A Look Back at Navy New Year 1966

USS Topeka (CLG 8), somewhere in the Gulf of Tonkin

Romeo has been hauled down, at the conn: Captain Buell,

From the oiler off our starboard, we are taking on fuel.

Chemung is her name, she carries it with pride,
She's high in the water and acting as guide.
We're part of a task unit, 77.0.1 is the number,
And all is being accomplished when normally we'd slumber.
Off to starboard, the Gridley moves forth and back,
As friendly sub Bream simulates an attack.
ComSeventhFlt has a schedule established for the quarter,
Indicating ops for Topeka while she's out in the water.
We are down in the Gulf of Tonkin, I mean,
The war has slackened, but we remain keen.
On base course, we speed at ten knots, 'till through,
The gyro repeater shows three zeros true.
With navigation for the steering and the exec for support,
We will have little problem reaching our port.
To the right of the oiler, the Berkeley is parked,
With CTU77.0.1 the OTC (ComDesRon 13) embarked.
RADM Irvine, who's SOPA, in Topeka resides,
77.1, 70.8 and 77.9 are numbers by which he's disguised.
In our ship and others, the vital word is three,
For it's the condition of readiness upon which we key.
Since quick closure's important, considering our position,
Yoke is the summary of material condition.
Radio frequency energy from all radars emits,
Because operations has decided to set Emcon Six.
Impetus for moving and the source of our light,
Comes from 2 and 4 boilers and all generators tonight.
The only lights burning on this very dark night,
Are lights termed "obstruction" (to warn of our plight).
We just rang twelve bells to make very clear,
That what just has occurred was the start of a year.
At 0007, the chief engineer reports,
The fueling is finished, there'll be no retorts.
The helo's JP-5 was topped off just so,
And we're now 98 percent NSFO.
At 0008: "Hoses clear" comes the call,
Weapons' men can be proud, the chore was not small.
At 0011 to 17 knots we did change,
And to 335 our course rearrange.
At 0019 and one minute apart,
The speed is 10 knots, the course is due north.
At 0021 on the Captain's dispatch,
The OOD took the conn for the rest of the watch.
At 0027, the special detail,
Set for replenishment only, is secured from the rail.
One more speed change, and then one in course,
The latter at 0113, 0058 for the first.
As part of the efforts to halt the aggression,
We leave you with thoughts shaped by discretion.
As we are returning to our Tonkin outpost,
We send New Year's greetings to you with a toast.

R. T. Reitmeier
Ensign, U.S. Navy

Ron Wraps Up Another Successful Season

Today was my last trip of the year. With it being a balmy 46 degrees, and winds running 10 to 12, I had to get out one more time in my kayak before the freeze. I ended up catching a skunk, but had to try. The next few days aren't supposed to see the mercury rise above 30, and coupled with the predicted winds, it's a bit too much for me. One of this year's highlights was a 24-lb. blue cat that I got on an ultralight with a beetlespin. I also caught a citation yellow perch that qualified me for a Master Angler Certificate. Another highlight was a PB striper at 29 inches, which provided a bunch of tasty meals. During the year, I was treated to some amazing sunsets, a bunch of wildlife, good friends, good times, and some tight lines.

Following are my totals for the year:
778 LMB (majority were dinks, but a few pole-benders)
182 white perch
112 stripers
61 yellow perch
29 bowfin
119 speckled trout
69 chain pickerel
154 crappie

Those totals included 319 trips, 1,159 miles, 911 hours, and 16 skunks. Had a discrepancy between my fishing log and kayak trip app, so will have to fix that next year.

Happy New Year's and tight lines to one and all in 2018.

Pungo Ferry Ramp Construction

Here's the way things looked earlier today, when I took a ride out there. No workers were in sight, so I eased down close to the scene, snapped three shots, then left.

Celebrating an Ending, Welcoming a Beginning

"O, What a Tangled Web We Weave When First We Practice to Deceive!"

That familiar saying by Scottish novelist Walter Scott (1771-1832) is similar to the way I've felt since stumbling onto an Internet story a couple days ago. I've gone in circles since then, trying to find the pieces of the puzzle I feel are missing. I happened onto another lead yesterday evening, but when I checked it out this morning, I again came up empty-handed.

Let me clarify that I don't really think David Meeks, a reporter with the Sun-Sentinel at the time, set out to deceive anyone with this story. For some unknown reason, though, no one bothered to tell the rest of the story (e.g., like whatever happened to the inventors and their invention). In the meantime, here is what I know so far:

Around Halloween 1998, auto mechanic Ralph Millen (age 45 at the time, so would only be 62 today) and his wife, Janet, or "Queen," as he calls her, were in Mount Dora, FL, for a week's vacation. A greatly anticipated highlight of their vacation was a fishing trip to Lake Dora. It was going to be a chance for Millen to satisfy his passion for bass fishing, which dates back to his childhood on a small lake in Michigan. What they couldn't have known is that the fishing trip wouldn't turn out the way they had hoped.

In a nutshell, Millen's equipment that day didn't cooperate. As any bass angler who uses spinning equipment will tell you, "lateral line twist" is an unavoidable annoyance. When the twisting is extensive, it occasionally works itself farther up and causes backlash from the line severely overwrapping itself inside the reel. In a worst-case scenario, you can't cast, nor can you reel. That's what happened to Millen, who was left holding a massive tangle of uselessness.

"It was the only reel I had that day," said Millen, "so, basically, I got a real expensive boat ride. I didn't get to fish nothin'. I ended up just pouting in the boat a little bit."

That day's episode bothered Millen all night, and he started brainstorming about it. While his life's work was car repair, he also had experience as a commercial artist and hailed from a family of design engineers. He started designing and drawing, looking for a solution that, as far as he knew, had eluded the major fishing-tackle companies--a system that would not cause lateral line twist. And he came up with something.

"Honestly, I designed it just for me," he noted, "but after I field-tested it a couple of times, I couldn't believe the difference. It went from being a problem to no problem at all. It virtually eliminated lateral line twist."

Millen's concept was amazingly simple. He redesigned the bullet weight used with soft plastics so that a swivel would fit inside the weight. The concealed swivel allowed the bait to spin freely, with no subsequent line twist.

He showed the invention to his brother-in-law, Walter Schatzel (age 38 at the time, so would only be 55 today), a detective with the Hollywood, FL Police Department, who, like Millen, was a weekend warrior on area lakes. After trying the gadget, Schatzel said, "Ralph, this is so simple. Somebody must have already come up with the same thing or something similar."

Millen and Schatzel looked through every tackle catalog they could find but didn't come across a single trace of anything like it. They then hired a lawyer and checked with the U.S. Patent Office but still could not find anything like it. So they patented the invention as a "Millennium Twist" (the out-of-focus photo at the beginning is the only one of the invention I could find). Here's the online link to their patent: https://www.google.com/patents/WO2001087061A1?cl=en. Then came the big step: finding some pros who would try it.

They got the Millennium Twist into the hands of Gary Dobyns and Dave Rush, who both gave it rave reviews. "I was waiting for someone to burst my bubble," said Millen, "telling me they had used something like this for years. Instead, though, Dobyns and Rush were asking where they could get more of these. Rush even wrote a testimonial, calling the Millennium Twist 'a must for any fisherman who uses fishing line.'"

Soon, major tackle companies got interested, and Millen reached agreements with Eagle Claw hooks, Bullet weights, and Culprit worms. Those companies made gear to Millen's specifications and shipped it to his garage, which, at the time, was in Miramar, FL. At one point, that gear, including 200,000 artificial worms, a pallet of weights, 1.2 million hooks, and some very high hopes, shared space with all of Millen's auto-repair equipment.

In April 2000, Millen still hadn't made a dime of profit off his invention, but he and Schatzel still were assembling each one by hand...and they were starting to get noticed. Customers were able to order them through a now-nonexistent website (where you supposedly could get a 100-piece set, including a variety of hooks pre-attached to barrel swivels, for $29.95 a set), and Millen just had signed a deal with the Home Shopping Network for a series of infomercials.

"I'm hoping this someday is my primary source of revenue," he said. "I don't want to be greasy the rest of my life."

In 1998, sales of fishing tackle, not including major items like boats, had reached $44 billion, so it was rather amazing that no one in research and development at some huge company had thought of this idea before Millen.

He wasn't looking to make a fortune with his invention. Instead, he just wanted to find something that would prevent line twist, so he could spend more time fishing and less time working.

Believe it or not, this is where the story I found online just suddenly stops, with absolutely no further indication of whatever happened to the Millennium Twist or its inventors. As I said in the beginning, though, I'm still digging, so hope springs eternal. It seems bizarre to me that someone would go to the trouble of getting a patent for his invention, and then just suddenly drop the whole idea, but then I don't claim to be a mind-reader.

Enjoy It While You Can...

'Cause the day is coming when that wrinkled skin you get from sitting out there on a boat in an all-day rain won't entirely fade away as you dry. Don't be fooled by those who will try to convince you that "getting older" is just a state of mind. I'm here to tell you it's that and a whole lot more.

Just wait 'til the day comes when you start to scratch your head and happen to notice all those wrinkles in the skin on your bent arm. Sure, those wrinkles (most of  'em, anyway) disappear as soon as you put your arm down, but I think I safely can say you won't be able to get that image of those wrinkles out of your head. And if you want to really get grossed out, try striking a full-body manly pose in the au natural in front of the bathroom mirror after you've seen those wrinkles on your arm. There's no hurry; just wait 'til one day when you're getting ready to step into the shower. A word of caution: You might want to make sure that your significant other isn't standing behind you at the time.

So, what got me to thinking about this topic? Well, it started with a Christmas morning email from my friend, Skip. His note read as follows: "Yesterday morning, despite it being misty, rainy and cold, I ran into Eddie Sapp at 7-11. He had his boat hooked up and was going fishing. I couldn't help thinking, 'Ah, to be young again!'"

"My sentiments exactly" was my first thought. Then I mulled it over for a moment or two and came to the conclusion there might be a blog post in that statement. Following a little bit of Internet research, I knew I could make something of Skip's comment. Turns out I learned a couple of things in the process, too.

For example, did you know that cold weather puts pressure on the heart, especially in that of...ahem...the elderly? The cold temperature thickens the blood and constricts the arteries. I had a good firsthand example of that during my latest fishing trip, when I happened to stick myself with a treble hook. It took several seconds for a single spot of blood to appear on my index finger, and then it just sat there in a blob until I wiped it on my jeans. According to the British Heart Foundation, this pressure on the heart results in it having to work harder and causes an individual to be more susceptible to a heart attack or stroke.

A person suffering from cold temperatures also may be affected cognitively, showing signs of clumsiness, lack of coordination, confusion, and sleepiness.

Older people, most notably those with existing medical conditions, further are more sensitive to the effects of hot weather, as well. For example, people suffering with heart disease will find it more difficult for their bodies to circulate blood properly and dissipate heat. Certain medications also can cause problems for some elderly during hot weather. Diuretics, for example, cause water loss, and, therefore, when the outside temperature increases, dehydration is accelerated.

Anyone who knows Skip knows that he often fishes with an umbrella over his pedestal seat during summer. He and at least one other fellow tournament angler, whom I know, take medications that are affected by their exposure to the hot sun.

The reality is that the older we get, the more sensitive we become to temperature changes.

According to Al Lindner, anglers 30 years old or younger and competing on the tournament trails are focused solely on making a name for themselves. As they grow older, though, a lot of other things become more important to them. Read the entire InFisherman article about the changes that occur in the mind and body of old anglers by clicking on this link: http://www.in-fisherman.com/midwest-finesse/catching-fish-and-the-mind-and-body-of-old-anglers/.

Closing the Book on Another Year

I will remember the 2017 tournament season for three distinct reasons. For openers, this year marked the first time the Dewey Mullins Memorial Bass Angler of the Year competition, now in its fifth year of existence, actually turned into a genuine race to the finish line among six anglers. Claiming victory at the end, however, was Bobby Moore (right), who finished the year with 149.82 lbs. of fish.

Another reason this year will stand out is because a new record was set during the season-ending two-day Classic. The team of Wayne Hayes and Al Napier (below left) shattered the 30-lb. barrier for the first time in the Classic's seven-year history. They captured 1st place with a grand total of 32.69 lbs. of fish for the two days. This same duo also claimed the seasonal-lunker award with a 6.82-lb. bass that they weighed during our July 22nd tournament.

Also noteworthy this year was the fact that, for the first time ever, the overall average weight of our tournament fish through 17 qualifying tournaments, plus the Classic contest, surpassed the 2-lb. mark. We've been close a number of times...but that only counts in horseshoes. The final average for 2017 was 2.17 lbs.

My hat's off to everyone for making this year another one our dear ol' bewhiskered founder, Dewey, would have been proud of, had he been here to celebrate the occasion with us. Of course, I've always felt like he's with us for every tournament in spirit.

As for my personal stats, there really isn't much to report. My year-to-date numbers are 295 fish boated, with five skunks en route. Of that 295, I had 14 fish that went 2 lbs. or better, five that went 3 lbs. or better, and one that went 4-9, which I caught just two or three weeks ago.

My INT (I'll Never Tell) bait figured into some of those numbers but not to the extent it did in 2016. My most memorable experience with the INT bait this season was one early morning in West Neck Creek back in mid-summer. Through nothing but a sheer lucky cast, the topwater lure landed in a spot I normally could have only dreamed about hitting. I then let it sit still for several seconds before just barely twitching the rod tip, and the water then exploded in a bigger crash than I ever can remember witnessing any other time in my life. I set the hook as soon as I felt the fish, but the hookup was only momentary. I then watched the wake of what looked like a motorboat as it departed the scene.

I spent a considerable number of trips this year experimenting with some different baits and found a few that produced fairly well. I used a soft-plastic rig with better-than-hoped-for results during the spawn. And, too, several topwaters worked better than usual during the early springtime. In recent weeks, I've been giving the nod to a a shallow crankbait that has been yielding consistent success.

I had hoped to get in a few more trips with that crankbait this month, but with only 40s showing up for daytime highs in the 10-day forecast, it isn't likely I'll see any more action until after New Year's. And I'm not the only one looking at that kind of plan. I ran into Dave this past Tuesday when I was on the water, and he also was saying that day's trip might be his last one for the year.

This time in 2016, I just had logged my 1,000th blog post, and my blog pageviews numbered 200,000. This 2017 year-end wrap-up article marks my 1,209th blog post, and my blog pageviews now stand at more than 276,100.

In closing, I would be remiss if I didn't thank Steve for allow us to continue holding our tournaments at West Neck Marina. I also owe him and our anonymous benefactor a big "thank you" for another super cookout at the conclusion of our Classic. What a perfect way to end the season!

And finally, let me wish everyone a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Until I see you again come March, stay safe.

People Can't Even Keep a Simple New Year's Resolution...

Let's face it: People who begin each year swearing they are going to lose weight and/or to start eating healthy are a dime a dozen. The vast majority routinely fail miserably...usually in a very short period of time.

"So what," you might ask, "are the chances of someone keeping an 'ambitious' New Year's resolution?"

One might logically be inclined to respond, "About as good as hell freezing over."

As one writer I found, however, puts it, "Summoning the will, the courage, the effort, and then doing your utmost, is the noblest act a man or woman can execute. Personally, I boast a history of failures: some noble, some not so much."

This writer went on to detail that while still in search of his destiny at 21, he opted to become a tournament fisherman.

"My partner and I won our first competition when he caught the only bass on a wintry fall day. The following spring, I took first place in a two-day tournament...and spent the night in my van."

Eventually, the writer learned that fishing for money all but ruined fishing for fun, which caused him to, as he explained it, "cut short my Babe Winkelman emulations and get married, instead."

At age 23, he bought a house with his wife, they had a baby, and he immersed himself in family life and an $8,000-a-year job as an English teacher.

"I tried to supplement my income by making homemade fishing lures, which failed to sell," he said, "but nonetheless saved us a tiny bit of money when I used them for Christmas and birthday gifts."

He subsequently adapted his woodworking skills to make bigger things, like furniture, and then, at age 30, decided it would be smarter to pursue things that required use of his brain, rather than his hands.

"Eureka!" he thought. "I'll write fishing stories."

His first published piece appeared in Carolina Sportsman, followed by stories in Midwest Outdoors and Outdoor Network.

Though satisfying at first, the life of an outdoors writer meant a restricted number of topics and an even more restricted range of audiences. Accordingly, he branched out and today writes commentaries on everything from politics to dog training for newspapers around the country.

The main thing is that he's happy where he is today, despite all the many dead ends he had to endure getting there. In his words, "It is the reaching, I believe, that defines and fulfills us as human beings."

His advice to everyone: "Resolve to fail, early and often, in the New Year."

My Wish for One and All

Let us keep Christmas,

holding it close to our hearts...

for its meaning never ends

and its spirit is the warmth and joy

of remembering friends...

Merry Christmas

and

Every happiness in the New Year.

For the Week Ending Sunday, Dec. 24, 2017

Monday, Dec. 18 (from Ron)...Fished HRBT this morning from 0430 to 0630. Caught three at 18, 19, and 20 inches, respectively, so one for the oven. When I cleaned him, was surprised to see the stomach contents. I have some soft-plastic DOA shrimp lures and a hard plastic one that I may have to try next trip. Then again, the paddletails have been working, and they match the minnows I am seeing along the light lines. The weather was much nicer and a pod of dolphins were swarming around Willoughby Bay at sunrise.

Tuesday, Dec. 19 (from Ken)...Reckon you might say it was a day for the "old farts." Five of the six boats I saw on the water today had seniors at the helm. I fished from 9 to 2 and had my first hit on about my fifth or six cast, but it happened so fast I didn't even get a chance to try setting the hook. For the next couple of hours, I had absolutely no action at all. It wasn't until I decided to move above the bridge that things picked up. I ended up boating three bass, all about a pound apiece, and lost one more the same size enroute to the boat. Also caught a small pickerel near the end of my trip. Ended up once again catching all my fish on the same crankbait I've caught everything on my last three trips. The secret seems to be the 4.7:1 baitcaster I'm using, fished dead slow. Don't know when I'll get back out again--just depends on what the weather does. Would like to get in another trip yet this week, but will just have to wait and see.

A Bass Boat Is Not the Only Way To Have Fun Fishing

As a young boy, I spent my share of time fishing farm ponds in and around my hometown. Back then, though, you normally would find me dipping night crawlers. I knew what "plug fishing" was all about, but I was perfectly content with the "poor man's approach." And I can assure you the thought never crossed my mind to target a particular species. I just wanted to feel a tug on the line.

In due time, however, I learned there are anglers devoted exclusively to the pursuit of pond bass, and they take it seriously. If you're one of these individuals, you usually scope out a pond before making your first cast. You determine the key percentage spots (areas with visible cover, such as standing timber or sunken logs) and concentrate on them, rather than wasting your time fishing unproductive water.

You also check for weed lines or gravel banks because pond bass will gravitate to those types of available structure. If the pond has any type of green muck or weed growth on the surface (the nastier, the better), fishing on, under and through it sometimes will produce the biggest bass from a pond.

Likewise, you need to remember that bass move toward the warmest water they can find early in the year, which, of course, is found on north-facing banks (e.g., they get the most sunlight during the day). Be prepared to wait out the bites, 'cause while they normally are very slow at this time, most will be huge.

It's also important to understand how bass react at various times of the year. In the early spring, for example, pond bass will begin their pre-spawn migration ahead of the time when their cousins in lakes will make this move. Once the water in ponds warms into the mid-50s, it's time to start fishing jigs and jerkbaits, both of which appeal to bass, especially big ones.

Once summer arrives, look for bass around shallow cover in the early mornings and late evenings. This is the time of year to experiment with different topwater baits. Summer also is a good time to fish for bass at night. In the interest of keeping things simple, carry a flashlight, camera (with a flash), and backpack with a couple of baits and soft plastics. Worms, jigs and topwaters all work well in ponds at night. Once again, though, be prepared to wait out the bites, because the best ones often happen during the wee morning hours.

If the ponds you fish have an abundance of shad, they quickly will become your best friends during the fall months. Bass like to chase them into the backs of pockets and along creek channels. Just watch for the tell-tale surface activity, and when you find it, get your bait in the water as quickly as possible. This bite sometimes only lasts a few seconds. Good baits to try include topwaters, shad-type baits such as crankbaits, rattletraps, and soft-plastic jerkbaits like Zoom flukes. If you get lucky and catch a day when it stays overcast, with a little chop on the water, you may be able to fish topwaters successfully all day long. Preferred color schemes under these conditions are shad and black colors.

Yet another consideration for pond fishermen is to always try and walk to the water's edge as quietly as possible. The general consensus is that any vibrations you make with your feet get transmitted through the ground into the water.

And finally, there is a position held by at least some pond anglers that the colors you wear fishing can affect your success. They contend that wearing neutral colors, such as browns, grays and blacks, as well as cool colors, like green and blue, help disguise their appearance above the water. The basis for their beliefs is that bass almost always are looking up toward the surface, and if you can see them, they certainly can see you.

According to one pond fisherman, "There have been times when I was working on a fish, and I'm almost positive she wouldn't bite because she was aware of my presence."

I'm not sure that I buy this stance, but I also don't have any evidence one way or the other. What I wholeheartedly do agree with is the idea that pond fishing is supposed to be fun and enjoyable, and if you want to be successful consistently, you need to put in a lot of time and dedication.

Can't say how much time and dedication any of the anglers in the following video links put into the sport, but I think you'll agree their catches definitely prove that pond fishing can be fun and enjoyable.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=12yUZyV98u8
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-kok0TMHugk
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F5TqqHXpGjw

'Twas the Night Before Bassmas

By Brandon Card

December 24, 2012

'Twas the night before blastoff, when all through the inn

All the anglers were stirring, thinking 'bout a big win.

The lures were all tied to the Trilene with care,

In hopes that five big ones soon would be snared.

The big bass were nestled all snug in their beds,

Surely visions of our baits filling their heads.

And brother with his laptop, and I with my maps,

Had found just the spot, or maybe two perhaps.

Then out of nowhere, we both fell asleep,

Not waking 'til six when my phone finally beeped.

The sun on the edge of the sky in the east,

Gave my stomach the feeling it just might release.

Then, what to my still bleary eyes should appear,

But an empty parking lot, no boats far or near.

Away to the truck we flew like none other,

Hooked up the boat and peeled off the cover.

With both of us sweating, half crazy and sick,

I sped to the main road and the gas my foot hit.

More rapid than ever the back roads we drove,

We hollered, and shouted, as further we strove.

Past Smith Springs, the Junction and County Road Eight,

The marina was next; we were sure to be late.

To the top of the ramp! Into reverse I then threw,

"Now back it straight! Hit the gas! Park it, we're through."

As numbers were called, we sat not believing,

Our boat was next, so at last we were breathing.

So up on the waves in our Triton we flew,

Destination a bridge, to catch one or two.

And then, in a twinkling, I had the notion,

To change up our plans and fish on emotion.

As I spun the wheel left, and turned us around,

My brother looked at me, on his face a slight frown.

We were not sure at first, but soon had no worry,

The big bass were biting; we caught four in a hurry.

Jigs, worms and A-Rigs, we flung in the air,

The hours slipped by, leaving few minutes to spare.

My eyes--how they twinkled! My dimples how merry!

When the big one ate my bait, but then it got scary!

The big old largemouth was hung under the dock,

Upon seeing his head, we looked on in shock.

A big swimbait, he held so tight in his teeth,

And the A-Rig encircled his head like a wreath.

He had thick, broad shoulders, and a big round belly,

He thrashed and it shivered, like a bowlful of jelly.

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

I lurched when I saw him, and made a quick wish.

A thrash of his tail and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had much left to dread.

We spoke not a word, we went straight to our work,

Brother lunged toward the beast; its mouth turned with a jerk.

And laying both hands around its big nose,

And giving a shout, from the water he rose.

Brother sprang to his feet, and hollered "Yeah, Bass!"

And away we then flew to weigh-in at last.

And all heard us say, as we stepped to the stage,

"What a day this has been, let's see what they'll weigh!"

(Originally composed December 2011)

The Last, Best Fishing Christmas Ever

By John N. Felsher

"A week, maybe two--six months top, if you're lucky," the doctor said.

"Lucky?" the man responded. "I've never been lucky in my life. Why start now?"

"I'm sorry, but your condition is untreatable," the doctor explained. "It's too far advanced now. We can't do much for you, except give you some drugs to lessen the pain and make the last days of your life more comfortable. Any strenuous activity now will only make it worse. You should go home and rest."

"Rest? Very soon, I'm going to be resting for a very long time," the patient snapped. "What difference does it make whether I go tomorrow, next week, or six months from now? If I'm only going to live a few days, I'm going to LIVE those days. I'm going bass fishing one last time if it kills me, and I don't care what you or anyone else says about it."

Ignoring the advice of his doctor and the objections of his family, the old angler called his favorite guide service. They were booked solid...had no openings. For such a good, lifelong customer, though, they made an exception to their usual policy of closing Christmas Eve for the holiday and scheduled a trip.

"I've been a bass fisherman all my life," he told his hosts as he arrived at the fish camp on the lakeshore the evening before his scheduled angling adventure. "I've caught plenty of bass and won many tournaments, but I've never caught a largemouth weighing 10 pounds. I've always wanted to catch one in double digits, but so far, my best fish weighed slightly more than 7 pounds."

"Well, we should have plenty of action tomorrow, but this lake doesn't produce very many double-digit bass," the guide remarked. "I can't promise anything, but I'll see what I can do for you."

The next morning, the guide awakened the angler with a steaming cup of coffee. Across the lake to the east, shadowy flooded timber in silhouette began to glow with faint pink coronas as the sun lightened the horizon. Above, sparkling stars still shining brilliantly promised an excellent, if chilly, day for fishing.

"I haven't eaten bacon in years," the angler told the camp cook. "My doctor said it's not good for me, but he's not here today, and I feel lucky. Please make me a big plate full of the greasiest, fattest bacon you can find, with lots of salt and hot sauce and a biscuit with a heap of butter on it."

"You got it," the cook replied, handing him a heaping plate of hot pork.

After breakfast, the angler climbed into the boat with some help from his guide. Taping tubes to his nose so he could breathe, the guide placed a portable oxygen bottle beside the old angler. Then, the angler asked the guide to hand him a beat-up and partially rusted antique metal tacklebox.

"You won't need your tacklebox today," the guide advised. "I have plenty of baits for us to use. We'eve been catching a lot of bass on soft plastics and jigs. We'll probably do some flipping and working Texas rigs along the drops. I have all the tackle you'll need."

"I know, but this tacklebox is special," the old angler replied. "It was my father's box, and I haven't used it for many, many years. It's full of memories. Each bait in the box tells many stories, but my favorites are topwater plugs. I just love to watch a bucketmouth bass smash a lure on the surface. Even if I don't open it, I'd like to bring it along with me. It won't take up much room."

"No problem," the guide replied. "I'll just put it in the locker in front of you."

For several hours, the angler and the guide canvassed the lake, looking for fish. Burning a lot of gasoline with little to show for it, they tossed nearly every type of lure the guide could pull from his immense tackle collection.

So far, the only "catch" happened when the guide hooked the angler's oxygen hose with his crankbait while casting, nearly hurtling the frail man from the boat. After reattaching the oxygen hose, they stopped near a sunny point to eat a little lunch. Undeterred, the guide vowed he would find fish that afternoon or die trying.

"We haven't caught anything all day," the angler said. "Do you mind if I throw something from my old tacklebox? I'd like to use my favorite topwater bait."

"Help yourself," the exasperated guide replied. "We haven't had a strike all day with what I've recommended. It's not really the time of year to throw a topwater bait, but it can't do any worse than what we've been doing."

The angler pulled out an ancient, badly scarred wooden plug. Most of the paint had disappeared from it long ago, leaving only a few black flecks and discolored bare wood. Only a few threads remained where once brilliant yellow feathers streamed off the back of the popper. Rust already had consumed one of the three treble hooks and nearly closed the nose eye.

"I've never seen anything like that," the guide frowned incredulously. "That's your favorite lure? What is it?"

"It's a one-of-a-kind bait," the angler explained. "I call it 'The Christmas Special.' You see, we used to have a tire-swing hanging from an old oak tree in our front yard when I was a boy. A hurricane came one year and broke the branch off, so we lost the swing. My dad carved this plug with his pocketknife from a piece of the old branch, attached hooks to it, and painted it. Then he gave it to me for Christmas that year. We didn't have much money for toys in those days, so it was all he could give me. I haven't used it in decades, but I'd like to try it today."

The angler tied on the old wooden plug and tossed it toward the tree-lined shoreline. It plopped and wobbled, making large concentric rings ripple across the placid water before it disappeared into an explosion of foam and frosty mist.

"Got him," the angler shouted. It's a big largemouth bass!"

"Looks like 8 pounds 3 ounces," the guide remarked after netting and weighing the fish. "Congratulations. This beats your personal record. Want to have it mounted?"

"No. It has lived a long time in this lake," the angler replied. "It's close to the end of its life. Let it go to live out its last days swimming freely the way God intended it to do."

The angler threw the old bait toward the shoreline again. Cast after cast, bass smashed the lure while the guide couldn't buy a strike on anything. Eventually, the guide just stopped fishing altogether and kept the net handy as the angler caught bass after bass, releasing each one to fight again.

"This has already been the best fishing day of my life," the angler said, as the sun approached the western shoreline. "Just one more cast, and I'm done."

Once more, he tossed the ancient plug toward a grassy point. The lure sat motionless in the water for a moment, silhouetted by the sun setting directly behind it. The wrinkled hands of the elderly angler popped the lure once, and it disappeared into another frothy swirl.

Breathing and heaving heavily, the struggling angler fought the fish harder than any other bass he had hooked that day. Each time he reeled it close to the boat, the bass ripped off more line from the screaming reel. Eventually, the angler subdued it, pulling it close enough for the guide to net it.

"That's a giant bass for these waters! It weighs 10 pounds 4 ounces. I think that's a new camp record!" the guide exclaimed.

Frayed from restraining so many fish that afternoon, the line broke, and the battered lure fell from the fish's mouth into the bottom of the boat at the guide's feet. After releasing the fish, the guide turned to shake the hand of the wearied angler and congratulate him, but instead saw the man crumpled in the bow of the boat. The guide tried to revive him but couldn't, so he dialed 911 with his cellphone.

Soon, an air-ambulance helicopter, equipped with pontoons, appeared and landed in the water near the bass boat. The medics and the guide placed the angler in the helicopter, and it disappeared into the darkening sky for the flight to the hospital. At the hospital, the angler's family gathered to await the news. Shortly before midnight, the doctor came into the waiting room to summon the family.

"There's nothing I can do," the doctor explained. "He doesn't have much time left and wants to see everyone. Come this way, please."

"We told you not to go fishing," scolded the angler's oldest daughter, as he lay stretched out on the emergency-room examining table. "We knew you weren't strong enough for such a trip. We knew something would happen if you went fishing."

As the clock tolled midnight, the pale angler smiled, grasping the hand of his youngest granddaughter and squeezed. He turned to his family and said, "Yes, something did happen today; I received the best Christmas present of my life."

The author is a professional freelance writer, photographer, broadcaster, and information consultant with more than 2,500 bylined articles in more than 150 magazines to his credit. 

I found this article in Bass Angler Magazine (https://bassanglermag.com) and obtained permission to reprint it from Mark Lassagne, creator of this popular seasonal publication. Born and raised in California, Mark is a skillful professional angler, outdoor writer, promoter, and top competitor on the western tournament circuits.

Another Big 'Un Gets Away

How many times do we all have to make such an admission? The unfortunate reality is that it happens a lot more often than any of us like to acknowledge. The worst part of all is that it never gets any easier. And, too, we usually have no one to blame but ourselves.

The frustration being displayed by the angler in this photo represents what you might expect to be a typical response from anyone after losing a nice fish. However, that wasn't the case with a couple of fellas I read about online recently.

Their story started while they were having a so-so day on the water. Suddenly, though, the wind picked up and the tide turned...and so did their fortunes. They subsequently went to a point that now had both the wind and current pushing on it from across a weedy flat.

The front-seater tied on a fresh swimbait and made a long cast toward a grass patch on the point and almost immediately had a strong hit. He set the hook hard, and a behemoth, ticked-off largemouth went screaming past the boat into deeper water.

"It easily was the biggest fish I'd ever hooked to date," said the angler, who yelled to his partner to get ready. After a brief tussle, he guided the fish alongside the boat, where his partner waited on his knees, with his big hands poised to snatch her from the water.

"She's way over 10, 11--maybe even 13," said the partner, as he grabbed her jaw and leaned back, with the "pig" in his hand.

At this point, both anglers were screaming at the top of their lungs, but then the fish started shaking her tail really hard, which caused the partner to begin losing control. Moments later, he fell overboard, still holding the fish. He surfaced in a few seconds and grabbed the gunwale with one hand, while spitting water and yelling for his buddy to "come get this gosh darn fish!"

The buddy got to him just in time to get a loose grip on the line between his hands and feel the fish shake her tail a couple of times before the line went limp. His 20-lb. fluoro had been tested to its limits without his ever having a chance to touch the big fish. Neither did he get to take a picture or weigh her.

As the partner finally climbed back aboard the boat, both men started laughing hysterically. "But why was this situation so funny?" you're probably asking.

The angler who never got a chance to touch his prized catch explained it this way: "Here were two dumb fishermen who got outsmarted by a big green fish with only a pea-sized brain--pretty funny, I'd say. On the other hand, if we had gotten the fish in the boat, high-fived, weighed it, and taken photos, all we would have had was just another big-fish story."

Curiosity May Have Killed the Cat...

but this largemouth dodged that bullet when he got a little too nosy for his own good around a beaver trap. According to Jay Kumar, in his latest issue of BassBlaster, "A bass-head caught it (by accident of course), released it, and said it swam away fine." Too bad fish can't talk...I'd love to hear the story this one probably would tell.

Bad Day for My Partner, Funny Day for Me

All bad fishing days don't end with an angler filling his bass boat full of water like you see here. There are lots of other ways to finish on a sour note.

Consider, for example, the angler and his partner who were fishing a spring bass tournament. Their practice day hadn't gone very well, and now they were facing a miserably cold and windy day, which up to the midway point had left them totally scoreless. They had decided to run back toward the launch area, where the water was even rougher than what they just had been fishing.

In no time, both fellas were soaked and complaining about the conditions. Nevertheless, the angler on the front seat kept throwing a baby brush hog and suddenly hooked into about a 5-pounder. His partner jumped off the rear deck and netted it. Moments later, though, the fella on the bow turned around and found his partner about 4 inches from his face, staring at him. "What the heck are you doing?" asked the guy on the bow.

"I just about knocked myself out getting your fish," responded the partner.

Turns out this big guy (weighing about 260) missed the step between the seats and dove headfirst into the seat pedestal. The fella in the front seat still was laughing uncontrollably and looking back at his parnter when, bam, he hooked another bass, followed quickly by two more. In a period of about 10 minutes, the duo had gone from zero fish to four nice keepers in the livewell.

Figuring that things couldn't possibly get much more crazy than they had been thus far, the front-seater was sitting there, gazing at his hapless partner, when he saw him rise about 6 inches off the seat. Simultaneously, he heard a "whoosh!" sound. Seems the partner had sat on his Sospenders, causing them to inflate--and giving the front-seater yet something else to laugh about. What a day!

New Boat Ramp at Pungo Ferry Landing Park To Be Bigger and Better

Come late January or early February, when the new ramp is expected to open, boaters are in for a real treat.

As explained in an email from Susan Topping, Park District Supervisor, the new 42-foot 9-inch-long slab will accommodate boats ranging in size from 26 to 29 feet, or nearly double the size of craft the original setup could handle. (Don't know about the rest of you, but I can't help wondering how that increased length compares to the ramp at Munden Point Park. If anyone knows the answer, would you mind sharing with me?)

I'm also assured that the 24-7 hours of operation will continue, and everything still will be free to the public.

Those who have lived around here a while undoubtedly are more than a little familiar with the wind tides we have. We know the disastrous effects a strong northerly wind, especially a prolonged one, can have on the water level. With this new, longer ramp, however, accessibility should be enhanced dramatically. The way I see it, this is the biggest benefit of all.

As I was duly reminded, though, there are some concerns beyond the new ramp at Pungo Ferry that are worthy of everyone's consideration. For example, trash, including glass, is routinely strewn around the ramp and parking areas, especially during the summer months. Thus, there is the possibility of someone damaging your trailer by carelessness or downright intent. It also was revealed that the Virginia Beach PD regularly drives through the Pungo Ferry parking lot, issuing tickets for such things as no current trailer inspection, etc.

Another matter you need to be mindful of is the stretch of water you have to navigate once you leave the ramp area and make that hard left turn, leading to the North Landing. There are shallow spots in that stretch, along with some underwater obstructions. My partner and I found one of those obstructions during Day 1 of our Classic tournament this past October. It only amounted to a minor bump, but I made a mental note of its location: near the middle of the channel.

One final thing I was reminded of that I want to share in this setting is that a hole appears to have been created where the Munden Point ramp ends underwater as a result of anglers powering their boats onto drive-on trailers. The only time this hole ever seems to come into play is during extremely low-water conditions, when a few single-axle trailers have been known to back off the end of the ramp. Getting them back on the ramp proves to be a major chore. Twin-axle trailers, on the other hand, never seem to have a problem launching. However, it's in everyone's best interests to understand that, just because you get your boat off the trailer with no problem, you're not necessarily home free. Extremely low-water conditions can result in a bass boat grounding in the Munden Point channel leading out to the North Landing. I'm personally aware of two anglers who have suffered that fate and only overcame their situation, thanks to their trolling motors.

The smart boater is an informed boater, which is the reason I'm passing this info along. Be careful out there, and get back safe and sound.

Oh Please Bring Back My Boron to Me

Some recent Internet research turned up a story about an angler who, when he was much younger, lucked out by finding what was considered the holy grail of fishing tackle at the time--a boron rod at a ridiculously low price. He found the rod at a store that was about to go out of business.

"To this day," he said, "I am giddy over that purchase. Why shouldn't I be? I got a Rolls Royce for the price of a bicycle. Boron rods, at the time, were 'members only' jackets of the fishing world."

Best of all, that rod caught the angler a lot of fish. "Sometimes, I wondered if the rod was even crafted by human hands at all," he noted. "Perhaps it was left by aliens who were watching from afar, conducting a bizarre experiment to see how a bumbling human would react to their advanced technology. In retrospect, I wonder if it could have shot lasers or somehow transported fish out of the water into my waiting hands, if only I had been smart enough to figure out how to harness its full potential."

The angler truly cherished that rod as though it was his only child. He even polished off his fingerprints after every outing, and he never let anyone else touch it--until, that is, the day he met a girl whom he was crazy about. She, too, liked to fish, and he decided she was the only human on the planet worthy of sharing a trip that included his precious magical fishing wand. This was the perfect storm: The girl of his dreams, along with the rod of his dreams, on the same fishing trip. He wondered if the rod's powers and luck maybe would extend beyond the realm of fishing.

That special day started perfectly. They reeled in one big fish after another, admired each one briefly, then released it. In his delirium, though, the young angler did the unthinkable. He let the girl of his dreams use the boron rod, and she proceeded to catch a fish--the biggest one of her life, as it turned out. Wanting to celebrate the moment, she offered to go to a store and buy a couple of cold beverages. He stopped her, though, saying he wanted to pay for the drinks.

Laying down the boron rod, he took out his wallet, handed her some money, then smiled at her, as she got into the car, turned it around, and headed for the store. Too late, he realized what was about to happen. He only could watch, seemingly in slow motion, as she ran over his precious boron rod. "Noooooo!" he wailed pathetically...loud enough to be heard in the next county.

Not knowing what she had done and probably more than a little freaked out by hearing a grown man scream like that, she slammed the car in reverse and started backing toward him at the speed of sound--backing squarely over the boron rod a second time!

The young angler just fell to the ground beside the shattered rod...and dreams...lamenting this horrible, sadistic twist of fate. "Why couldn't she just have run over me instead?" he wondered. "It was all over. The mojo was gone. I just knew I never would catch another fish again. I never had felt such rage and betrayal.

"This woman deserved a fate worse than death. There was no choice. She HAD to be punished for committing this unspeakable act...so I married her. She has been paying for that rod for the last 25 years...and neither one of us could be happier about it."

Frozen Rod Guides--Way Too Cool

Earlier today, I was out running some errands, and by the time I got home, I noticed some ice had formed around some of the sides of my heat pump, as well as on top of a big, green, neighborhood electrical box located in my backyard. Can't say why, but those sightings triggered a flashback to the days when I lived in northern Virginia and fished Lake Anna a lot. Many was the day I would spend nearly as much time chipping ice from my rod guides as I would actually fishing. Haven't experienced that annoying phenomenon down here in southern Virginia, but then, I usually stay home on really cold days now. It's not because I've gotten any smarter, but more accurately, I simply know I'm going to lose any battle I wage with Uncle Arthur. He (or more precisely, it) brings me to my knees faster than Dad did the first time he ever showed me how to "milk the mouse." 

One of the biggest concerns of wintertime fishing is ice. When water freezes in and on your equipment, it can cause a couple of problems. For starters, if your reel's worm gear gets iced, it can cause a backlash. The most common problem, though, is persistent icing in your rod guides.

In the words of three-time Elite Series champion Jason Christie, "As frustrating as all this is, I've never really figured out a way to completely eliminate icing. I've sprayed my guides with everything from WD-40 to silicone sprays and line conditioners. I tend to prefer the conditioners, but I think the best you can do is just minimize the icing."

Micro guides have become really big in the rod industry, and they can be helpful in various applications, but consider this: The smaller the guides the quicker they'll freeze up. Accordingly, Christie carries rods with standard-size guides when he knows he'll be fishing in freezing temperatures.

"They're the same length and power as my micro-guide rods," he said, "but they'll give me a little less trouble with icing. I still can fish with micro guides in cold weather, but if I know I'm going to be fishing freezing temperatures for three to four hours, I'll go with the standard guides."

Something else to keep in mind when fishing in cold weather is what baits you'll be using. When fishing a crankbait, for example, you're constantly dragging line through the guides and leaving water on them, so they freeze up faster. The same is true when you fish a swimbait. On the other hand, if you're throwing a jerkbait, you'll be twitching the rod constantly, which keeps water from settling in the guides and freezing.

Christie thinks some of the toughest winter fishing can be shallow waters of river systems like the Red and Arkansas Rivers. "They're tough," he said, "because the water is brutally cold, and a lot of times, it's off-colored. Also, it's hard to navigate the shallow fisheries because you're bundled up and fighting stumps. You still can catch fish, but it just makes it harder to get around."

One other concern Christie has in freezing temperatures is his boat hatches freezing shut when he's on the road. For that reason, he takes precautions to keep ice off the deck, starting with the fact he travels with a cover on his boat. If moisture gets on his deck, he dries it off as quickly as possible. He also props the hatch lids open a little at night.

"Just don't make the mistake I made once," he said. "I came out to my boat one winter morning and found my hatches frozen shut. I tried pouring hot water on the lid edges, and that helped a little, but the morning was so cold that the hot water actually froze, which doubled my problem."

Christie further pulls the drain plug after a cold day's fishing to let the water run out, then replaces the plug. "There's always a little trickle of water coming from the drain hole after you've gotten most of the water out," he explained, "and if you leave the plug out overnight, you might have a problem with ice forming in that drain hole.

"Winter's tough enough as it is," he concluded, "without making it any more difficult."

If you're interested, here's the link to a video that you may find helpful: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-oO-YHGkjaA.

Anything Can Happen on Any Given Day on the Water

I think most anglers would agree with that statement. One who I'm certain agrees is Zell Rowland.

"The king of topwater," as he's often dubbed, recalls an incident from back in the days when pros drew fellow pros to fish with during tournaments. He and the pro partner, whose name he had drawn, were preparing to fish an event on Sam Rayburn Reservoir in Texas out of Rowland's boat.

"I had a fancy Suburban, the kind with a small-screen TV and other amenities SUVs had back then," he said. "I had cut a deal to make rod straps for boats, and part of the deal was that I would get an enclosed boat trailer (similar to what you see in the above photo) to use for an entire season. Now this trailer was an interesting concept I liked a lot. Part of the roof hinged up, just like the trunk of a car. It kept your boat, motor and tackle dry all the time. The trailer also made it easy to keep your boat clean."

As Rowland explained, you backed this trailer down the ramp just like any other trailer. Recovery, though, was like driving your boat into a box. His partner only had seen one of the enclosed trailers a time or two thus far.

 After a good day on the water, Rowland just had pulled near the launch when his partner asked if he could drive the boat into the trailer to see how hard it was. Rowland gladly agreed and started opening the two back doors, as well as the little front door for reaching inside and tightening the boat winch. Then he backed the trailer into the water, and his partner drove the boat inside. While Rowland reached in and tightened the winch, his partner asked if he needed to crawl through the front hatch, but Rowland assured him that he could just stay seated until they had reached the tie-down area.

Rowland was starting back up the steep (80-degree angle) ramp when he suddenly heard a "pop" and felt the load lighten a lot. He looked into his rearview mirror to see the trailer rolling back down the ramp.

"It must have been moving 20 or 30 miles per hour when it hit the water," said Rowland. "The 'pop" had been my safety chain breaking. I've never had a time when I felt more helpless. This was a tandem-axle trailer, with four tires full of air. The walls of the trailer were insulated with foam, so when the trailer with the boat inside hit the water, the whole thing immediately floated 15 or 20 yards from the ramp. It continued to float farther away as I got out of the Suburban and ran to the water's edge."

While Rowland contemplated what to do, his partner still was in the trailer wondering why Rowland had stopped so suddenly and backed him into the water again. Finally, he poked his head over the side of the trailer. Realizing what had happened, his eyes got real big and he hollered that he was going to jump.

"Don't even think about it!" Rowland shouted back, as he fought the idea of his boat sitting on the bottom of Sam Rayburn. By this time, three or four guys had gathered nearby and were rolling in the dirt laughing.

"I didn't think it was funny," said Rowland. "That was my trailer, my boat and motor, my livelihood floating helplessly out there. How long it could stay afloat I had no idea."

Rowland eventually backed his truck down the ramp, then yelled for his partner to trim the motor down a little and drive the boat and trailer back toward him. With the help of those jolly guys on the bank, he slid the tongue back into the trailer. One of them had an extra pin, so before long, things were good to go.

As a result of that incident, Rowland decided he never would have an enclosed boat trailer of his own, and he made good on that vow, but not before another misadventure occurred. He was driving down the highway one day when he felt a bump, then glanced out the window to see a wheel rolling past his truck. His first thought was that the wheel had come off another car, but that was before he checked the sideview mirror and saw sparks coming from his trailer.

A year later, the enclosed trailer was gone, along with all the troubles it had caused him.

If Not for Better Ratings, Then What?

As I watched the local TV weatherman last evening, I couldn't help thinking that the station must be going through some kind of ratings period. I say that because, for several days now, this guy has been talking about weather predictions 10 days or more out, whereas he usually just discusses weather projections for the next couple of days. And last night, he was using all kinds of lines, colors and you-name-it, hinting that we could be in for some dastardly (my word, not his) conditions for the next week and a half, perhaps even including some snow and/or mixed precipitation before all is said and done.

This morning, I decided to compare what he has been saying with what The Weather Channel is predicting, and about the only similarity I could find was in the temperatures we can expect the next 10 days or so. There are several occasions when our daily highs are supposed to top off in the 40s.  Granted, that's colder than I like to see on the high end, but that's what it was when I hit the water yesterday morning, and I didn't suffer while I waited for the thermometer to climb into the 50s. Just don't see why the weatherman is making a fuss.

However, I'll bet you there will be those "warm weather" bass fishermen who probably will run to get their boats winterized and tucked away, along with their rods and reels, until the spring thaw. It's not necessarily that they believe you can't catch fish when the mercury starts falling--most of 'em know better. Rather, it's just that they have a hard time believing the anticipated rewards justify the extra effort that will be required of them. After all, the reminders are everywhere about how the metabolism and, hence, the feeding mood of fish dwindles once the water temperature reaches the upper 40s.

This slowdown, however, won't make a bit of difference to a lot of anglers. Here are links to some examples that prove it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gUfipILwQWY

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2vans7T9ukc

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K3K1roUxw8k

For the Week Ending Sunday, Dec. 10, 2017

Monday, Dec. 4 (from Ken)...Having followed the weather forecast for several days and seeing predictions for windy conditions tomorrow, coupled with a chance of rain, I decided not to gamble and went to the river today. Fished West Neck from 8:45 a.m. to 2:15 p.m., catching a total of seven bass and losing two more that came unbuttoned on the way to the boat. Five of the bass today were dinks. The other two weighed in at 1-7 and 3-5. All of the fish fell for the same crankbait I've used the previous two outings. The one thing I found a bit puzzling today was the fact that the 3-5 had a bloody tail and other signs you would expect to see on a fish that just had spawned. Early December seems just a tad late to me for that kind of activity, but I suppose anything is possible. (UPDATE: I asked the local VDGIF fish biologist Chad Boyce about the possibility of that 3-5 being a spawning fish, and here is what he said: "Not only is it highly unlikely that a bass is spawning this time of year, but I would wager it is simply impossible. Bass cannot just decide to spawn and lay eggs. There must be a time for gonadal development and gonadal maturity prior to spawning.  I think sometimes people forget that water temperature is not the only que that triggers fish to spawn. Day length and light acuity is just as important as water temperature. I'd guess the fish you caught was simply on structure or habitat that caused it to rub its fins.") The only other fishermen I saw today were Dave and Rob, who also were fishing West Neck out of Dave's boat. They indicated they had found a few fish early this morning, but that as the day wore on, their bite seemed to go away.

Thursday, Dec. 7 (from Ron)...Been searching for the stripers, but odd hours have kept me from doing an update. This morning was eighth straight day at HRBT. All week, I've been catching the incoming tide, with very early morning launches (0200, 0300, 0400, etc.), then struggling through work. Most of my catches have been slot shorts, but a few keepers were in the mix. Got a nice 22- and 23-incher this morning, and they were healthy. Must have found a roving school as I caught five between 0550 and 0615, then it shut down with no taps for another hour. Going to be a long month, but I love the way they slam the lure and pull the drag. Due to the tides, will now shift back to evenings and catch up on some sleep!

Sunday, Dec. 10 (from Ron)...Tried Friday night with the sleet-like rain, cold and wind. North wind made for an easy enough transit, but around the bridge was unsafe in the kayak. I bailed after 10 minutes...before the hypothermia took hold. Sat was a complete wash. Went Sunday night, and the weather was better. Caught five with one little fat keeper. Sometimes they are fat with full bellies, but this little fella had seriously thick fillets for his size. Oh, and it was a bit chilly last night!

154 Christmas Gift Ideas

While digging around the Internet this morning, checking out some info for a potential blog post, I happened upon the 2017 Bassmaster Christmas Gift Guide. If you're looking for some nice (and I don't mean dorky) gift ideas, this is the place to go. By just clicking on arrows at the bottom left corner of a photo like the one above, you will be taken through 154 fantastic fishing-gear ideas you can drop on your family and friends this holiday season. Here is the link to get you started: https://www.bassmaster.com/gear/slideshow/2017-bassmaster-christmas-gift-guide.