Celebrating New Year's--Submarine Style

"Never Give In, Battle Cry:

Take her fast,

Take her deep,

Take her where the fishes sleep...

Damn the depth,

Damn the pressure,

Take her down just like the Thresher..."

That memorable quote (author unknown) from a USS Olympia (SSN-717) book of poems gives you some idea of the proud heritage shared by all those Navy men and women who wear Dolphins on their chest.

In recognition of all past, present and future submariners, or "bubbleheads," as they sometimes are known, I'm posting a couple of old New Year's Eve deck logs written by those who often sail deep into dark and always dangerous waters. This first midwatch log entry is from USS Requin (SS-481) (pictured above). It was drafted Jan. 1, 1961.

Now listen my mateys and you shall hear,

Of the good ship Requin and her crew of good cheer,

Moored starboard side to, all snug in the nest,

Of three submarines in a straight line abreast.

Her lines are all doubled, she's inboard too,

At berth two twenty-three, pier twenty-two.

Weather has changed, wind is now quite a blast,

Cloud coverage has changed to complete overcast.

ComSecondFleet on the CAC One,

That by the way being the Northampton,

Who's only one of a few left in her class,

Is SOPA now as has been in the past.

Duty section, poor souls, are all standing by,

To welcome the new year with a magnificent try,

Of sounding the ship's whistle at twenty four hundred,

With a force that will carry as when Thor thundered.

It's an old fleet custom when a new year is born,

To welcome it loudly with every available horn.

The time has arrived; the racket has started,

And many an eardrum shall soon be parted.

It's now twenty four hundred, plus five,

And the fleet that moments ago was alive,

Has died and returned to its well-earned sleep,

And left the watch for the "mid" to keep.

Here's to all you fine people out soaking up cheer.

You should have been with us, it was a hell of a "new year."

Credit must be given where credit is due,

The foregoing was composed by just we two,

The quarterdeck watch and the CDO,

Seaman Armstrong and Lieutenant Schilling,

Who are heading below...

Moored as before.

And following is the Jan. 1, 2000 midnight deck-log entry from USS Topeka (SSN-754) (pictured above), as penned by ET1 Keightley:

Here's to remembrance on this New Year's Day,

And here's to the Sailors who showed us the way;

Here's to old-timers on decks made of wood,

They forged our traditions the best that they could.

Here's to the diesel boats that snorkeled at night,

They proved that America was ready to fight;

Here's to past shipmates wherever they are,

May we never forget them regardless how far.

We still sound a Klaxon as loud as can be,

Each time that we dive deep into the sea;

We're here all wearing Dolphins,

Except for a few.

A new century is here, goodbye to the past,

We're the first to have seen it, and we'll be the last;

Such is life on our ship that we call a boat,

We're not like the others, we don't always float.

If you've never worn Dolphins, you probably missed out,

My shipmates are brothers, I haven't a doubt;

So stay on the shore where it's safer you see,

And leave this hard life for my brothers and me.

Wherever there's trouble in some distant land,

You can bet that Topeka will be close at hand;

The reactor is critical, our torpedos are ready,

The helmsman's on course and keeping it steady.

Today we can celebrate on this New Year's Day,

But tomorrow may find us turning into harm's way;

So here's to the crew, both present and past,

That keep these subs going and getting there fast.

Here's to the good times; there's always too few,

Here's to us all that wear Navy blue.

In closing, I would like to leave everyone with this: Wishing all of you beautiful moments, treasured memories, and all the blessings a heart can know. Stay safe, and have a Happy New Year!

A 4.7:1 Baitcaster Is Hard To Beat This Time of Year

I've been using this Pinnacle model with all my crankbaits since the water got cold, and I swear by it. Combined with keeping your rod tip tilted up, a slow retrieve with this reel usually keeps your square-bill crankbaits moving along with only occasional hangups.

This reel, combined with a BPS medium-light crankin' stick and a Bill Norman Thin N, accounted for three bass and one white perch today. My other rig, consisting of a Lew's reel, a St. Croix medium crankin' stick, and a Rapala Shadow Rap Shad put one bass in the boat.

The bass today included an 8-incher, 12.5-incher, a 1-5, and the 1-8 pictured at right. I once again was fishing the same stretch of West Neck that has been working for me throughout this late season. And as has been the case most of the time here lately, I had the place all to myself.

With yesterday's temps as warm as they were, water temps were hovering in the mid-40s when I launched about 10 o'clock this morning. They were reading in the upper 40s when I quit about 2:15.

Can't say when I'll get out again. It all depends on the weather. My goal is to log my 300th bass this season before I have to lock down for the winter. I'm still six fish away from that mark, which, given the current trend, likely will require a couple more trips. Whether I make it or not, I'll be content, because I've already eclipsed my totals each of the past two years by a hundred fish.

I had a note from Ron already when I got home this afternoon. He fished Tecumseh this afternoon. "'Twas a bit breezy and cool," he said, "but not too bad."

Rob launched about 2:30 p.m. and didn't find a bite until about 4 p.m. He started with a few very small chain pickerel and a few dink bass (pictured at bottom). By sunset, he had caught a nice 12-inch crappie (left, along with the crappie Ron's buddy gave him) and a 21-inch chain pickerel.

A buddy ended the day with a 16- and an 18-inch bass, as well as two nice crappie that he sent Ron's way for a taco dinner. The 18-incher hit a beetlespin slow-trolled just under a bobber. He noticed his trolled bobber cruise alongside his yak and then proceed ahead of it before he realized it was being pulled along by the bass.

Once more, Ron's successful bait was his XTS Minnow. He didn't even try another bait today. He worked the bait slowly, just below the surface.

"Next time, I'm going to try a Shadow Rap shallow," he said. He noted, however, that they tend to run a bit deeper and are snag magnets.

The Bite Was ON!!!

That's how Ron started his latest email to me. And while he was chasing bass yesterday, Charlie, on the other hand, was out photographing hundreds of snow geese (see photo at right).

Ron started yesterday's exploits with a 0200 trip to the HRBT. Between then and 0430, he caught three stripers, which all were short by a hair. Adding to the annoyance was, as Ron described it, was "some kind of weed/grass floating around" that kept hanging up his lure. "Very frustrating reeling in clump after clump of the stuff," he said.

Not satisfied with the way his morning turned out, Ron went home and took a nap, then headed to Albright's, where he fished from 1200 until 1700. "The river gauge read 1.35, and the water was crystal clear, with no wind," as he described the conditions. "Nice temperature to be out."

At the end of the day in Albright's, he had caught six bass, nothing over 13 inches (one of 'em is pictured at left), and lost a couple on the XTS Minnow. He also lost a nice big chain pickerel alongside the yak.

Meanwhile, a friend with Ron was using the exact same set up (casting an XTS and trolling a beetlespin) and caught 16 bass (two 16-inchers, two 14-inchers, and a bunch of dinks). He also managed two crappie, two white perch, and a nice chain pickerel.

Said Ron, "He was working the 'inside,' and I was working the 'outside' in the back of Albright's. Most of the bites were on points or at feeder-creek entrances."

Ron finished his email by saying he had plans to take off a half-day today and go again, using a fluke this time. "'Twas so nice to be out just relaxing, not all bundled up, no headlamp, no gloves, and not fighting current and chop," he noted. "I have been missing the fresh water and look forward to hitting it hard in 2017."

I had planned to hit the water yesterday, too, but a cluster headache, accompanied by nausea, from the night before, had me at parade rest for most of the day. I have an alternate plan in the works, though.

Ron's plans for his half-day off today changed once he got to Tecumseh and saw white caps. Instead, he went to Lotus Garden to launch and fished Muddy Creek almost to Back Bay. He ended up with a nice assortment of fish, including seven bass (the biggest weighing 1-5 and 1-6), three crappie between 10 and 11 inches, one white perch, one yellow perch, and five chain pickerel up to 18 inches.

While protected from the wind, Muddy Creek was very shallow. Visibility ranged from clear at the beginning to muddy toward Back Bay.

The XTS minnow was Ron's go-to lure. He tried a fluke, shallow-water crankbait, beetlespins, and whopper plopper--all to no avail. Meanwhile, the XTS minnow kept producing, as long as he maintained a slow, steady retrieve just below the surface. 

"Enjoyable" is the way Ron characterized his trip.

To Thy Last and Smallest Keeper Be True

There's a mindset that goes something like this: "I'm going to weigh in whatever is in my livewell."

If/when you eliminate the possibility of throwing back fish, you also eliminate the most negative source of reasoning in your brain: pride and ego. That doesn't mean it will be any less painful walking to the tournament scales with your 5 pounds of fish when a lot of your buddies already have weighed 20-pound bags, but you'll be doing the right thing. In essence, you'll be learning to lose like a winner.

Brandon Palaniuk once said in an interview that he's won far more tournaments on the last cast than on the first. His mindset, when it comes to competition, is one dimensional; he believes he's going to win until the weighmaster tells him differently.

Developing a "winning attitude" (e.g., having confidence in yourself and your ability) like Palaniuk demonstrates is something a lot of people have trouble with. Doing so means one has to be able to adjust to changing weather and water conditions. For example, say in practice, you locate a group of fish that you know will win the tournament. You're picking 'em off with topwater baits without even breaking a sweat.

Now fast forward to tournament morning. You get to "your spot," but nothing is happening. The bass won't hit topwater, so you wonder, "What should I do?" This is when many anglers sink their own boat. Instead of trying to find the key to catching the fish they know are there, they let the fear of "zeroing" take over their decision-making.

Having a "winning attitude" doesn't mean you're going to win every tournament you enter. However, it does mean that you'll stay focused and that, at the end of the day, you'll be able to look at yourself in the mirror and know you fished to the very best of your ability.

A "winning attitude" won't automatically make you a champion, but it does make you a winner in one respect. You're setting yourself apart from those anglers who never fish to their true ability because they're afraid to zero.

According to one subject-matter expert, "There is only one thing holding anyone back from having a 'winning attitude,' and that is yourself. If you don't see yourself winning a tournament, you probably never will.

"You can't worry about what someone else might think if you come in with no fish. The minute you start worrying about what someone else thinks, your mind already has lost its focus, and that focus is very difficult to get back."

'Twas the Night Before Christmas (5 of 5)

By Dave Landahl

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all 'cross the water,

Not a creature was stirring, not even my daughter;

The rods were all geared up with fresh line and plastics,

In hopes that a big bass trips the light fantastic.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of Billy Bass danced in their heads;

And mamma in her camo grown, and I in my fidori,

Just sat down to watch "A Christmas Story."

When out on the lake there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the lounger to see what was the matter;

Away to the garage I dashed like a runner,

I backed in the boat and started to gun her.

The moonlight showed the remains of a ripple,

The excitement had me frozen, almost a cripple;

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,

But a giant greenback I had to commandeer.

Like a little old angler, so quiet and quick,

I reached in a box and got the Ugly Stick;

More rapid than eagles my casts how they flew,

Only to get a nibble or two.

Now, St. Croix! Now, Daiwa! Now, Pradco and Plano!

On, Crawlers! On, Spinners! On, Divers and Senko!

To the top of the water! To the bottom and all!

Now cast away! Cast away! Cast away all!

As bats to the light like wild hurricane fly,

Then the Big One's silhouette mounts to the sky;

So up went my rod as I set the hook,

Surprised that a few cranks was all it took.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard a small sound,

But no other creature was even around;

As I drew in my catch, and extracted the bait,

That bass said, "What's up? My name is Nate."

He was dressed all in scales, from his mouth to his tail,

His color was deep, and mine had turned pale;

I set him down gingerly upon the deck,

And he waved at me with the fin on his pec.

His eyes how they twinkled! His tail, how strong!

His gills were like roses, his body so long!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a smile,

I stood there frozen for what seemed like a while.

I had cut my fingers on his sharp little teeth,

His open mouth was the size of a wreath;

He had a scarred face and a little round belly,

That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.

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

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He said, "Thanks for letting me catch you tonight,

Since it's Christmas, I feared I'd have nothing to bite;

But I splashed and you came,

Like I called you by name.

Now put me back in, and I'll take a breath,

And tell you the secrets from down in the depths;

Then I heard him exclaim, ere he dove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all...fish at night."

Sport-fishing-industry veteran Dave Landahl (left) has fished from coast to coast and chased a multitude of fish species during his 40-plus years of angling. Along with all of this, he was a tournament angler and a fishing guide. His background as a representative for the sport-fishing community covers multiple decades. Landahl has spent a large portion of that time promoting and writing for ESPN Outdoors.com, OutdoorsFIRST Media, BassFan, FLW Outdoors, and a host of other outdoor-related media. He also has promoted recreational fishing and boating throughout the USA, previously working for the Recreational Boating and Fishing Foundation and promoting their Anglers' Legacy campaigin and Take Me Fishing. Landahl further was the host, along with his wife Kristin, of a popular Chicago area radio show, "The Fishing Fanatics." Said Landahl, "My love of the sport of fishing is vast. Like all of you, I want to fish every day I can. I dream about fishing, even when I am fishing. I hope my years in the fishing industry and time on the water will help produce products you find entertaining and will enhance your fishing lifestyle."

Summing Up 2016, Taking a Peek at 2017

The ancient Chinese philosopher and writer Laozi (also known as Lao-Tzu) once wrote, "The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step." In my case, that journey began with one blog post, and that was back on May 9, 2012.

As of Saturday, Dec. 17, 2016, I logged my 1,000th post. The same date also saw my blog go over 200,000 pageviews.

Another item of significance was our 2016 Dewey Mullins Memorial Bass Tourney Series. Our totals through the season-ending two-day Classic were 930 bass weighed, with a total weight of 1,853.84 lbs., for an overall average of 1.99 lbs. per fish. In comparison, we weighed 697 bass in 2015, with a total weight of 1,279.33 lbs., for an overall average of 1.83 lbs. per fish.

And even as hard as it is for me to believe, the numbers on my personal 2016 fishing season are better than usual. Thus far in the year (with hopefully a couple more trips left), my totals are 290 bass, with only three skunks. Those numbers compare to 2014, when I caught a total of 192 bass and had three skunks, and 2015, when I caught 193 bass and had one skunk.

My current 290 total, incidentally, includes three more fish from today's trip to West Neck. Once again, the flat-sided crankbait was my workhorse. It produced a 2-0 bass about 10:30, followed by a 1-2 a bit later, and concluded with a 2-10 (right) about an hour or so before I quit at 2 o'clock. All three bites were identical: The rod would load up, and then you just would feel pressure.

There's no doubt in my mind that the improvement in my fishing this year is a direct result of a tip I got from Dave a few months back. His sharing that INT (I'll Never Tell) bait with me led to a more successful summer than I've seen in a very long time, and for that, I'll always be grateful. Can hardly wait for the 2017 topwater bite to start, so I can wear out some more of those INT baits.

I ran into Dave today. He was launching when I arrived at the marina this morning and returned to the ramp just moments before I headed home this afternoon. He fished the upper end of West Neck, where he caught some pickerel and one bass. Also ran into Jared Allbritten, who told me he was going to do a little fishing but was more interested in just logging some time on his new boat's outboard.

Getting back to my year-end wrap-up, though, I also have some special soft-plastic rigs made up for the new year. With any luck, they'll help me locate some bedding fish come spring. I'd never seen or heard anything about this particular rig until recently. My research revealed the concept really isn't new, but I couldn't find many anglers who seemingly have tried it to date. Will have to get back to you with an update once I've had a chance to give the rig an acid test. I do understand that a couple of West Neck guys have used this bait rather successfully, and I do like the way it looks in the water.

Another thing on my agenda for 2017 is to continue the use of my wintertime jerkbaits and flat-sided crankbaits right on into the coming spring. Some data I've gathered indicates these baits have the potential to serve you well, even after the water has warmed again. At the moment, they're the only baits I'm throwing, because they're the only things working. I've always been one of those dudes who believes you should stay with a productive bait until it stops working. I also generally believe you shouldn't leave fish to go looking for more...unless maybe you need a kicker.

In closing, I owe a giant "Thank You!" to West Neck Marina Manager Steve Winfree for continuing to host our Dewey Mullins Memorial Bass Tourney Series. He, along with our anonymous benefactor, also deserve our thanks for the second-to-none cookouts that have been provided all anglers at the conclusion of our last two Classic tournaments. There couldn't be a better way to end two hard days of fishing--on that, I think we all can agree.

My final wish simply is this: Tight Lines! to one and all in 2017. Look forward to seeing you on the water. Oh, and Merry Christmas! Happy New Year!

An Angler's Christmas (4 of 5)

By Dr. Todd Larson

'Twas the night before Christmas and all across the lake,

Not a creature was stirring, not even a snake,

The stockings were hung in the cabin with care,

In hopes they'd be filled with bugs made of deer hair.

This angler was nestled all snug in his bed,

While visions of Pfluegers danced in my head;

Shakespeares and Heddons both old and brand new,

All served to disrupt my long winter's snooze.

When down on the dock there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter,

Worried about my Big Os in mint silver flash,

I tore open the door to investigate the splash.

The light reflecting from the nearly full moon,

Gave the luster of midday to my Dardevle spoons,

When what to my shock down the hill should appear,

But a Skeeter bass boat filled with reindeer!

And a portly old fisherman, so lively and quick,

I saw it was the angler we knew as St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his reindeer disembarked,

And he whistled and shouted their names he did hark;

"Now, Bagley! Now, Paw Paw! Now, Norman and Zebco!

On, Arnold! On, Rebel! On Jamison and Nebco!

To the top of the steps! To the end of the dock!

Then on to the store, my grazing herd flock!"

As dry flies that before the stiffest breeze fly,

When they meet with the wind and blow in the sky,

So along the dock to the bounders they flew,

Followed by the boat full of tackle and St. Nicholas, too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the shore,

Their prancing and pawing and reindeer-like roar.

As I drew in my breath and was turning around,

Up the steps St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in B.A.S.S. gear from head to foot,

And his Ranger Boats cap was blackened with soot;

A bundle of rods he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a trout bum just opening his pack.

But his eyes, they twinkled, his smile was so merry,

His hooks were all sharp, his reels were so cherry,

His Orvis fly rod was as lithe as a bow,

And his hand-tied streamer whiter than snow;

A piece of his leader he held tight in his teeth,

And the rest of his line lay coiled like a wreath.

St. Nick the Angler adjusted his belly,

And it flubbered around like a worm made of jelly.

But despite his big girth he could handle a rod,

And he had taken his share, in spite of his bod,

He slipped in the house with nary a word,

As I stared in disbelief at his grazing deer herd.

St. Nick got to work, and with a nod of his face,

He gave his approval of my piscatorial cache,

He spoke not a word and went straight to his work,

Filling the stockings with baits made to jerk,

Arbogasts, Helins, Spoonplugs and Skinners,

Bass Pro, Cabelas, and multi-blade spinners,

The stockings were soon just bursting with treasure,

And he threw in a Winston, just for good measure.

Then laying his finger aside of his head,

He gave me a nod, and down the steps he fled;

Into his boat he jumped, with its promo decals,

And he puttered off out of sight to fish with his pals.

But I hear him exclaim, as he trolled out of sight,

"Good fishing to all, and to all anglers, a goodnight!"

Dr. Todd E. A. Larson (left) has been chronicling the history of fishing and tackle for more than two decades. Through his books, hundreds of published articles, his popular Fishing for History Blog (where I found this poem) and Classic Fly Rod Forum, his column for Field & Stream, and The Whitefish Press (the world's largest press dedicated to fishing history), he has done much to preserve our nation and the world's fishing heritage. A dedicated fly angler and conservationist, his research into the history of fly-rod-and-reel design has led him to develop fly-fishing products that incorporate the latest in technologies, while still retaining a classic look and feel.

A Couple of Hints: He's Not Posing for a Magazine Centerspread...

Nor is he signaling a good field-goal kick. Instead, he's expressing frustration with yet another rude angler.

By Jake Freeman

In this age of bass fishing, we are faced with more anglers and the same amount of water we had 20 years ago.

With endless financing, we also now have high-end bass boats being operated by anglers with little to no experience, and thanks to social media, everyone wants to be a KVD...without having to earn it like he did.

Admittedly, we have all made mistakes on the water. Maybe we weren't paying attention, or didn't see someone fishing the bank up ahead of us, or maybe we came around a point a little too close to a boat whose occupants were fishing. I've made my fair share of goofs, as well, but I usually stop and apologize with a "sorry, my bad, didn't see you," then continue on my way. Accidents happen, and how you respond to those really tell what kind of person and angler you are.

In today's fishing, however, there is a very small group of anglers who feel like they are above all the rest. Was it their raising? Did their mother not pay enough attention to them? Did they eat paint chips as a child? Who knows, but it's becoming more rampant than ever, and something needs to be done about it.

I live very close to Lake Guntersville, which has to be one of the worst lakes in the country for either rude or simply uneducated bass anglers. I essentially have stopped going to the lake out of fear I will lose my cool. Rather than bet against my temper, I simply stay away. Following are a few typical angler types one can expect to find on the water, along with some ideas about how to deal with them.

Pot-lickers or bent-pole fishermen. For those who don't know, these are anglers not good enough to find their own fish, so when they drive by and see you set the hook, they immediately stop, turn around, and start fishing directly on top of you. Best-case scenario: A pot-licker will slow down, hit his waypoint button, and come back and fish your spot later. Either way, these people have no confidence in their ability to locate and catch fish on their own.

The angler with a deed. You also have people who believe they own a certain spot on the lake. You're fishing, minding your own business, when a guy comes up and says, "You're fishing my hole." I immediately look around and say, "I don't see anything on the water or my mapping software that states you own this part of the water." These people are under some kind of false belief that, since they caught a 6-pounder there last year, they can come back and fish that same spot any time they like. If you happen to be there, you're just supposed to move. They believe they actually own that spot...weirdest thing I've ever seen.

The guide. I have friends that are guides and are the greatest people on earth and love them dearly, but there are a a few who will request that you move off a spot because they have clients with them. I was under the assumption that a guide had more than one spot on which he can catch fish. I actually have witnessed a guide cast over another angler's line after that angler was there first and refused to leave. This action is super unprofessional, and if I were a client, it instantly would turn me off.

The next KVD. This angler generally possesses all the previous qualities and will let you know he is privileged because he's fishing a BFL, open or church tournament and has been on some "good ones." Ya gotta love those who do wrong in the name of a church tournament--LOL. And I have seen it firsthand. Anyway, this angler will cut you off, cast over you, go between you and the bank, drive 10 feet from you at 65 mph while you are fishing, waypoint your spots, and do it all because they are on the road to the "big time." In no way am I saying KVD ever pulled such a stunt, but I'm using his name because people want to be him but don't want to earn it.

Mr. Sneaky. This guy is a new one, but he's crafty. He starts out a long ways from you, sees you catch a few, and then makes his way over to you, all the while creating conversation to become "your buddy," and before you know it, he's casting on top of you. But wait...it's OK because you and he talked about college football or some other vague topic. Anglers in this category are the used-car salesmen of the world. I have nothing against used-car salesmen, but you know what I mean.

Here's how to deal with all these people:

     * It's hard to do, but just pull up your trolling motor and move on, especially if you have kids with you. Set an example by being the bigger angler.

     * Politely point out what they are doing, and ask them to please give you your space.

     * If they start encroaching, then start a conversation with them. Ask if they are fishing a tournament. If they say yes, ask which one. This will give you information about whom to report their behavior.

     * Video them. No one wants to be the big talk of social media all over the world.

     * If things start to get out of hand, immediately pull up your trolling motor and leave, but try to get their boat number, and contact the authorities.

There are several other options, but the last one you want to do is get into a screaming match with someone over a fishing spot. When both parties are mad, there's a good chance an altercation or worse will occur at some point. The idea of two adults screaming and cussing in the middle of a lake does nothing to legitimize our sport. The reason it makes no sense to argue is because neither is going to change the other's behavior. You're just basically going to be mad the rest of the day and lose all your focus on fishing.

So, in closing, if you find yourself standing there, with hands held high, looking at your partner and asking, "What the heck is that guy doing?" just remember you can't control his actions...only your own.

The author (right) is a career deputy sheriff for Jefferson County, Alabama, and has been in law enforcement since he was 22 years old. He's also a seasoned K9 handler. In addition, he's been a self-taught fisherman his entire life. Jake Freeman has fished hundreds of tournaments but never has made much money and has no desire to become a professional angler. Instead, his desire and passion is on the other side of the industry; he wants to be a successful business owner in the sport he has loved his entire life. Toward that end, he has owned some small online tackle stores and once was a project manager for one of the most recognized professional anglers in the world. Freeman's latest accomplishment is founder and CEO of 5 x 3 Fishing LLC, which makes a line of bass-fishing clothing. In case you're interested, here's the link: http://5x3nation.com/.

From My House to All of Yours

THE YEAR END BRINGS

NO GREATER PLEASURE THAN THE

OPPORTUNITY TO EXPRESS TO YOU

SEASON'S GREETINGS AND GOOD WISHES.

May your holidays

and New Year

be filled with happiness.

The West Neck Rambler

'Twas the Week Before Christmas (3 of 5)

By Scott McGehee

'Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the South

The weather was warming, time to catch a largemouth.

I should be out shopping for gifts with care,

But instead, I have hope that the bass will be there.

The water's too cold for the bass to bed,

So I'll just have to catch them, fishing slow instead.

While momma's at the house, wrapping gifts with class,

I'm on the lake, a fishin' for bass.

When up on the shore, arose such a clatter,

I ran to the bank to see what's the matter.

Away from my weedline,

That'd been producing just fine.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a sleigh, pulled by eight whitetail deer,

I have to admit, I was a little confused,

St. Nick was here early, which left me bemused.

I told him, Please, be aware,

Gun season is open, so your deer should take care.

There's hunters about, even though there's no chill,

Looking for fresh venison, all ready to grill.

He replied, They'll have to chance it, alone in the wood,

I'd love to go fishing, if I could join you, I would.

Turns out, old Santa's a bassaholic at heart,

Catches bass to unwind, has done so from the start.

So back to the weedline we flew,

To see if I couldn't help old St. Nick catch a few.

Thus we drove to my spot, in my nimble BassCat,

Where he sat at my side, all jolly and fat.

And he whistled and shouted and called out his wishes,

Fish crankbaits and worms, to catch some fishes.

Spinnerbaits and jigs, we must all try,

We'll catch us some bass, to grill or fry.

We had quite a day, with cast after cast,

It passed way too fast, I wished it would last.

I came to find out that St. Nick's a good stick,

When it comes to cold water, he knows every trick.

I wanted to beat him, but then I thought twice,

If I do that, it might not be nice.

If I'm naughty, I'll get switches and coal,

Not what I wanted, a new power pole.

So catch them, we did, all the way to dark,

'Till he said he must go, it's been quite a lark.

There's still work to be done, before my big night,

Back to my eight deer, I must take flight.

Back to the elves, before they start to fight,

A delay in getting ready, just wouldn't be right.

So left me, he did, they took to the sky;

Called his whitetail deer, north did they fly.

And he whistled and shouted, and called them by name;

But since he's been fishing, their names aren't the same.

Now, Rayburn! Now, Martin! Now, Falcon and Fork!

On, Pickwick! On, Sardis! On, Mead and Norfork!

To the end of the dam! To the top of the trees!

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away, please!

But as they flew off, I did hear him call;

Merry Christmas to you, and Bass Wishes to all.

The author (left) is an avid bass-tournament fisherman, fishing the B.A.S.S. Opens. "To me," he says, "fishing is less of a hobby than an obsession." He shares that obsession with all who takes time to read MyBassLife -- Scott McGehee's Fishing Blog. Check it out at this link: http://mybasslife.com/. According to my research, this poem reportedly first appeared Dec. 23, 2009, on the BassFan website. However, I wasn't able to document that information.

"Santa Claus Bass Fishing" photo from New York Outdoors.

The Official Word About Channel Markers in West Neck Creek

"Since West Neck Creek is not considered a state or federally maintained channel, the markers will have to be personally maintained by someone"--if at all.

That's the word from Chad Boyce, a fish biologist with the Virginia Department of Game and Inland Fisheries. Chad went on to tell me, "There are no creeks (along the North Landing River) that have officially marked channels."

What does this mean to the people who launch boats out of West Neck Marina and/or fish West Neck Creek? In short, the day probably is coming when those channel markers that are left will go the way of at least three others--that I'm aware of--and completely disappear.

Some folks may remember, but for the benefit of those who don't, the former West Neck Marina manager Dewey Mullins orchestrated installation of the markers that are still in the creek today. He and a crew of volunteers did the whole job. A lot of years, a lot of storms, and a few misguided watercraft in the interim have taken their toll on the markers that remain.

The scary part of this situation is that some people already drive their boats through areas of the creek with submerged hazards big enough to do some serious damage, and as more and more markers disappear, those dangers will only increase. I've been fishing this creek since 1977, and even yet today, I happen upon hazards that I didn't know existed. I found another new one just last Wednesday, as a matter of fact--a huge submerged stump that sits well off the main shoreline. I saw it thanks to the low, clear water I was fishing that day.

There also are some major "stump fields" along the creek that extend a long ways off the shoreline and which I'm willing to bet not everyone knows about. It's these kinds of things that cause me to stop and stare in disbelief when I see people sometimes cutting between markers and the shoreline or operating boats recklessly while towing kids on tubes and such up or down the creek.

West Neck and Pocaty are two places that you should show a lot of respect for when it comes to operating a boat at high speed, especially on low-water days. Both, in my opinion, represent "accidents just waiting to happen." The smart boater is the one who saves his/her hot-dogging for the main river.

Yo, Skip, Your Boat's Under That Pile of Clothes

Here's just one more reason why I've always hated moving. You end up with messes like this, which don't go away by wiggling your nose--unless, that is, you possess the same powers Samantha Stevens had in that old TV show "Bewitched."

Skip told me their initial planning didn't include a rented temporary storage space looking this way, but as often is the case, they had a bit more stuff to tuck away than what he and Leslie originally thought. As a result, the idea of keeping Skip's Nitro clear, so he could go fishing if he wanted, ended up becoming nothing more than a pipe dream.

As Skip lamented in his email accompanying this photo, "It looks worse than it is..." or maybe not, because he told me he was looking for something that he still hasn't found. "I hope I can undig it...and my boat...by March."

With any luck, Skip and Leslie will have moved into their new home by then, and everything will be back to normal. "If it isn't, just holler, Skip. We'll form a search party to give you a hand."

Water's Gettin' Colder, But They're Still Bitin'

The water temp when I pulled away from the ramp at 10:30 this morning was 47.4. It only had increased to 49.9 when I came back at 2:30.

With the water level down again this morning, I couldn't resist the urge to go see if I could find a few fish. Things started slow, but I managed to catch a total of five fish before I quit. Among that total was one yellow perch, one pickerel, and three bass, including a dink, a 1-6 (above), and a 3-3 (below). I also missed a couple of strikes that simply were so soft I didn't realize they were strikes until it was too late. The tell-tale swirls in the water, though, told the story.

The productive baits again were a jerkbait and a flat-sided crankbait. Unfortunately, I hung the crankbait in a log on the bottom shortly after I caught the 3-3, and even with the assistance of a lure retriever, I wasn't able to get it back. That's OK, however, because I've already ordered three replacements that will be here in just a few days.

Best part of the whole trip was the fact I had West Neck all to myself today. There wasn't a vehicle in the parking lot when I left, or when I came back.

With the current weather predictions, you can bet I won't be sticking my bald head outside the door any more than necessary for the next couple of days. If they're right about the predicted temps for the weekend, though, I very well may try to get in another trip.

I had a conversation with Steve this morning, and he was telling me that he still plans to try getting completely out of the pool business by about April and devote all his time to the marina. In the meantime, he's working diligently to get rid of all the old boats on the premises for which it has been years since the owners  paid any storage fees. And of course, he's also engaged in trying to get his barbecue-sandwich truck operational, the kiddies playset completely up and usable, and the picnic tables ready.

Plans also are in the works to paint all the perimeter fencing. And, as I learned for the first time today, a tall telephone pole is in the works for the point down by the ramp. On the top of it will go a dusk-to-dawn light, which can be used for launching o-dark-30 tournaments. The light that has been used for that purpose in the past will remain in place but won't be used to launch tournament boats.

Stay tuned, because Steve indicates he also is mulling over some other advancements for the future.

I also received an email from Ron, telling me he had battled the incoming current at HRBT from 0300 to 0600 this morning. He caught about 25 stripers (said he lost exact count), with three of them keeper size..."nothing over 21 inches, though," he said. "In looking at the weather, I may suffer withdrawals for the next few days," he added.

Still Baggin' Stripers at the HRBT

Received an email from Ron, in which he said he had taken another trip to the HRBT this morning. "With low tide at 0140, I decided to launch at 0200," he said. "The beginning of the incoming current produced a bite that improved with the speed of the current. Very mild temps and conditions."

Ron went on to explain that his third and ninth fish of the morning (pictured here), at 21 and 22 inches, respectively, were keepers.

"I only fished for about 45 minutes and was back at the ramp before 0400," he explained. "Didn't have to go through too many shorts to catch my limit for a change." As is often the case, however, the best one of the day turned out to be the one that got away.

"A real drag-screamer got wrapped in my peddles," he said. "Had to open my bail and remove the peddle drive, but then he ran again and this time got wrapped around a pylon as I tried to reposition the kayak and reinsert my peddle drive.

"'Twould have been comical if I had been watching someone else flail about like that!" Ron concluded.

Bass Fishing Tournament Etiquette

Adapted from a story originally written by Paul Bruessow.

The tournament has ended, you and your partner have weighed in your fish, and a smile spreads across your face as you realize your 5th-place finish has put you "in the money." You're real happy until a few of the guys flip you the "bird" and make some unpleasant remarks. "What's their problem?" you wonder.

Then, your partner says he's getting a ride home with someone else and starts taking his tackle out of your boat. Suddenly, you figure you must have done something wrong, so you replay the tournament day in your head. Your thoughts run something like this:

I got up a little late this morning 'cause I forgot to set the alarm clock. Once on the road, I swung by to pick up my partner, who asked, "Why didn't you call and tell me you would be a little late?"

"I didn't have time!" was my response. I also told him we were swinging by the gas station and that he needed to fill up the boat and truck, since I made the boat and insurance payments. I emphasized that it's normal for the partner to do this.

When we got to the boat-launch area, I lined up with the other trucks. I left my lights on so anyone coming behind me would see me. Once we got to the front of the line, we exited the truck and started boat-launch preparations. I put in the drain plug, took off the transom saver, pulled off the safety straps, hooked up the boat lights, etc. About 10 minutes later, my partner started backing me and the boat down the ramp. By this time, the sky was beginning to light up from the early morning sun. The two trucks behind me started honking their horns. I shouted back, "You shoulda got here earlier!"

Once the boat was in the water, my partner parked the truck. Meanwhile, I beached the boat and waited for him to get back and climb aboard. By this time, the tournament director was calling out boat numbers, and some already were headed down the lake. Our boat number already had been called, and with about 20 other boats still waiting, I quickly took off, leaving a huge wake right in the middle of the waiting boats.

As we approached the hole I wanted to fish, another boat was sitting right there. This spot was a bulrush line, about 30 yards long, that I knew was loaded with bedding fish. Because I was anxious to get there and start fishing, I didn't come off plane until the last minute, then quickly threw over the trolling motor, picked up my bedding-fish rig, and started pitching the pockets and points. My partner was doing the same thing. In fact, he got the first fish, about a 2-pounder, and I told him to "swing it in like a real man."

Within about 20 feet of the other boat, I got my first fish on and yelled for my partner to get the net, and he soon scooped up a nice 2-pound fish. I gave him a high-five for a nice net job. On this first pass, I had noticed that the fish were getting spooked from their beds as we approached, so I decided to keep the boat outside the weedline, with the nose pointing toward the weeds and the stern out in the main lake.

I figured this tactic would keep 'em from spooking, and it did. I had a limit by about 10 a.m. Meanwhile, my partner still only had that one fish, but I figured the problem was that he just didn't really know how to fish. He asked me if he could share the front deck with me, but I told him no, explaining that "there's no room, and you'll mess up my hooksets."

By noon, I had culled a few fish but couldn't seem to find a nice kicker. I saw that other boat land a nice one, though, so I put the trolling motor on high and took the inside track in the bulrush patch. Within about 30 feet of the other boat, I buried up in the bulrush patch and was scouting for a bigger fish, when I saw a nice 4-pounder on the bed. The fish wouldn't take anything I had, though, until I tied on a tube bait. Then, Wham! the 4-pounder hit, my partner quickly netted it, and into the livewell it went.

With only 30 minutes of fishing time left, I decided to play it safe. I fired up the big motor in the middle of the weeds, and we took off, sending a nice wake into the other boat. We arrived at the weigh-in site with about 25 minutes of fishing time left, so I beached the boat and kicked back, waiting for the tournament director, while my partner took off for the nearest restroom.

OK, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out how screwed up this dude's logic is. Let's sort out everything that's wrong here.

     * Always leave on time. Your partner won't worry, and you'll get to the ramp and not hold up anyone.

     * It's OK to keep your parking lights on, but turn off your headlights while waiting in the launch line. This will prevent you from blinding the person who is backing their boat down the ramp.

     * Prepare your boat for launching long before you get to the front of the line. This will speed up the entire process for everyone.

     * Never plane right in the middle of a bunch of other boats. Get beyond the last standing boat before you take off.

     * Always give some room to another boat, especially when they were on the spot first. In the previous example, you only respectfully should fish the furthest bulrush from the boat that already is there, or better yet, wait until he leaves. At least ask first if he minds sharing the spot, and if he says "yes," take off. Your time will come.

     * Always net fish (if allowed by the tournament), and don't wait for the partner to ask you to get the net. If your partner prefers you not to net the fish, he'll tell you.

     * Always be considerate of your partner's fishing position. In the previous example, he didn't stand a chance because he was too far away to site fish. Offer him a chance at the front of the boat, especially when you already have a limit. In fact, a lot of tournament rules include a provision to share the trolling motor 50-50. At least ask. If he refuses because he's not comfortable running it, then fine.

     * Fish until the last possible minute, with a slight safety factor, unless you have a large limit of fish. That's the only fair thing to do, especially when your partner isn't doing well.

     * Who pays what when it comes to tournament entry fees and related fuel costs often varies from one team to another. The smart anglers talk about it early on and come to a mutual understanding. Don't just pull up to the pumps and tell someone, "Take care of it!"

A little common courtesy goes a long way in forging good partnerships on the water. The Golden Rule works as well here as it does anywhere else.

The late-Paul Bruessow was a U.S. Air Force veteran, graduate of the University of Florida, and worked as an engineer in the aerospace industry. He also founded the website Floridabassfishing.us. Bruessow died Feb. 15, 2013, at the age of 56.

'Twas the Night Before Christmas (2 of 5)

Author Unknown

'Twas the night before Christmas, when out on the lake,

All the bass were a studying all the lures not to take.

The chug bugs, the senkos, the spinnerbaits, too,

Were some to look out for, these but a few.

While back at my house, I was snuggled in bed,

As visions of big ones, danced about in my head.

A cast to some stickups, a cast to some weeds,

Produced bass after bass, it was a Mecca indeed.

I arose in the morning, tree lights twinkling bright,

My eyes full of dream dust, I was quite a sight.

I gathered the family, and sat them down near,

For the tale of the bass trip, I wanted all them to hear.

I regaled them quickly, with all that I caught,

The big ones, the little ones, the lunkers I fought.

Their eyes were like saucers, as they listened with glee,

But their thoughts were on presents, beneath our great tree.

As I finished my tale, I heard from my wife,

Merry Christmas, dear family,

And George, get a life.

New Doesn't Always Beat Old

There's a fairly popular belief floating around that new lures don't necessarily always hold an edge on old ones. In some cases, the belief is that, if anything, old ones occasionally hold the upper hand. But how can that be? you may be asking.

Simply stated, when someone starts throwing a lure that fish haven't seen for a long spell, they tend to "forget" they've been fooled by it before. In a sense, the old becomes new again.

Take, for instance, George Cochran, who, for a long time, has been a member of Strike King's Pro Fishing Team. During a B.A.S.S. tournament on Kentucky Lake, he had been catching the heck out of fish in thick cover with a spinnerbait and was in the top five going into the last day. By noon that last day, though, he only had logged one bass and lost two or three more on a spinnerbait. "The bass just didn't want that lure," he said.

Finally, at noon, with only two-and-a-half hours of fishing time left, George sat down in the boat and opened his tacklebox, looking for something else to throw. It was then that he saw some Strike King Spence Scouts.

"I can't tell you how many times I've fished logjams and really thick, shallow cover in the old days with the Spence Scout and caught fish on it," he explained. "That's why I keep some in my tacklebox."

On the second cast after tying one on, he caught a bass weighing about 3 pounds. Then he took one that weighed about 2 pounds. Moments later, he came to a laydown log and caught one about 4 pounds, but when he got this fish to the boat, it dived under a log and broke him off. He quickly tied on the only Spence Scout he had left and ended up with a stringer of bass good enough to finish second in that tournament.

And how about that old "million dollar bass bait"? Many pro anglers also refer to this as a "big bass bait." I'm talking, of course, about none other than the jig and pig combo. According to one source, "This bait has earned more money for anglers than any other artificial bass bait that ever has been produced, especially when fishing it in bass tournaments."

Denny Brauer is but one example of pro bass anglers who have become millionaires fishing tournaments with this bait. It also has earned tournament anglers a handsome amount of money from the "lunker" or "big bass" pots. In reality, the "million dollar bass bait" probably has earned millions (plural) of dollars for tournament anglers during the last 30 years.

Another 20-year-old "dinosaur" that isn't yet extinct is the Silver Buddy blade bait. Known for decades as a "cold water" bait, this hunk of metal today is being fished by pro anglers during the "dog days" of August.

What's so magical about this lure for all seasons? It looks like a child designed this simple fish-shaped blade with a hunk of lead and a couple of hooks. It's easy to cast, even into the wind. It can be fished at any depth, and when lifted or pulled through the water, it gives off a tremendous vibration, like driving your car tires over reflector strips on the highway.

Buddy Banks and legendary smallmouth fisherman, Billy Westmoreland, tweaked this lure, and the legend began...and continues today.

Finally, there's Mike Iaconelli's panic box that he turns to when all else fails. In this Plano 3600 box are four types of baits, which as he explained, "I used early in my fishing history, when I fished more just to catch fish, rather than to catch bass specifically."

His favorite hard-times bait in this box is a 4-inch finesse worm, which Mike uses with a split shot, sizes 3 to 7 (approximately 1/16 to 1/4 oz.), when times are tough. The second bait in his panic box is probably the most basic plastic lure ever designed: the grub. The third type of bait in the box probably gets the most laughs of the four; it's the old in-line spinner. The last type of bait you'll find in the panic box is the old hair jig, which Mike usually uses with some type of pork as a trailer. He says this bait "really bails me out when the water temp gets cold."

When the pressure is on, these four baits "can save your day," to borrow Mike's words. "All of them can be put in a small box and stored for an emergency situation. Whether you're a tournament angler or a recreational fisherman, you never want to get skunked. These baits definitely will help you put some fish in the boat."

I, too, use my share of old baits as part of my regular arsenal. It's nothing unusual for me to shop ebay for long discontinued lures, and as I learned the other day during a conversation with a couple of friends, I'm not alone in that regard. Both of them expressed the fact they also carry some discontinued lures in their tackleboxes. Granted, I carry a number of modern baits, but hardly a trip passes that I don't throw at least a couple of old ones, as well, and they frequently put fish in the boat.