, there's really a whole set of checks you should go through anytime you're planning to take a trailer of any kind on the road, even for a short trip.

Here's a pre-departure safety checklist endorsed by the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration:

     * Check and correct tire pressure on the tow vehicle and trailer.

     * Make sure the wheel lug nuts/bolts on the tow vehicle and trailer are tightened to the correct torque.

     * Be sure the hitch, coupler, safety chains, and other equipment that connect the trailer and tow vehicle are properly secured and adjusted.

     * Check that the wiring is properly connected--not touching the road but loose enough to make turns without disconnecting or damaging the wires.

     * Make sure all running lights, brake lights, turn signals, and hazard lights are working.

     * Verify that the brakes on the tow vehicle and, if applicable, the trailer are operating correctly.

     * Check that all items are securely fastened, including the bow boat strap and safety chain, as well as the transom tie-downs and motor toter.

     * Be sure the trailer jack is completely raised or turned and locked in place.

     * Check side- and rearview mirrors to make sure you have good visibility.

     * Make sure the wheel bearings are greased properly.

Following these tips is a good way to avoid any unwanted surprises en route to your favorite fishing hole in the wee hours of the morning. I think we all can generally agree that the only "good" stop at oh-dark-30 is maybe to pick up a sausage-and-egg biscuit and a cup of coffee at a local fast-food place--right?

The boat trailer in this photo had a wheel bearing seize. When that happened, it ripped off the suspension mounting points, resulting in what you see here.

How Much Noise Is Too Much?

There's probably no fisher person alive today who, if they were lucky enough to have a dad or someone else to take 'em fishin' as a kid, didn't at least once hear this phrase (or words to the same effect): "Hush up, or you'll scare all the fish away." I certainly heard that phrase often enough.

Part of my problem, as is likely true of most kids, was that I didn't have a very long attention span back in those days, especially if the fish weren't bitin'. Couple that admission with the fact I also always had a younger brother to pick on, and you should understand why Dad would have to remind both my brother and me more than once about staying quiet around the water's edge.

More often than not, it wasn't until we both realized we had pushed Pop's tolerance to the limit that we finally would settle down and do as he said. After all, we neither one wanted to risk finding out whether he really had the ability to "pin our ears back behind our heads," as he hinted might happen.

As the years passed, and Pop and I shared many more fishin' trips together, we both derived a lot of laughs from remembering those early days. We'd sit together for hours in a boat, talking as casually as we would in the living room--and catch fish the whole time.

While I came to realize utter silence isn't always necessary to keep from scaring away fish, I still take steps to maintain a certain degree of stealth on the water. I mean, who among us don't routinely kill our gas motor and drop the trolling motor before approaching an area where we intend to start fishing? It's just common sense, right? Well... maybe not so much to some.

I don't think I'll ever get over an incident that occurred during a tournament I fished earlier this year. Early morning found my partner and me back in a super shallow, narrow area of a creek, and we were catching fish. In the distance, we heard another boat approaching, and as luck would have it, the team of fishermen were from our tournament. When they saw us, they quickly killed the gas motor and started fishing a short distance behind us on the trolling motor.

That was OK, but then the duo asked if it would be all right for them to pass us. I gave 'em a green light, figuring they would have the common courtesy to pass on their trolling motor. Instead, though, they fired up the gas motor and idled by us, leaving a muddy trail behind. And when they had gone but a short distance ahead, they proceeded to get the boat on step, and you can imagine what happened to the water then. This area we were fishing is barely 2 feet deep--on its best day--and this wasn't that kind of day.

I couldn't help but simply chalk up the experience as a "lesson learned." If the same situation ever arises again, however, I'll handle it altogether differently.

I understand that, even when using the trolling motor, noise is generated, and it's all too easy to stir up the bottom, both of which can turn off and/or spook fish. That's why many of the pros, according to what I read online, advocate running a trolling motor on a slow, constant speed, rather than using an erratic off/on operation. Some also say you never should put the motor in reverse, instead opting to turn the boat and make a full circle. And last but not least, you'll find these same pros are sticklers for setting their trolling motors as shallow as possible.

After reading their comments, I decided to dig further and see what the recommended way is to choose a trolling motor for your boat. It seems the mind-set among a lot of fishermen is just to "buy the biggest trolling motor you can afford." People in the know, though, will tell you there's a better way.

They advise that, first of all, choosing the proper shaft length is critical. The generally accepted guide is a shaft long enough to keep the propeller submerged in varying water conditions but not so long that it catches the bottom or is a pain in the neck to slow.

Specifically, the experts will tell you to start by measuring the distance from the horizontal mounting point on the bow to the waterline, with the boat in the water. You then should add 20 inches to this measurement, and if you plan to fish a lot of rough water, you also need to add another 5 inches. You want a shaft equal to or greater than that total but never less.

You also need to consider thrust--the measurement in pounds that is needed to move your boat through the water. One school of thought I read about subscribes to the idea that boats need about 5 pounds of thrust for every 200 pounds that they weigh. To determine the thrust requirements for your boat's trolling motor, using that idea, add its estimated weight to its maximum weight capacity and divide by 200. (FYI: I found another school of thought that suggested boats need about 2 pounds of thrust per every 100 pounds of weight.)

Another matter that comes into play is deciding how much power you need in a trolling motor. The choices are 12, 24 or 36 volts. I fished on a 12-volt trolling motor for a lot of years, but once I had moved up to a 24-volt system and realized what I had been missing, I never have looked back. With three batteries in the rear of my 17-foot Skeeter, there's not much extra space, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

And for the "techie" types, there even are trolling motors to satisfy their desires. Some models include digital displays that show water depth and other pertinent information. There also are some self-directional motors that move the boat in a straight line according to wind speed, shorelines and depth contours. You further can find a few with built-in battery gauges that tell you how much power is left in the motor.

So, to answer the question, "How much noise is too much?" I think the answer boils down to what kind of fishing you happen to be doing at the time and what the conditions are on any given day you choose to go. If you're using an up-close technique, such as pitchin' or flippin', or if you're fishing a confined area with high banks, where sounds of any kind are apt to echo, you're likely better off to "keep it zipped." And you always should try to avoid dropping or banging things around in a boat.

If, on the other hand, you're fishing a spot where there's a lot of boat traffic, or where there's considerable wind and wave action, talking likely doesn't pose much, if any, threat to your fishing success.