Gorgeous Day, Nice Boat, and Good Company--What More Could You Ask For?



Anytime the man at the helm of this Ranger asks an old codger like myself to spend a day on the water with him, he doesn't have to ask twice. And so it was no surprise that, when my cellphone rang about 7:30 this morning with an invite from my long-time friend and boat mechanic, Wayne, I quickly gulped down the last of my breakfast, loaded my van, and hit the road for West Neck Marina.

I had planned to go fishing anyway but just figured it would be another day of talking to myself. I pulled up beside the ramp about 8:30 and heard Wayne motoring up the channel to get me. Five or 10 minutes later, we were headed south for Albright's. Before we got on step, though, Wayne let me know he already had caught a couple of stripers just above the West Neck Bridge while waiting for my arrival.

After spending a little while in Albright's, we ran to the Pungo Ferry Bridge, where we've had some luck in previous years. Then, it was on south to Milldam, followed by a visit to Oakum and a return to the Pungo Ferry Bridge. We then hit the grain canal and finished up the day above the bridge in West Neck.

Our efforts yielded a combined total of four stripers and three largemouth on the day--nothing of any size, however. Our bait selections today were spinnerbaits, crankbaits, chatterbaits, and an array of soft plastics. I couldn't say any one bait stood out on the day.

As we were passing what was once the old store at Capt. George's on the way back north today, we passed Jared Allbritten and Al Napier, who were fishing today's tournament out of Bob's Fishing Hole. Jared held up better than a 6-pounder for us, which, as I learned from checking the tourney results on Bob's Guestbook page this evening, helped them win 1st place. We didn't talk to anyone else to find out how they were doing.

All in all, it was a nice day. The only thing that could have made it any better would have been if we had caught a few more fish. Neither one of was complaining, though, when we came off the water about 2:30. Any day on the water is better than sitting home thinking about what might have been.

It Really Boils Down to a Matter of Honor

A few years ago, I had a young fella holding down the back seat of my boat during several Dewey Mullins Memorial Bass Tourneys. His regular partner had been called out of town on business, and he wanted to keep fishing.

Before we ever left the dock the first time, this angler offered some ground rules for our partnership. He said he wasn't going to divulge any of his regular partner's favorite spots and similarly promised he would not share any of mine, either.

I can state without hesitation that he never told me where he and his regular partner used to fish, and I have no reason to think but that he also kept his promise to me. I've never once found him on a spot I showed him, even since he bought his own rig.

Unfortunately, I've had occasions when less honorable fellas shared my spots with a host of their buddies. You know you've been had when you go back to your spot a week or so after taking a buddy there for the first time and find four or five other boats camped out in the area.

The idea for this post came from a recent discussion I had with a friend beside the ramp at West Neck Marina. He explained the way he and a frequent tournament partner handle situations in which they both fish an event but not as partners. They simply have a conversation before the tournament and agree on a plan that keeps them from being at the same place at the same time.

As you might expect, though, there are some folks with other takes on this matter of "private spots" on "public waters." For example, consider this response: "I'm probably in the minority here, but when it comes to tournament fishing..., I'm a believer in first-come, first-served. They make those big 200+ hp motors for a reason. Now that doesn't mean we can't share. As long as you're not crossing my line, I wouldn't care if you fished behind, or even ahead, of me."

According to another angler, "If a boater showed me a brush pile he personally had sunk, and no one else knew about it, I wouldn't fish it. But many of his 'spots' are probably well-known areas and free for the fishing. What are you supposed to do--stay away from every ledge...just because he took you there before?"

Yet another angler had this to say, "I've learned to limit my info to 'how' and 'when' but keep the 'where' to myself... . Let the people figure it out by themselves. When you find somebody on your favorite place, just move and find another one... ."

And finally, there was this perspective: "As one of the 'old guys' in tournaments..., I know how it used to be. There was still courtesy and sportsmanship, and the guys acted like gentlemen. If someone was on a 'hole' or small area, it was honored, no matter what the draw. You never went back to a spot your partner took you to without an invitation, and you never tried to take a spot from a fellow fisherman who'd found it first."

While I'm never protective of my spots when I'm on a fun-fishing day, the same can't be said of a tourney day. Just ask my current tourney partner, Rob.

We were fishing a productive little area during one tourney when a couple of young boys in a johnboat happened along and asked if we were having any luck. I thought Rob was going to choke, trying to contain his laughter, when I nonchalantly responded to the boys' question by saying, "Nope. We haven't caught a thing." My plan worked. The boys were gone in a flash, and we continued on our way, catching fish.

There also was one spring when I was having an unbelievably good tourney day in one of the canals down south on the North Landing. I was circling the canal while flipping soft plastics and catching 2- and 3-pounders nonstop. Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of another boat starting into "my canal." I quickly modified my approach by putting the boat in the middle and flipping to both sides, rather than going up one side and back down the other. That fella likewise got the message and left, much to my delight.

Even my kayaker buddy, Charlie, who shares oodles of info on his blog about different fishing spots has his one "secret" place. He talks about the "how" and "when" from his trips there but withholds the "where."

I know where Charlie's secret spot is, but a stampede of wild horses couldn't drag it out of me. His secret will remain just that because our friendship means far more to me than any fishing hole.

Let's face facts: There's no way anyone can lay claim to a public waterway or any spot in it. However, I would like to think that every tournament angler has enough personal pride and honor to stay away from a hot spot someone else showed them, especially if they know that person is fishing the same event. And never give away someone's secret spot under any circumstances. The Golden Rule is as valid today as when it was first coined.

A Service Member's Thanksgiving Poem

I know we are at war,

But I hear that change is in sight

Instead of friends and family for Thanksgiving

You will chow down with your comrades this fall night.

 

One to the left, the other to the right

Living day to day is a personal sacrifice.

 

You are the heroes whose faces we may never get to see,

But the pride and glory that lives in a service member's heart

Bears these words:

"Integrity," "Semper Fi," "Hooyah."

 

On this day, we give thanks and honor to those

Brave and true

Our banners, we still proudly wave

The Red, White and Blue.

 

We will give our thanks not only to our God

But also to every service member, for our bounties that be.

For they give meaning to the words:

"Home of the brave and Land of the free."

 

To all the service members in the mess hall, galley or canteen

Eating their Thanksgiving feast,

To the Marines, Sailors, Soldiers, Airmen, and Coast Guardsmen

In the desert eating another Meal, Ready-to-Eat.

 

May peace, hope and strength travel with you along the way

And may these wishes find you

On a service member's Thanksgiving Day.

 

(Drafted Nov. 24, 2011, Author Unknown)

My Wish for One and All...

May the good things of life

Be yours in abundance

Not only at Thanksgiving

But throughout the coming year.

An Angler Who Is No Stranger to Winners' Circles

I'm talking about "Red" Bruun, who just wrapped up another dominating season with the Confederate Bassmasters, a Virginia Bass Federation, Region 7, club that has been in existence since Jan. 1, 1974.

A lanky fella, "Red" finished the club's 2015 tournament season by not only winning last Sunday's event held at West Neck Marina but also capturing honors as Angler of the Year (AOY). Another noteworthy achievement this year was his making the Mr. Bass team-tournament competition held March 14-15 on Lake Gaston.

Red's AOY club title this year marks the third time in the last four years that he has claimed this honor. He missed it in 2014, when he finished third in the club rankings. In both 2010 and 2011, he finished second--not bad at all, when you consider the Confederate club maintains a roster of about 20 anglers (give or take a couple), several of which I personally know to also be proven tournament winners.

Sharing the club spotlight with "Red" this year is Chad Johnson, who had the 2015 lunker--a 9.3-lb. beauty that he caught during the July 11th tourney on the Chickahominy River. Chad (pictured here with his 9.3 and one other bass) won that event with a four-fish bag that tipped the scales at 16.8 lbs.

As further testament to his prowess with a "stick" in his hands, "Red" finished in the money at three each of the 2013 and 2014 Dewey Mullins Memorial Bass Tournaments. And this 2015 season, he twice walked away from events in this series with a payday.

To "Red," Chad and the whole gang at Confederate, please let me take this opportunity to congratulate all of you on another successful tourney season. May 2016 prove to be an even more remarkable year for everyone.

Tight Lines!

Chalk Up the Choctaw to Being Genetically Unique

"So, what's the Choctaw?" you may be asking. It's a species of bass, long mistaken for spotted bass, found in coastal rivers along the western Florida panhandle and southern Alabama, among other possible locations.

It was during a 2007 genetic study of other basses in Florida's Chipola River that scientists from the Fish and Wildlife Research Institute first found a DNA profile that didn't belong to any known species. By early 2009, scientists had discovered the same genetic profile in bass populations inhabiting the Choctawhatchee, Yellow, Blackwater, Escambia, Conecuh, and Perdido Rivers. After looking at some earlier scientific work others had done, the scientists came to believe that Choctaw bass likely also could be found in extreme southwest Alabama and southeast Mississippi, just west of the Mobile River Basin, as well as the Pearl River in Mississippi and Louisiana.

Work subsequently got underway to confirm this belief, but it wasn't until 2013, that Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission experts officially could confirm the newest member of Ameica's top freshwater fighting family as being Micropterus haiaka, or Choctaw bass. This name reflects its geographic connection to the indigenous range of the Native American Choctaw tribe. The provisional scientific designation "haiaka" comes from the Choctaw language and means "revealed," or "manifest." Researchers feel that's a fitting label, since they did not set out to discover a new bass species.

Because it's so similar to the spotted bass, the Choctaw is difficult to distinguish with the naked eye. The distinction usually can be made by counting scales, fin rays, and gill rakers, which are comb-like projections inside the gills to prevent particles from collecting on the gill filaments. Foolproof identification, however, requires genetic testing.

The 10th named species of bass and the first one since 2009, the Choctaw bass at full maturity weighs only a few pounds and measures about 14 inches in length. It's typically found in the upper reaches of rivers and streams, where sediment accumulates, avoiding stream headwaters and tidal zones closer to the coast. The Choctaw bass seemingly have staked out their own environments, as researchers have not found any spotted or Alabama bass in the same location.

Since finding this new species, scientists have been working to ensure the population remains healthy by implementing the best possible conservation management practices. Both Florida and Alabama have regulations preventing fish introductions and relocations, which could jeopardize the number of purebred Choctaw bass through interbreeding.

Whether the Choctaw bass has created (or for that matter, ever will create) the stir among anglers predicted in some reports I read about its discovery remains a mystery. As one avid fisherman predicted, "They'll want to catch and release one just to say they've done it." To date, though, my research hasn't revealed a single fisherman bragging about catching a Choctaw bass. Perhaps our angling compadres down south simply see the situation this way: "With all those bigger bass running around our waters, why bother?"

I promise you this: If I ever get lucky enough to take a fishin' trip to Florida, I'm gonna have my sights set on nothing less than one of those unforgettable hawgs--forget the Choctaws.

Getting Back on the Boat After Falling Overboard

Let's face it. That's not such a scary-sounding proposition if it's warm weather, and/or someone else is in the boat with you. But what if it's cold weather, and you're in the boat alone?

Given the fact that many lack the upper-body strength to pull themselves back into the boat, especially with the added weight of all their cold-weather gear, coupled with how rapidly hypothermia sets in (see accompanying chart above), drowning becomes a very real concern. In this situation, a lifejacket becomes critical. A snug-fitting jacket is better than a loose-fitting one in that it insulates your body from the cold water. A flotation coat or coverall is even better because they cover more of your body and help maintain your core body temperature.

Thankfully, though, there are some precautions people who fish solo can take to prepare themselves for such a situation. One suggestion touted by many is to make your way to the boat's stern and stand on the cavitation plate of the outboard while raising it with the trim/tilt button on the motor. Once the motor is raised to its maximum height, it's hoped you'll be able to help yourself onto the rear deck. According to some who have used this method, however, you may end up having to do a belly-flop to complete the operation.

I've also read about an angler who attached a tether cord to his belt and Sospenders--one long enough to allow him to move freely around the boat. He tied off the other end to the boat's boarding ladder.

In a similar vein, Skip shared an idea with me that a fella posted on his Nitro page. This guy trails a 10-inch piece of pool noodle at the end of a 20-foot length of one-quarter-inch nylon rope behind his boat as it drifts.

According to that post, "If you should fall in, you will have that extra length to swim for and can pull yourself back to the boat. Once there, either use your boarding ladder..." or follow the earlier suggestion of standing on the lower unit's cavitation plate and using the trim/tilt switch on the outboard to lift yourself aboard.

The Skeeter SX-190 that I bought last December has an emergency exit boarding ladder, or E-Ladder, (similar to the one pictured at left) as it's more commonly known. This ladder mounts directly to a jack plate or engine bracket.

A spring-loaded pin easily releases the ladder to climbing level. An automatic locking pin allows you to securely raise the ladder back to its stowed position for travel. The only obstacle I know of with installing this ladder is if your boat has dual anchoring poles.

Whether you use one of these methods, or something of your own choosing, the important thing is to have your plan in place each and every time you hit the water in cold weather.

The Early Bird Doesn't Get the Worm This Time of Year

Unlike those hazy, lazy, crazy days of summer, when the earlier you could get on the water, the better, this time of year is a whole different ballgame. I was on the water at 9 o'clock this morning, but if I hadn't gotten there until 1 p.m., and had been able to fish until about 4 p.m., it would have been hunky-dory.

As it was, though, I needed to get off the water at 2:30, or face the reality that I would have to put my boat away after dark, and that idea just didn't strike my fancy.

My lone fish for the day was this 1-3 that I caught about 2 o'clock on a chatterbait. However, I had missed two other strikes between 1 and 2 o'clock on the same bait. I had been fishing the chatterbait as a jig, and in both cases of those missed strikes, the fish picked up the bait and started swimming off with it. My problem the first time was that I simply thought I was moving the bait along a submerged log. It wasn't until I finally saw a telltale swirl in the water that I realized what really had been happening. In the second case, I just waited a tad too long to set the hook.

As I came alongside the catwalk this afternoon, I got into a conversation with a young kayaker who told me he has been fishing several mid- to late-afternoons in recent days and doing well on bass. He said you even can see the fish breaking on top. All you have to do is cast to the spot and be patient.

Now if you're looking for white perch, the rules are altogether different. I talked to a fella first thing this morning whom I had watched just making a wide circle in the vicinity of the point leading into the first major cove on the right, above the bridge. We swapped pleasantries as I moved past him to fish a ways inside the cove, and he told me he already had filled a cooler with some nice sized white perch, and I saw him catch several more as I passed him. I couldn't see what bait he was throwing, but it appeared to be some kind of silver colored artificial.

I later came across another fella fishing live bait under a bobber for white perch, and he told me he only had picked up about a half dozen or so.

The water color both above and below the West Neck Bridge today was pretty. I fished a variety of crankbaits, a wakebait, and the chatterbait, but only saw action on the latter. Reckon all I have to do now is to try and convince myself to fish a little later if I want to catch a few more fish. Maybe that'll happen; maybe it won't. Probably won't have to make that decision until maybe sometime next week, because the rest of this one--weather-wise--isn't looking too good to me.

A Disaster Waiting to Happen Because of Overpowered Bass Boats



That's how a Hampton Roads sports writer characterized the Chickahominy River back in a 1993 article.

He based that opinion, in part, on all the twists and turns the river takes through the lowlands of Charles City and James City Counties to a point west of Williamsburg, where it empties into the James River. He also cited the myriad twisting and turning creeks that feed into the Chickahominy (see aerial photo above), along with their countless blind turns.

"Every weekend...until cold weather (arrives) brings a bass-fishing tournament to the Chickahominy," said the sports writer. "Competitors roar down the narrow, twisting creeks and channels, their bass boats skimming and skittering over the surface. They roar through the blind turns, even though they have no idea what lies ahead. They are bass fishing--like it's done on TV. Get out of the way."

The writer went on to describe an incident he and a friend had experienced on the Chick the previous summer. That particular day, the water traffic included small john boats, family runabouts, boats pulling water skiers, canoes, and conventional deep-hull boats.

"Every now and then, we would hear the whine of a bass boat running at full throttle," he explained. "When entering the main river from one of the feeder streams, we learned to wait and listen. If we didn't hear that telltale whine, we would proceed. We learned to do that because one bass boat zipped by very close to us--too close.

"People who live along the Chickahominy have complained for years," the writer continued. "These residents don't want the people to stop fishing; they just want them to slow down. When you're running a boat at a high rate of speed, you have no reaction time. If there's something in the water, you're going to hit it about the same time you see it. Nor do boats have brakes; they cannot be stopped, or even slowed, quickly. People who live along the Chickahominy have seen the near-misses."

There's no denying this part of the writer's claim. For example, a boat traveling 60 mph covers 88 feet in a second--over a hundred yards in four seconds. So anytime you can't see several hundred yards ahead of the boat, particularly on a busy body of water, you're at serious risk of a collision, or possibly an "allision." That latter term is used by the Coast Guard to describe accidents in which a moving boat strikes a stationary boat or object.

The sports writer concluded his piece by advocating that tournament organizers consider a lottery format. In this format, competitors would draw for fishing sites before the tournament started, thus eliminating the race that occurs most of the time. He also suggested a penalty system to ensure safe boating, which would erase the mad dash to weigh-ins.

Running high-powered bass boats indeed is not a matter to be taken lightly. However, I think most would take exception to the idea that these boats "are not safe at any speed," as the sports writer expressed.

As some tournament pros see it, the problem isn't with the high-powered platforms that quickly take them from Point A to Point B during their 8-hour events. It's the experience level of the young people they find operating many of the same kind of high-powered boats today.

"It's funny that you have to take a driver's test to get behind the wheel of a car, but you can get into Dad's boat and run it 70-plus mph with absolutely no training at all," they say. "These boats have no mercy, and even the most seasoned operator can get in trouble if we let our guard down." (NOTE: In 2007, the Virginia General Assembly enacted a law to establish a boating-safety-education-compliance requirement to be phased in over future years. By 2016, all operators of personal watercraft and motorboats with a 10-hp or greater motor will be required to have completed this course.)

There may be no better feeling than skating across a lake at 75 or 80 mph, but safety must be the first consideration. Take it slow and build up your confidence level. Don't make your first trip your last. Here are some rules designed to help you achieve that goal:

     * Never leave the ramp without visibility of at least 200 yards.

     * Remember: GPS is not radar; it shows shoreline and navigation marks but not other boats.

     * Don't be distracted by your electronics while you're running; tweaking the sonar or GPS or taking a cellphone call while on plane is very risky.

     * Never start the engine without your PFD on and your safety lanyard attached.

     * If your bow seat obstructs your vision, take it down every time you go on plane.

     * If you can't be sure of the intentions of an approaching boat, slow down and give way.

     * Anytime visibility is minimal as a result of fog or rain, turn on your running lights--even during the day. This goes for even when you're stopped and fishing.

     * Never make a turn without looking behind you for overtaking boats.

     * Never approach another boat at high speed from behind or head-to-head at close quarters where you can't evade him if he makes a sudden turn.

     * Remember that you lose forward vision in most bass rigs until the boat comes out of the hole; be especially vigilant on take-off.

     * It's both illegal and stupid to operate a high-speed boat under the influence of drugs or alcohol.

     * Make sure everybody stays seated anytime the boat is on plane.

     * Keep a sharp eye out for tug, barge and yacht wakes; they can put a 60-mph boat airborne.

     * Slow down around bridges and restricted channels where boat traffic is heavy.

     * Encourage your boat partners to help keep watch for approaching traffic.

     * Though your boat has no brakes, you can use the trim control to quickly slow it down. Lower the lower unit all the way as you cut power, and the boat will quickly come to a stop.

In short, caution and persistent vigilance are as much a part of modern bass fishing as low-profile baitcasting reels and fluorocarbon line. Keep a sharp eye every time you leave the ramp, and avoid becoming one of those sad statistics.

I feel certain some of my readers--I personally know of two--have had their own encounters with the Chick. If any of you would like to step forward and share your accounts for a follow-up to this story, I'd welcome them. You would have the option to remain anonymous if you so desired. The facts about what happened are what's important--victims' names, not so much, unless you want readers to know. If you're interested, just email the facts to me, and I'll take it from there. You'll get to review and accept/reject anything BEFORE it is published. That's my promise.

There's Only One Way to Go From Here

That was my thought when this wee bass became the first fish I put in the boat today. It's truly not a figment of your imagination if you're saying, "The lure is bigger than the fish."

I was in a state of disbelief to see this tiny bass dangling from the hooks of a 9/16-oz. wakebait. When he hit, it felt like the bait's hooks had fouled the line. As a result, I kept popping the line all the way to the boat, trying to get the lure to run true. It wasn't until I lifted the lure out of the water that I realized what really had happened.

At this point, I didn't have any warm and fuzzies about how the rest of my day likely would go. That feeling didn't get much better when, an hour or so later, I boated another bass weighing only 12 ozs., again on the same wakebait. Nevertheless, I looked at it as an improvement and kept pounding the shoreline.

A good while passed until I finally caught this respectable bass, which weighed in at 1-8. By this time, I had shifted to a white chatterbait, and, after wearing out all four sides of a big stump with it, I was almost ready to move on when I decided to make a cast about 15 feet to the right of the stump. This fish smacked the chatterbait as soon as it hit the water.

I had no more action until about 1:45, when I managed to boat one last bass that would have measured about 8 or 9 inches. In another 15 minutes, I had decided to call it a day and was heading to the ramp.

On a day when the action appeared to be slow for everyone, I couldn't really complain, especially when I learned that my friend, Charlie, had only put 3 in the boat. He also told me that three or four more anglers had shared the fact they, too, had caught the same number.

The water temp when I started this morning was a tad less than 58. It had warmed to about 65 by the time I quit. As for water quality, it ranged from downright muddy in places to excellent in others--mostly in the coves.

There were several folks who had come out to play by the time I finished today. When I launched this morning, though, there were only three other trailers in the parking lot. Guess some had waited for the sun to warm things up a bit.

"He Always Outfishes Me"

That was the bottom line in Ron's latest email I received. He was describing the fact his son, Alex, invariably leaves him playing "second fiddle" during their fishing trips.

In this instance, Ron described events during a two-week trip home in October 2013, from his year-and-a-half contractor job in Afghanistan, where he was training Afghans in IED defeat. "I had to look the part," he said, in explaining his heavy beard in the accompanying photo, which depicts him holding a 46-inch red drum he caught during the trip home.

The father and son team were fishing from Sandbridge Pier. According to Ron, "All the regulars had left"--no surprise, since there was no bite and the conditions were poor. "With my time home running out, though," he continued, "we stayed put."

Suddenly, there was a telltale drag scream coming from the rod belonging to Alex. He grabbed it and set the hook. Meanwhile, a lady with what appeared to be a high-end camera started clicking away and didn't stop until Ron and Alex had netted, measured and released the fish some 10 or 15 minutes later.

Ron later was talking to the woman and learned that she and her husband were visiting the area from Richmond. He gave her his email address so she could send them the pictures.

Ultimately, however, this couple shared their story with Tee Clarkson, a friend of theirs who writes for the Richmond Times-Dispatch. Clarkson followed up by contacting Ron, saying he wanted to do a write-up for the newspaper. Here's the link to that story: http://www.richmond.com/outdoors/article_6797d18f-ea8e-5590-8a1d-b60eda735654.html.

It was the last day of Ron's time at home when Alex once again showed his dad how to catch the big one (see photo above). Said Ron, "His fish (also a red drum) was at least 10 lbs. heavier."

Bass Breaks More Than a Boy's Rod

It also broke his heart. You see, the bass in question was big--and, believe me, this boy, Alex, knows "big," because he's already boated one that weighed 6-3 (the one he's holding in this photo), as well as one better than 4 and another better than 5.

The setting for this broken-rod episode was the first cove on the left after the West Neck Creek Bridge this past Friday evening. The water was high, and the bite was low. The only thing working was spinnerbaits. Ron and his son were fishing out of their kayaks when the boy suddenly hooked what he described as "his largest bass ever."

"It took a last dive, and when my son's pole (a Berkley baitcasting rod) hit the side of the kayak, it broke," said Ron. "Lost the fish. Poor kid was heartbroken, and I'm out $80."

Ron (pictured here with a 4-3 "personal best" bass that he caught July 16, 2015) and his teenage son have had their kayaks since last fall and love to fish, as evidenced by the fact they routinely wet a line on an average of 5 or 6 days a week.

As Ron explained, "Last fall, we tore up the inlets, chasing specks and puppy drum. This past summer, then, was freshwater intensive. Alex frequently nips over to Courthouse Estates retention ponds after school, too, where he seems to have good luck.

"We're still novices, just trying to figure it all out," added Ron. However, very few novices can claim the kind of success this dad and son have had. Young Alex, for example, already has scored multiple citations, starting with one for a 22-inch bass he caught in Blackwater Creek.

In describing that occasion, Ron said, "I was having a good day, with a small bass and a bowfin. Alex, meanwhile, was looking at a skunk. Then about 1200, while throwing a jig and pig to the base of a cypress tree, on our way back to Blackwater Trading Post, he landed the ugliest bass ever."

It was during a trip to Tecumseh a few months ago that Alex caught a 28-inch citation chain pickerel (the one in this photo). On the very next cast after getting that fish unhooked, he caught a 25-inch citation pickerel--"and here I have yet to break the 24-inch mark on a pickerel," noted Ron, adding, "I had one yesterday that was 23.5 inches."

And the citations don't end there, either. It seems that Alex also has picked up a few red drum citations while fishing from Sandbridge Pier, the same place where he landed two cobia on an otherwise uneventful morning. One of those fish measured 50 inches but fell shy of a citation by 5 lbs. Said Ron, "My biggest cobia wasn't even a keeper!"

This past summer found Ron and Alex getting a case of gar and bowfin fever. They landed some nice ones but want to figure out how to target the big boys. Alex, meanwhile, has acquired a taste for crappie, "so we're now trying to figure them out, as well," Ron added.

Thus far, the upper North Landing has been good to Ron and Alex. When launching from West Neck, though, they haven't done so well.

Ron sums up the situation this way: "We wouldn't have had as much success if not for following Charlie's blog. We try all the places he posts about, as well as the methods he uses. We would be lost without his guidance, and I am grateful for it."

There couldn't be a more fitting tribute for a guy whom I'm privileged to know and happy to call "friend."

A Word to the Wise Shopper

Over the years, especially the last 5 to 10, I've bought a considerable amount of fishing tackle. Lures have comprised many of those purchases, and in most cases, I didn't seal the deal until I had compared prices among two or three different retail outlets.

The few times I failed to do comparisons can be attributed to one or both of a couple of factors. I either was in a hurry for the baits, or I knew for a fact the advertised price was right.

That background brings me to the point this past Wednesday when I ordered some baits from Tackle Warehouse (TW). I didn't do a comparison because I knew their price--$8.99 each--was reasonable. How did I know? Because of my previous dealings with TW. They just don't jerk around their customers. If anything, they bend over backward to ensure their customers are happy.

Today, however, while I was doing some unrelated research on the Internet, I stopped at the Oceans East 2 website, whereupon I checked their price for the same lures I ordered Wednesday from TW. It turns out they ask $19.95 each, which, for lack of a better way of putting it, simply amounts to nothing short of highway robbery. Consider, too, that the identical lures at Bass Pro Shops retail for $9.99 each.

The fact that Oceans East 2 inflates many of their prices is common knowledge among locals. However, the markups don't always mirror what I found today, or they never would have received the small amount of business I've given them to date.

Don't get me wrong. I have, on a few occasions, paid more than $20 for a lure, but everyone's asking price at the time was in the same ballpark.

My intent here is just to serve notice to fellow local anglers that you need to weigh the prices at Oceans East 2 against at least one other outlet before completing a purchase there. Otherwise, you may lose your proverbial shirt.

Just a Thought--Take It or Leave It

Don't know how boatowners in general feel, but I, personally, really hate dragging any more grit and grime into my bass boat than absolutely necessary. The last thing I want to see when turning around and looking where I first stepped onto the boat is a footprint across my carpet. That's why I always slosh water around the soles of my shoes at the ramp before climbing aboard at the start of any given day's fishing trip.

Sure, maybe I look like a little kid playing in the water by following such a regimen, but at least I avoid having some of that ground-in stuff throughout all the carpeting like I see in other folks' boats.

What are you supposed to do, though, at the end of the day, after you've climbed off the boat, then suddenly find that you have to reembark? That's been happening to me a lot since I got this other Skeeter last December.

You see, I usually keep all my tackle for each trip on this boat in the forward, center storage compartment--a luxury I didn't have with the SX-170. When I remember, I will remove all my gear from that compartment before getting off the boat, but more times than not, I forget.

Until now, I've been addressing this problem by removing my shoes and going back aboard in my sock feet. Then, the other day, during a rare moment of clarity, I remembered that most home repairmen and service folks today wear either disposable or reusable shoe guards when they're in your house.

As my wife was heading to Walmart the other evening, I asked her to look and see if they had any of those shoe guards, and sure 'nuff, they did. So now those days of having to remove my shoes before reembarking are long gone.

Don't get me wrong. I know a certain amount of debris still will collect in the boat, so I'll still have to run a shop vac from time to time, but maybe not quite as often.

And if you're interested in knowing how to do a "thorough cleaning" of your boat carpet, here's the link to a website that provides all the details: http://www.flwfishing.com/tips/2013-12-02-boat-care-101-simple-do-it-yourself-carpet-cleaning.

Or, perhaps you'd rather pay someone else to do the dirty work for you. I know for a fact that Stanley Steemer is more than happy to oblige. For a free quote, call 1-800-STEEMER/1-800-783-3637.

Finally--A Day on the Water

Back in 1947, Tex Williams recorded a chart-topper entitled "Smoke! Smoke! Smoke! (That Cigarette)." Some of the lyrics to that Western swing novelty tune are as follows:

Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette

Puff, puff, puff, and if you smoke yourself to death

Tell St. Peter at the Golden Gate

That you hate to make him wait

But you just gotta have another cigarette.

My fishin' buddy, Jim Bauer, doesn't smoke, but he does fish, and I'm here to tell you that he has been going through a form of withdrawal akin to a man who hasn't been able to wet a line for a good spell now. In his case, Oct. 17th marks the last time he was on the water. His symptoms have gotten so bad it's rumored that he's been begging mutual friend, Skip Schaible, to give him some of his "fishing pills" (see accompanying photo of the bottle).

OK, so maybe that was a feeble attempt to instill a little humor into this piece, but after all, laughter is the best medicine, no matter what ails you.

To get back to reality, I'm happy to report that Jim finally made it onto the water today--without taking any pills or ever reaching the point where he was choking anyone. How do I know this? Because I received an email from him this evening, with a fishing report included.

He hit the water about 10 o'clock this morning, when the water temp read 67 degrees. It had bumped up to 69 when he came off the water about 2:30.

In those 4.5 hours, Jim caught two fish: a largemouth (pictured right) that weighed a pound even and a striper that weighed 1-11. He found the largemouth below the bridge with a wakebait. Said Jim, "He smacked it when it hit the water and went tail-walking and jumping just like a big 'un." The striper, meanwhile, hit a Thin N crankbait above the bridge.

It turns out Jim had lots of company today, mostly in the form of water skiers. Can't say I'm surprised at that, given the warmer temperatures we've been having around here. He also ran across Bob Glass today, as well as Ray Scott and a couple of live-bait fishermen he didn't recognize. Ray told Jim he had caught some panfish.



It would seem that today's trip to West Neck may be signaling that Jim would like to have a little more of the same. As he noted in this evening's email, "Might try it again tomorrow." So, I'll keep watching to see if another fishing report shows up in my email then. He said the report very well may come from Scope, where he'll be attending an Admirals hockey game. As a season ticket-holder, he never misses one of those.


Here's the striper Jim boated today.

We Both Were Throwing Wakebaits, But...

With vastly different results. He was catching bass after bass, while I was scratching out one here and one there. The "he" in this scenario is none other than my kayaker buddy, Charlie.

What can I say but that it's almost like his hands have magic in them when he's holding a fishing rod. I'm here to tell you that, anytime you're in the mood to have one of the nicest guys I've ever known put on a bass-fishing clinic from the backseat of your boat, just give Charlie a call. You won't regret doing so--that much I promise you.

I met Charlie at the West Neck ramp about 7:30 this morning, and we were fishing about 15 minutes later. Fortunately, both of us made sure we had our rain gear in the boat. Off and on for a good spell this morning, we encountered light showers. They were light enough that all we ever needed were the tops. Just to be on the safe side, both of us left the tops on throughout the day, but they both were bone-dry when we returned to the launch ramp around 2:30 this afternoon.

With that explanation out of the way, let me just say that Charlie--to put it very bluntly--kicked my butt all day long. He masterfully put 13 bass in the boat, with the biggest being the 2-2 he's holding in the accompanying photo. Nearly all his other fish, if we had taken time to weigh them, would have run around 1.0 or 1.5 pounds. Besides all the bass, he also caught three or four white perch, as well as one yellow perch.

When I earlier said I was scratching out "one here and one there," I really wasn't joking. I in fact boated a total of 2 bass on the day's efforts. The first, somewhere around a 1-pounder, came fairly early this morning. The last occurred about 12 noon or maybe a little later. It weighed in at 2-9 (see photo at left), which prompted Charlie to remark, "You did it to me again."

That remark, of course, referred to our head-to-head challenge we had a year or two ago, in which Charlie crushed me with his day's totals, while I waited until the 11th hour to boat the biggest fish of the day. As I said in an earlier post, though, there was no "competition" involved in today's trip, so we just had a good chuckle in seeing the results turn out so similar to what happened on that earlier occasion.

And just for the record, let it reflect that once again, as on that same earlier occasion, I came home and promptly placed an order for the same bait Charlie used to beat me into submission today. Of course, if his success indeed is, in any way, tied to some kind of magic he possesses in his hands, I don't think I need to tell you that my efforts undoubtedly will prove to have been in vain. Nevertheless, I shall give it the old college try.

Just When I Thought I Had Seen and Heard Everything

I've heard of the golden rule...a golden moment...the golden age...and even the golden hour. I've also heard that "silence is golden," I've crossed--both over and under--the Golden Gate Bridge a few times, and I've heard the story about "the goose that laid the golden egg." But never, until today, had I heard (or seen) anything about a golden bass like you see here.

My newfound discovery occurred while I was digging around the Internet, looking for material of any kind I might be able to turn into another blog post.

So what causes this rare condition, known as "xanthism"? As explained by Dr. Robert Montgomerie, a biology professor at Queen's University in Kingston, Ontario, "Normal fish scales on bass receive incoming white light, and molecular structures convert that light to blue or yellow, which makes the fish look green. In the yellow bass, it is likely that some spontaneous mutation occurs that prevents the scales from making the proper molecular structures to convert white light to blue.

"Without those structures, the fish looks gold, rather than green. It's not that the bass has gained a yellow pigment, but rather, it has lost the ability to produce the blue colors that make its scales green," he concluded.

What are your chances of seeing one of these rare golden beauties? Evidently, not very good. For instance, workers at the Florida Wildlife Conservation Commission (FWC) reported that, after sampling more than 255,000 largemouth bass from 175 different bodies of water in a 10-year period, they've yet to see one example of this genetic phenomenon.

And Gene Gilliland, B.A.S.S. conservation director and long-time fisheries biologist in Oklahoma, was quoted as saying, "In thousands of hours of electrofishing, I never saw one (of these fish) in the wild. You shouldn't expect to see one, either."

The only problem, though, is that there have been several reports of these unusual catches this year--everywhere from California to Florida, to Kentucky, to Nebraska, and even to Canada, where the photo at right (http://www.quintefishing.com/qfs.htm) was taken during a Quinte Fishing Series bass tournament.

Angler Markus Bardy made the rare catch near Belleville, in the Bay of Quinte on Lake Ontario, while fishing with his partner, Casey Kimmerly, according to tournament weighmaster Brad Pound. This golden largemouth weighed 3 lbs. and helped the duo win the tournament with a total of 35.94 lbs.

Nevertheless, experts collectively chalk all these sightings up to "nothing more than a remarkable coincidence." Their contention is that if you spend time in the outdoors, on the water, in the field, or in the woods, you have to marvel at the variety you can experience in nature.

"Sure, there are patterns, tendencies, habits, and cycles," they say, "but if you spend anytime at all 'out there,' you will encounter something from time to time that you never have seen or experienced before. And that is one thing that keeps us coming back, again and again."

I can't argue with that logic.

Bet He Didn't Have Much Company Today

Heard from my friend, "Doc" Murdock, this afternoon, telling me that he had been out to West Neck today and found a few fish. It appears his outing mirrored the one I had just this past Thursday.

His catch today weighed in at 1.2 (the fish at right, I think), 1.0 and 0.14. The baits used were a crankbait and a swimjig. "Doc" told me he also lost a couple fish today.

Also had an email from my kayaker buddy last evening. It seems Charlie would like a break from all the paddling he's been doing here lately. He asked if it would be OK for him to hold down the backseat on my Skeeter for a future trip.

I plan to take a look at the weather forecast for this next week and see if we can come up with a mutually agreeable date to wet a line together. There won't be any competition this time around. It's just a matter of a couple guys planning a fun day on the water. Stay tuned for the results.

Remembering Another Long-Time West Neck Fixture

Anyone whose patronage of West Neck Marina dates back to at least the 1970s, and perhaps earlier (I'm just not sure), undoubtedly remembers Jim Hardy, the man pictured here with a nice largemouth. Unfortunately, I was saddened this morning to read in The Virginian-Pilot obituaries where Jim left us this past Thursday, Oct. 29th.

Born June 4, 1940, Jim and his late-brother, Ray, spent many a day during their lives fishing out of West Neck. Likewise, both men and their families were usually on hand for the annual marina cookouts thrown by former owners Bill and Veradell Brown.

The one thing I remember most about Jim was that he frequently fished with his father-in-law at the time, who videotaped each and every one of their trips on the water.

I particularly recall one early morning when I happened to be waiting to launch behind that duo. Jim had launched his boat, tied it off at the dock, and was parking his vehicle as I made sure my boat was ready to go in the water. I suddenly became acutely aware that someone nearby either was talking to himself or was doing a monolog. I paused and looked toward the ramp, where I found Jim's father-in-law busy recording the intro for that particular day's fishing trip. He was including the date, general weather conditions, water temp--all the things one would expect to find in a standard fishing trip report.


A younger Jim (left), with his late-brother, Ray.

I can't help but wonder now whatever has happened to all those videotapes. It's times like this that memories become ever so precious, and I would think all those videotapes could provide a huge amount of solace to loved ones left behind. Jim's survivors include his wife, Mary Jane; his sons, Jimmy Hardy, Jr., Sean Hardy, and Kevin Hardy; daughters, Stephannee Jones and Anje Laufer; and his grandson, Joshua Nunez.

When Jim wasn't fishing, he most often could be found driving one of those brown delivery trucks you see around town. He retired from UPS with 25 years of service.

According to the obituary in the morning newspaper, a funeral mass will be offered on Tuesday, Nov. 3rd, at 6:15 p.m., at Holy Spirit Catholic Church, 1396 Lynnhaven Pkwy., Virginia Beach. The family will receive friends from 5 to 6 p.m. You're invited to share a memory at www.familychoicefunerals.com.