What a Way To End the Year!

That's how Jared Kiernan must have felt today after catching the 14.2-lb. bass in this photo from the bank of Lake Camanche in Northern California.

According to the story as found on Wired2Fish, it was the surprise of a lifetime for this angler who had fished the lake seven straight times without a single bite. Then at 12:30 p.m. today, as he was getting in a few hours on the last day of the year, K-A-B-O-O-O-M! this beatuty smacked his Baitsmith Magnum Trout swimbait.

Kiernan was just bottom bouncing the bait from the bank when this personal best hit.

Angler for All Seasons Calls It a Year

I'm talking, of course, about my kayaker buddy, Ron Ameika. Just received his year-end stats, along with a fishing report for today, and thought I would give it and him some special treatment.

After all, this is a guy who really does fish anywhere, anytime, in all kinds of weather--bar none. I can't tell you how many times I've received fishing reports from him on days when you couldn't have paid me enough money to go fishing..in your boat, even, let alone mine.

That's just the kind of fella Ron is. It likely comes partly from the fact he's a retired member of the Navy's special operations community, but he also loves to fish, and he further likes to help others. I still remember the winter he came to my house and shoveled all the snow off my driveway and wouldn't take one red cent for doing it. That's what I call being a real shipmate.

Click anywhere on this chart for a bigger version.

In his emails to me today, Ron (left) said he had closed out 2019 with a trip to Ashville Bridge Creek, where he caught two dink bass, a small 15-inch slime dart, and a nice 2-14 bass (see top photo) that, to borrow his words, "made my day." He went on to explain that his number of trips this year was way down, mostly because of too much business travel, but he said, "I still caught some good ones."

He also expressed hope to increase his number of outings next year.

In 174 trips during 2019, Ron paddled 495 miles, encompassing 443 hours and 30 minutes. That compares to 261 trips in 2018, when he logged 882 miles, encompassing 708 hours and 44 minutes.

I can't even begin to imagine what that much paddling in a kayak would do to my gimpy left leg. I think a bank worker the other day thought I was having some sort of meltdown while seated in a chair with very limited leg room between it and her desk. The pain was causing me to resort to desperate means to find a little relief, and the look on her face told me that she was beginning to have some doubts about what was going on with all my gyrations. However, I digress.

Getting back to the focus of this item, I have to hand it to Ron for his dedication to chasing fish, regardless of species, and in all kinds of weather. He indeed is a special breed.

The Mylar Minnow--Sure Hope My Supply Lasts

As I was throwing a few lures together Friday night for a Saturday trip to the water with Dave, I happened to remember some knockoff lures a good friend made for me some years ago. He called them the "Mylar Minnow."

The friend I'm talking about is retired kayak fisherman extraordinaire Charlie Bruggemann. In the accompanying photo, he's doing a show-and-tell video, demonstrating how to make the Mylar Minnow.

Charlie is one of three anglers whom I consider among the "smoothest" amateurs ever to grace the fishing world with their stick prowess. I've watched him in his many YouTube videos, as well as on the backseat of my boat. His efforts always reminded me of pure poetry in motion...he would feel a bite, just raise the rod top, and the fish would be there.

Dave is another angler to make such an impression on me. He's good with every lure in his arsental, but for me, it's the way he handles soft plastics that really makes my day. After spending a whole tournament season with him, I truthfully can say I never once felt the slightest movement in the boat when he set the hook on a fish with a piece of soft plastic. I would see the line moving off, and then, at just the right instant, he likewise would just raise the rod tip and claim his prize.

The first fella who really got my attention with the way he handled a fishing rod (and is one of the three "smoothies" I referred to earlier) was my late Uncle Cleve. Even with those old level-wind reels like he used back in the day, this southpaw made it look nearly effortless to cast a lure a country mile. On many occasions, I watched in awe as he nearly would sling a bait from one bank of the Neosho River to the other.

Don't know how many folks followed Charlie's kayak-fishing adventures, but anyone who watched his YouTube videos knows that he caught a lot of fish with that Mylar Minnow that he assembled, using Vision 95 knockoffs. After my renewed success with it Saturday, I was hoping Charlie might still have a few he would sell me. Unfortunately, though, he doesn't, so I have to protect the three which I have left in my tacklebox. As he explained when I asked, his efforts these days are limited primarily to wildlife photography and putting together plastic models. He admitted to also doing a bit of fly-rodding from the bank during nicer days, but that's the extent of his fishing now.

Incidentally, for the benefit of anyone who would like to see the Jan. 10, 2014 video Charlie put together about how to make the Mylar Minnow, just click on the following link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XVEmtsc5KWk.

Oh, and guess what I learned during my trip Saturday with Dave. He has some skills beyond handling a fishing rod, too. He happened to mention to me that he also ties his own feathered treble hooks. I don't need any more of these hooks at the moment, but you can bet one thing: When I do, his door is going to be the first one I knock on. Surely he'll cut me a better deal than you'll ever find when buying feathered trebles off the shelves of any tackle store out there.

For Week Ending Sunday, Dec. 29, 2019

It doesn't take rocket science to figure out cabin fever already is sitting in when the parking lot at West Neck Marina is filled to capacity the Saturday after Christmas. I fully expected to see some duck hunters and fishermen when I got there at 8:30 this morning, but nothing like what greeted me. And in the time it took me just to throw a couple of rods and boxes in Dave's boat, three more boats launched ahead of us. Can't say I blame anyone who turned out for a little fishin' today, 'cause the day was indescribably gorgeous. The fog I heard predicted on last night's weather forecast never materialized, and with only 5-10-mph winds, you simply could not have asked for anything better. Talked to one fella first thing this morning who fished Wednesday and told me that he had nine bites and caught eight fish, including a couple in the 3-pound class. He went again today, but I wasn't able to get a report. In any event, immediately below is one report I did get via email, along with how the day turned out for Dave and me.

Saturday, Dec. 28 (from Ron)...I returned to familiar fresh water for this beautiful Saturday morning. Fished Milldam from 9 to 12:00 and caught 10 bass. The majority were in the 11- to 13-inch range, and I got one decent fish that gave a decent tug. Micro spinner and U-Vibe worms were the ticket. Stumbled onto one small chain pickerel and was surprised there were not more. Trolled around the Beetlespin but couldn't find any panfish.

Saturday, Dec. 28 (from Dave and Ken)...I was sitting in one of my comfy chairs yesterday when the cellphone rang, and I subsequently heard Dave invite me to join him for a trip to West Neck this morning. As I told him when we met up this morning, he must have been reading my mind, 'cause that's exactly what I was thinking about at the time he called. We started our day above the bridge, but when the water didn't clear up, and the fish wouldn't bite, we decided to check things out in the other direction. The bite still was extremely slow, but we managed to put four bass in the boat before we decided to investigate what Pocaty had to offer. For openers, it was the best-looking water we saw all day. And our decision paid off with 10 more bass before we called it quits about 3 o'clock. Of the 14 total, about half would have been tournament keepers. As far as we're both concerned, the day was well worth our investment of time. Truly enjoyed every minute of it. And more importantly, the edge has been removed from our cabin fever...at least for a while.

A Fisherman's Night Before Christmas - Take 2

By George Welcome

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

All the bass were a studyin' 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 'uns danced 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 'uns, 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."

A Fisherman's Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,

Not a creature was stirring, not even a moss mouse;

The rods were hung in their racks with great care,

In hopes that next spring soon would be there.

The children were all nestled snug in their beds,

While visions of new crankbaits danced in their heads;

And Ma in her kerchief, and I in my bass cap,

Had just settled in for a long winter's nap.

When out on the pond, there arose such a splatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter;

Away to the windows, I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of new-fallen snow,

Gave the luster of mid-day on the bass down below;

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature Ranger all packed full of gear.

With a little ol' driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick;

More rapid that Rat-L-Traps, his courses they came,

As he whistled and shouted many baits names.

Now Zipper! Now JJs, Now Ragetail and Jitterbug!

On Pop-R! On Spinnerbait! On Senko and Mudbug!

To the back of the pads, where the big bass will fall,

Now cast away, cast away, cast away all.

(A variation of the story "Account of a Visit From St. Nicholas," by Clement Clarke Moore, 1779-1863.)

My Holiday Wish for Each of You

Whatever is beautiful.

Whatever is meaningful.

Whatever brings you happiness.

May it be yours this holiday season,

and throughout the coming year.

A Military Story for the Holidays

The military's 24-7-365 environment demands that someone always be on duty, wherever the duty station may be. As demonstrated by the following story, however, there are some at the top of the military chain of command who unselfishly put the needs of their people ahead of their own, especially during the holidays. One such officer, as related in this Dec. 21, 2018, account by CNBC Contributors Editor Vanna Le, is retired four-star Marine General James Mattis. Here is Ms. Le's story.

James Mattis (left) long has been viewed as a legendary figure in the U.S. military. One particular story, told in a 2003 ethics lecture organized by the Center for the Study of Professional Military Ethics, perfectly explains why former staffers saw Mattis as a "cult figure."

In 1998, now retired General Charles C. Krulak had been preparing for an annual tradition in which he delivered hundreds of Christmas cookies to post guards. On Christmas Day, at around 4 a.m., Krulak headed to Virginia, to the command center at Quantico. Once there, he asked the Marine lance corporal who the officer on duty was.

"Sir, it's Brigadier General Mattis," the lance corporal answered, as Albert C. Pierce, a director at the ethics center, explained at the lecture.

"No, no, no. I know who Gen. Mattis is. I mean, who's the officer of the day today?" Krulak persisted.

"General Mattis," the Marine lance corporal repeated.

A short time later, Mattis appeared, fully dressed in his uniform, complete with his sword. Krulak then asked the seasoned military leader why he chose to be on duty.

As Pierce explained: "Gen. Mattis told him that the young officer who was scheduled to have duty on Christmas Day had a family, and Gen. Mattis decided it was better for the young officer to spend the day with his family."

"That's the kind of officer that Jim Mattis is," Krulak later said.

Those who worked for Mattis recount many similar examples where he put his team's needs ahead of his own. In his book, "One Bullet Away," former Marine Captain Nate Fick describes his experiences while in combat in Afghanistan and Iraq.

"No one would have questioned Mattis if he'd slept eight hours each night in a private room, to be woken each morning by an aide who ironed his uniforms and heated his MREs," he writes in the book. "But there he was, in the middle of the freezing night, out on the lines with his Marines."

Mattis' actions are a timeless reminder that even the toughest leader can embrace compassion. In fact, "Mad Dog" Mattis was known to caution leaders not to let their passion for excellence destroy their compassion for their subordinates.

After all, as Mattis once explained, our ability "to build trust and harmony" is as critical as our ability to execute any task.

Recollections of Christmases Past

"Christmases can be stressful, but the memories are good--well, mostly." That's how one woman--Beth is her name--remembers the holidays. Read her full account below.

In the week before Christmas, people stress out. They practice deep breathing but still lose patience--and the bag with the scotch tape.

People drive a mile for mall parking, only to squeeze into a narrow, motorcycle-sized space. Will the car door scrape the one next to it? The clink of metal on metal says yes.

In the days before Christmas, the wreath on the door sags, and the tree gets tired of standing at attention over the gifts. It shifts to one side, resting its weight on a fir foot.

The stockings aren't hung by the chimney with care anymore, the way they were when children emptied them. They drape the coffee table, empty and worn.

By Christmas morning, we'll put on the old familiar tunes, open the presents, sweep up the tree droppings, and put away the leftovers.

We'll read over the cards again and wonder about those we didn't hear from this year. At a certain age, we worry about the writers, those who've been loyal for decades. We have pictures of their children, who now have children of their own.

We have decades of long-distance connections made possible by the U.S. mail and Hallmark.

And when the day is over, what will stick with us, aside from the five additional pounds around our middle? Once Christmas present becomes Christmas past, we look back and remember the holidays that are chronicled in photo albums, on video cameras, and now, on smart phones.

I remember a Christmas when everyone got the flu, including out-of-town guests, but not at the same time. The caregivers eventually swapped places with the patients, so there was always somebody available to wash towels and serve soup and bathe fevered brows. The rule was that two people had to be on duty at the same time. We muddled through it.

I remember a Christmas caroling party a neighbor used to have. Guests drank mulled wine and sang carols, even the ones who thought Christmas was a commercial ripoff. The more they drank, the louder they sang, which is the way with these things.

I remember years of standing in line at toy stores, so I could get the gift at the top of my children's list--some with flashing gizmos, or a game that all the kids wanted, or some doll that cried or drank a bottle or wet herself (and why is that fun?).

A few months after Christmas, the doll lay crying on the rug in the den, and nobody paid her any attention. The Christmas bikes leaned against the side of the house, like tired horses waiting for a rider.

I remember my son in the church Christmas play, his scuffed Nikes sticking out from his long shepherd's robe. I remember my grandchild 20 years later, wearing a wooly lamb suit and wagging her sheep tail down the same church aisle.

And I remember a visit to a children's shelter one Christmas Eve, where the staff stayed ready in case a family might be brought in from the cold, suffering from poverty, neglect or harm. I remember the people waiting quietly through the night. I left that place knowing that was the whole point of the holiday.

For the Week Ending Sunday, Dec. 22, 2019

Monday, Dec. 16 (from Ron)...With the temps in the 50s, had to get back on the striped bass. Fished HRBT from 7 to 8:30 p.m., and even though the chop was horrendous (2-3 feet from every direction), the bite was GREAT! These stripers are eating very well and are plenty fat. Landed eight, and each one was bursting at the seams! The 26-incher gave me an awful rudder wrap, and I had to struggle to the beach, land, untangle, and still got him on the stringer. My line was wrapped around my rudder about six times--a real mess. Would be nice to be able to keep two each, but only one is allowed this season.

Ever Been Lost on the Water?

If you have a GPS unit, the likely answer to that question is no. But not everyone has one of those units, which makes it important that you make sure you always have a cellphone at your disposal.

I still remember an incident from way back in 1977, when I first started fishing the North Landing River and its tributaries. I had decided to check out Milldam Creek for the first time. Come the end of the day, I wrapped up all my gear and started idling my way back to the main creek. In no time, I found myself making decisions that only led to deadends. Fortunately, I heard the hum of an outboard that I knew had to be running the main creek, and I just started following the direction from whence that sound seemed to be coming. I eventually started seeing things I remembered from the trip in and soon was on the main creek, headed for the launch ramp. For a couple trips afterward into that same area, I used fluorescent ribbons to mark the winding turns, so I wouldn't get lost again.

Today, I was reading about a couple of summertime anglers who had gone fishing together at an unfamiliar lake. After a morning that had produced a couple of fish for each, they decided to start home before the heat became unbearable. They, too, couldn't find their way to the boat ramp at first and had to drive around until they found the right cove, which had the ramp they had used to launch their boat. Turns out they burned more gas finding the ramp than they had used to find fish.

Pro bass angler and outdoor writer Tom Lester offers the following tips:

"It is always important to familiarize yourself with landmarks when going out on the water, especially if you're making your first trip. A boat house, a large rock at the mouth of a creek, a peculiar looking tree, or anything else you can use to mentally mark your location is always a good idea.

"With the technology of a GPS, it's a good idea to mark a waypoint at the ramp before heading out on the water. I know I've used mine to help me find the exact location of the boat ramp after a long day of fishing on a new lake. These units have become more affordable and user-friendly over the past few years.

"In the event you do become lost, the first thing to do is to stay calm and not panic. Most lakes will have some place you can stop and ask for directions, such as a marina or another boat dock. You also can ease up to someone else on the water and ask for directions. Most people are more than willing to help you out.

"Finally, it is always a good idea to carry a cellphone with you in the boat. This can be a lifesaver in the event of an emergency. I have known more than one individual who had to use their cellphone to call for help after witnessing an accident on the water or being involved in one themselves."

As for the two anglers who got lost on an unfamiliar lake, they fortunately had enough drinks and cigars to help pass the time until they found their way back to the ramp.

Bad Luck Comes to All Who Fish...

And, yes, that includes kayak anglers. Just ask Adam Riser, an accomplished kayak and tournament fisherman.

As reported for Wired2Fish by Jason Sealock, "Riser was floating on a river this week with friends and fishing some laydowns. He got a bite while his line was over a log, set the hook, and the flipping bait and hook, along with tungsten weight, loaded up and 'sling-shotted' like a bullet into his mouth. He subsequently pulled his hand away from his mouth, and it contained blood and teeth fragments."

"I've dodged dozens of lures coming back at me," said Riser, "but I never even saw this one. My buddies' faces had horrified looks when I glanced at them with chunks of teeth and blood falling from my mouth. Still had an hour of the float left. Since it wasn't hurting me, we stopped and fished a few holes before loading up."

Noted Sealock, "I gave him some grief about it and said, 'Dude, I love that part. No need to pass up a good stretch on account of a few missing teeth.'"

The victim replied, "Those smallmouths aren't going to catch themselves."

Riser's two front teeth are completely gone now. "As awful as it looked," he said, "it was relatively painless for some reason. I'm just glad it didn't hit my eye or temple. Definitely could have been worse. I'll look into some new teeth after the New Year. In the meantime, I'm going to be a toothless bum for the holidays."

With thanks to Jim B. for sending this item to me. It reminded me of a trip I once made to Lake Anna while stationed at the Pentagon. Was launching my boat on a really steep ramp early one morning. I had left the winch strap on and was using it to inch the boat down the incline when the handle suddenly got away from me. A couple of quick spins later, it whacked me square in the mouth. Didn't lose any teeth but had some knocked loose, which I promptly shoved back into place as best I could, rinsed my mouth out with some lake water, and went on fishing. Don't mind telling you my mouth was sore by the time I quit that evening. However, I was back to normal a few days later.

Deny, Deny, Deny...

But in the end, my conscience nearly always wins, and the latest episode has proven to be no exception.

It all started back in September, when we fished four Saturdays in a row. My schedule of cleaning up the boat mid-week of the following week after each trip suddenly got up and took a hike.

I found myself taking only a cursory look at the sides, maybe wiping off a little bit of scum line, then standing back and saying, "Ah, that isn't so bad." At that point, I'd throw the cover on it and call it good. The trouble is that this breakdown in routine quickly became the new norm. I was repeating this scenario trip after trip...until my conscience started working on me. The truth is I knew from the beginning of the collapse in routine that, sooner or later, I would have to get back on my old schedule...or pay a price for being so slipshod about cleaning up my "toy" after a day on the water.

That day of reckoning came yesterday. My wife took off mid-morning to go to an event of her choosing, and I soon found myself sitting and stewing about my boat. I tried walking it off, but it persisted...so I grabbed the vacuum and case of oil I recently purchased online and headed to West Neck Marina.

Before going any farther, let me share a little piece of advice for anyone who hasn't been to the marina in recent days. The parking lot is full of holes--big ones, in some cases--starting at the entrance, so as you turn in, be careful, especially when all the holes are filled with water as they are now. And the trip down, around to the ramp, and back up the other side isn't any better. The same also is true of the area up beyond the gate. I swapped texts with Gene yesterday after I got home, and he indicated he's working on the problem. Unfortunately, though, he evidently is having some issues with his boss, which leads me to believe that it may be a spell before anything gets done to the parking lot. I have a plan I'll only execute if nothing has been done by spring; however, I'm not even sure the problem can be allowed to persist that long. I'm not kiddin', folks; the situation is B-A-A-A-D! If you don't believe me, be my guest and try making a high-speed entry--with or without a boat tied on behind.

That situation aside, however, I maneuvered a winding path to my boat shed, whereupon I threw up the door, removed the boat cover, and took a long, hard look at how bad it was. Moments later, I had the vacuum plugged in and was busy going over every square inch of the carpeting. Once that was done, I grabbed the Bass Boat Saver and started going over the entire hull. The only thing I didn't get done was wiping out the bottom of the storage box I use to hold my oil. I would have had to pull the boat partly out of the shed to gain the necessary working space, and it was too late in the day to do that. Subsequently, I left my new case of oil sitting on top of the box until I get another chance to wipe out the storage box.

Best part of my whole day was when a couple of friends showed up to "bat the crap" for a spell. Gary hadn't much more than found me, 'til Dave drove up and joined in the conversation. One topic of interest to all of us was the aforesaid current condition of the parking lot. We also talked about fishin', of course, boat props, and choices of doctors, to name only a few. Not one of the three of us has been on the water for a spell, so there were no tales to be told. Just wait 'til spring, though--it'll be different then, I promise.

In any event, at the end of my day yesterday, I felt relieved that I had eased my conscience, and the boat indeed was clean again...for how long, however, is anyone's guess. You can be certain that if I get a chance to go, I likely will, but I'll also allow time to clean up the boat again before I call it a day. Don't like wrestling with that feeling of having something I know I need to do. It has a way of not letting you rest.

For the Bass Fishing Enthusiast in Your Life

If you still haven't found anything for your favorite angler, you might check out the ideas offered at the following link: https://www.bassmaster.com/gear/slideshow/2019-holiday-gift-guide. When you get there, just use the arrows in the lower left corner of the photo like the one above to maneuver through all the different items. Happy Shopping!

Breathing New Life Into His Ranger

That's what Wayne Hayes has been doing for the past several days, and he's now ready to share some of the results of his hard work. It should be noted here that the photo at right is from a few years back, when Wayne and his Region 7 tournament partner at the time, Mark Ingram, were just returning to the boat-launch area at Munden Point for a weigh-in.

Wayne's current project is a complete re-do of his Ranger's interior--new seats, new console, new carpeting--in short, the whole works. If one thing can be said about this guy, whom I've known for a lot of years, is that he's "anal" about everything he does...and I'm not just talking about his own things. He's that way with everyone's property when he's working on it. He treats everything as if it were his, and I can't speak for anyone else, but I personally never have gotten that kind of service from a dealer--anywhere!

I still cringe every time I think about the way Norfolk Marine "once" screwed me on repairing a rig they had sold me. After waiting just a tad longer than they had told me the repairs would take, I walked into their shop to find my outboard in pieces (without ever first obtaining my OK), and a price tag I still would have been paying on had I not told them they had just inherited the boat back. And then they had the audacity to try and sell me another rig. You undoubtedly can guess what I told them. However, I digress.

Getting back to Wayne, who is and always will be my boat mechanic from now on, here's a pictorial look at some of what he has been doing to his Ranger in recent days:

(For a bigger size, click anywhere on this photo combination.)

As you can see, the job isn't done, but one thing is certain: When it is done, it'll be "picture perfect." Said Wayne this morning, "My hands are really sore, but luckily, I haven't cut them yet." Here's hoping his luck holds.

2020 Dewey Tournaments To Be About Change for the Benefit of All

Two of the best sticks in the local area--bar none--will be running things this next season. I'm talking about Wayne Hayes (left) and Rob Peppers (right).

Preliminary discussions between the two of them have been ongoing for a while now, and they already have locked in some new rules for this tournament year. For openers, there will be boundaries on where everyone can fish. Those limits will extend from the Centerville Bridge to Munden Point, including Milldam Creek. This change is designed to bring back some of the small boaters we've lost over the years who were at a distinct disadvantage, trying to compete with anglers who could run farther distances.

There also will be some Sunday tournaments integrated into this year's schedule. The idea here is to give those anglers who sometimes have to work Saturdays a chance to participate more frequently and perhaps lead to more people earning eligibility to fish the annual season-ending two-day Classic.

Tournament dates and some other details still are being worked out and I'm told likely will be promulgated shortly after the new year arrives. I'll post everything as it becomes available.

I, for one, am looking forward to the 2020 season and what the new leadership brings to the table. The way I see it, the playing field just got a lot more level, which should be to everyone's liking. Hope to see ya round the ol' dock in front of the West Neck Marina Store real soon.

Incidentally, my only involvement this year will be as admin assistant to the two leaders. I'll keep them supplied with whatever paperwork they want or need, continue my reporting of all the tournament results on my blog, and maintain a contact list of participants. If you're interested in being added to my list, just provide your name and email address to me at: kenneth34@cox.net.

In the meantime, Tight Lines! to one and all.

For the Week Ending Sunday, Dec. 15, 2019

Thursday, Nov. 12 (from Ron)...Was way too windy for me to hit HRBT--has been for days now. Opted instead for the slight wind protection of Rudee Inlet at 0300 this morning. Was rewarded with five stripers at 20 to 21 inches, plus one at an even 24 inches. Oh, yes, it was very cold and windy! Love catching those stripers, though. They fight very well.

Anything Worth Doing Is Worth Doing Right

I've lived my whole life with that philosophy, and it has served me well. Let me share an example of what I'm talking about.

A friend recently sent me the photo of a local fella holding a bass that "allegedly" topped the 9-lb. mark. Supposedly, the fish had been caught in West Neck Creek. [12/12/2019 Update: Learned today that a couple of local veteran anglers saw this fish firsthand the day it was caught, and they estimated its weight at only 5+ lbs.]

After looking at the photo, I had a couple questions: What kind of scales were used to weigh the fish? and "Did the angler take action to obtain a state citation for his catch?

The answer I received to my first question was "just a pair of scales he had in the boat." And I was told the angler had rejected the idea of pursuing a state citation. Why? I don't have a clue.

This whole situation sounded half-baked, and I subsequently decided not to post the picture on this blog because, among other things, I felt it likely would create more questions than it answered.

For the sake of comparison, consider this example of a different big-bass story that another friend brought to my attention yesterday. Wired2Fish editors did the report in this case. The text described angler Kenta Kimura as catching a 15.65-lb. (7.1 kilograms) bass from Japan's Lake Biwa. It also was noted that the fish had fallen for a Strike King 10XD crankbait in pearl/black splatter with chartreuse color scheme. The text concluded with the fact the 10XD is a 6-inch crankbait that can dive to 25 feet.

The accompanying photos complement the facts, which demonstrates what I mean by "doing things right." You don't need to be so specific about "just another bass," but when you're talking about a potential citation, it calls for a little extra effort.

Aw, Man! Don't Tell Me There's Another Tournament

I feel certain that's a familiar refrain among some guys and gals alike, who, after a long, hard work week, headed to the local fishin' hole on Saturday or Sunday to unwind and have a little fun, only to find the parking lot jammed with tournament fishermen's rigs. I certainly remember how I felt back in the day, when I was in their shoes.

Similarly, I've also had to answer my fair share of emails, texts and phone calls from fishing friends and acquaintances the last several years, while serving as tournament director for the Dewey Mullins Memorial Bass Tourney Series. Their nearly universal question of the day: "Is there a tournament this weekend?"

If my answer was "yes," they knew they had to make a choice. Do I wait 'til later in the day to go--after the tournament folks have weighed in and departed? Do I try someplace else? Do I wait another week? Or do I just say "to heck with it" and go forward with my plans and take my chances on finding a place to park? "Not exactly any good choices"--I think we all can agree.

As I was researching the Internet a few days ago, "though" (a word that very well may live in infamy, as a result of the current presidential impeachment proceedings), I discovered another option that, in at least a few cases, may be viable. It came from a New Hampshire fella, who described himself as "the amateur angler."

Seems this fella, his brother, and nephew had gone to Stumpfield Marsh, a part of the Henniker Flood Control area in Henniker, NH, to do some bass fishing. All three were excited about the trip until they arrived at the boat launch and found that a bass-fishing tournament already was in progress.

"After a brief discussion," said the amateur angler, "we decided that the bass fishing today wasn't going to be so good, because most of the lake already was being hammered by bass fishermen. The simple solution for us was just to switch gears, and instead of fishing for bass, we decided to fish for crappie."

That decision proved to be even better than they ever could have envisioned. Said the amateur angler, "While we could see bass fishermen shooting off cast after cast, without bringing anything into their boats, we were landing fish after fish after more fish. The crappie were extremely active, and we didn't really venture too far from the boat launch, either. We launched at 8 a.m. and immediately started catching this scrappy little fish, and we didn't stop catching them until we got off the water at 6 p.m.

"When we reached the cove, we stopped for lunch, and then we spent the next three hours there, catching more crappie. They were so abundant that, during one 15-minute period, my brother and I never made a single cast. All we had to do was drop 5 feet of line over the side of the boat, and within seconds, we had a crappie on the line."

They weren't using anything fancy, either. As the amateur angler explained, "We had ultralight rod-and-reel combos, with 4-lb. test line and 'old faithful' lures, consisting of only 1.5- and 2-inch white twirl-tail grubs on 1/16th- and 1/8th-ounce jig heads."

To borrow the amateur angler's words, "I hope you, too, have the opportunity to go crappie fishing and have as much luck catching this wonderful little fish as we did. Just remember: Good company + good fishing = great memories." I think we all can agree with that final analysis.

Reminds me of a nice fall day several years ago, when I was working my way along the shoreline in the shallow back stretch of a creek, catching one bass after another, including a nice one right near a stand where some deer hunters were perched. The one gent subsequently said, "Sure wish I was with you, instead of being up here." I offered him a ride, but upon seeing the look his buddy was giving him, I decided to just kept moving along. Have no desire to be in the middle of a dispute between a couple of guys holding guns in their hands.

Most Interesting Tournament Ever

A little more than a month ago, we lost Jerry McKinnis (left), a legend who long will be remembered, among other things, for his writings. The following article from July 20, 2011, is one of them I uncovered earlier today, while doing some Internet research. If you have a funny bone in your body, you'll likely get as big a chuckle from this story as I did.

By Jerry McKinnis

In all the years that there have been bass-fishing tournaments, and with all the thousands who have participated in them, it's kind of bold of me to say that I participated in the most interesting bass-fishing tournament that there ever was. I can't prove it, but you can't prove that I didn't.

Have I got your attention yet?

The year was 1969, and the site was Lake Eufala in Alabama. It was among the first handful of events that B.A.S.S. ever had put on, and the lake was fairly new and unknown to most American bass anglers.

Like most events back then, you would spend 7 or 8 days practicing and competing and never have I ever walked away from a B.A.S.S. event with so many stories--ones that I would tell the rest of my life.

In those days, we probably had 100 or so pro anglers competing and the same amount of co-anglers. Don't remember the entry fee, or even the purse, for that matter.

Do remember that those were the days you could bring in 15 bass, and Blake Honeycutt, truly one of the first gentlemen to ever bass fish, won the event with 2,000 pounds. Actually, it was only 138, but I saw most of his fish, and it looked like 2,000 pounds to me. Because of the 15-fish limit, Blake set records that never will be broken.

My roomy at most B.A.S.S. tournaments was a kid by the name of Bill Dance. I guess we were in our late 20s or early 30s, and Dance was really good. We buddied up for the first couple of Bassmaster years, and so help me, we should have, or still should, write a book about those times, because every day was an adventure.

We were practicing together the first day on Eufala, and we discovered that this was not your run-of-the-mill bass lake. Found several schools of fish where every cast equaled a 5- or 6-pound bass--yes, every cast.

But now we're out on this ledge in 10 or 12 feet of water, have had a few hits, and Bill catches a fish in the 10-pound range. He's hurrying to unhook and release it, because there's another competitor moving in to see if we're having any luck. It's an old friend of ours, Jim Talley from Little Rock, and, of course, he wants the skinny on how things are going.

Here's the problem, though. I was in the front of the boat and had cast my Creme Shimmy Gal (that brand will take you back a few years) worm out on the ledge as Bill was releasing his big fish and he whispered to me, "Get your bait in." Then he told Jim, "Pretty slow."

"I can't get my bait in," I whispered back.

"Why not?" Bill asks.

"Cause a fish already is running off with it."

Dance whispers again, "Well, don't jerk on him."

I reply, "Don't need to jerk, 'cause the darn thing has swallowed my worm, and he's running under the boat."

So, picture this: I'm in the front of the boat looking forward and acting like my bait is way out in front of me on the bottom. Jim Talley is looking at my back, but having a conversation with Bill, who is telling him fishing is only so-so and continuing to whisper to me.

Blake Honeycutt (left) won at Eufala, while Bill Dance
took second.

The boats now are about 20 feet apart, and right in the middle of Billy Boy's little white lie about the so-so fishing, an 8- or 9-pound bass clears the water between the two boats, with a Creme Shimmy Gal worm in its mouth.

I'm still looking forward like my bait is out on the ledge and only turn when I hear the splash. I honestly don't know what happened from that point on, but I'm sure it was embarrassing, like most of the things that Bill Dance and I got into, both on and off the water in those days.

What great friends we have been through the years, which brings me to the point where I say, "Yes, the Eufala tournament was the greatest, and I must tell you more about it, but not today.

Brought up Eufala as an excuse to talk about a completely different story.

I think the early B.A.S.S. days were fabulous, and I'm afraid that those times and the stories might be getting away from us.

So, Bobby Murray, Ken Cook, Guy Eaker, Guido Hibdon, Tom Martin, and Rick Clunn agreed to team up, come to Toyota Trucks All-Star Week and be a part of the first "Bassmaster Legends Tournament."

I know we missed several legends, like Paul Elias, Larry Nixon, Roland Martin, and Hank Parker, to name only a few, but we started small so we could watch it grow the following years...to three teams in 2011 and 20 teams in 2012.

These anglers need to be recognized. This event and just having them around will make a special week even better.

Jerry McKinnis with Day 2 catch from
Lake Eufala in 1969.

Last week, Steve Bowman, the man who got the Legends event going in the first place, asked me if I would fish on a team. "Good night, no!" I answered. "Besides, that would make an uneven number of anglers.

So, a few days went by, and Bowman tells me that he's been talking to Bill Dance about fishing in it, and Bill also turns him down but comes back with, "If McKinnis fishes, I'll fish with him." I thought about it for awhile, and here's what I came up with.

First of all, I would be a little embarrassed, because I'm not on the same level as the ones who have committed. But then I thought about Lake Eufala and the likes of Blake Honeycutt, Ray Murski, and Jim Rodgers, who were there but don't fish much anymore. I also thought of my and Bill's great friend, Tom Mann, and many others who were a part of Eufala but are not with us anymore.

Like I said at the top, Lake Eufala Bassmaster in 1969 was the most interesting ever.

My old roomy, Bill Dance, and I are probably the only two left from that week who are still right smack dab in the middle of the bass-fishing world, trying our darndest to make it better.

Of course, I'm going to fish the Legends event.

While reading this account, I was reminded of an incident that occurred this past summer (2019), when Dave and I were enjoying a fun day on the water. I had just caught one that would have gone 5+ when Dave looked up and saw a couple of boats coming. "Hurry, Ken, and release that girl before the guys in those boats see it," said my buddy.

Winning at All Costs--That's the Name of the Game

The average weekend warrior likes to win a bass tournament as much as the next guy, but very few of them are willing to resort to the extreme measures demonstrated by at least some of the pros. When it comes to high-stakes fishing, professional anglers will do almost anything to get to the fish, and that includes abusing their equipment.

After all, who can forget the incredible images that emerged from the 2013 Alabama River Elite event? Pros David Walker and Jared Miller stole the show by putting their equipment to the ultimate test.

Both anglers found fish stacked in the rapids below Jordan Dam, and they, as one reporter phrased it, "went through hell and back to get to them." Take a look at the accompanying combination of photos above (top, David Walker; bottom, Jared Miller) and see for yourself.

They weren't alone, either. On Day 1 of the Alabama River event, Tommy Biffle ran an estimated 60 miles and burned 46 gallons of gas, then tried to climb up over two shallow waterfalls in his Mercury-powered Ranger. "I made it over the first waterfall, but the second one got me," lamented Biffle. "The prop was still on there, but one big rock knocked the lower unit clean off," he continued.

Believe it or not, Biffle was able to return to fishing, thanks to a couple of well-respected marine-service technicians who drove all the way to where he was stranded and installed a new lower unit.

There also was a 2009 event on Lake Dardanelle when Mark Menendez (left) beat a 17-foot G3, armed with a 90-horsepower Yamaha engine, into unsalvageable condition after three days of competition. Did I mention that he had borrowed the boat from a good friend?

"Nothing can replace my Skeeter," said the then-44-year-old Menendez, further noting, "it's the finest fishing boat I've ever owned. But in this case, it wouldn't fit into the culvert (where I wanted to fish). I was forced to choose an alternate form of transportation. Besides, no matter what boat you're in, you have to catch the fish to win. Thankfully, I did."

While it paid off, this veteran pro was taking a huge gamble with his unique approach. It took him nearly an hour each to get to his spot and return to the weigh-in site, and he estimates that he only fished for 10 hours over the three days of competition. Furthermore, with cold and windy conditions throughout the tournament, the ride was far from pleasant. And on the final day, Menendez had to move rocks and other obstacles out of his way to reach his honey hole.

"I was 100 percent committed to aluminum this week," he said. "The thought flickered through my mind to go back to my comfort zone, but I knew that the only shot of getting to that area was the smaller rig."

His "do or die" efforts paid off with a three-day total of 55 pounds 7 ounces, which was good enough to squeeze out a victory over his nearest competitor, Kevin VanDam, who had 53 pounds 4 ounces at the end of the third day.

As noted in one Bassmaster report, "While these were some of the more extreme incidents, the fact is that many lesser problems occur on almost a daily basis. Let's face it: In tournament fishing, stuff happens. With so much riding on the results, boats become nothing more than a means to reach the fish. Trees, shoals and other boats aren't the only obstacles encountered. When the water's high, and the fish are back in the woods, you can bet the pros will follow them. They'll use their boats like all-terrain vehicles, grinding up flooded brush as if it were soft milfoil.

"Then there are manmade obstacles, like bridges and culverts," the report continued. "Perhaps you recall the B.A.S.S. event on Kerr Reservoir where Randy Blaukat removed his seats, windshield and engine cowling, then pulled the plug on his Ranger so that it would take on water--all so he could pass beneath a low bridge and into a flooded creek. The maneuver required considerable time, effort and ingenuity, but it gave Blaukat a win."

Although the average angler never would put his equipment through these situations, he or she realizes a benefit from it in the long run. Said Bassmaster, "It's our field testing that makes the end product more reliable and durable."

Tournament Fishing--It's All About Having the Right Attitude

That's the take of  Bill Wilcox (right), host of Honey Hole All Outdoors, the premier trophy bass-fishing show of Texas. He goes on to explain, "It requires going the extra mile, doing whatever it takes, to the extreme, or whatever you want to call it.

"In practice, I launch my boat before daylight," he continues. "When I get to the ramp, 99 percent of the time, I'm the first one there. And I'll usually be the last one to load up. I've even gone so far as to get to the boat ramp at the end of the day, notice someone still out, and continue to fish in the area until they load up. If you don't need your running lights at both the beginning and end of your practice day, then you're not doing your best."

This veteran hard-charger tells of a B.A.S.S. Top 100 he fished in Mobile, AL, in which he burned 62 gallons of gas...on just the first day of practice, no less.

"I launched at daylight and didn't get back to my motel room until 8 p.m. that evening. The bass I found that day allowed me to make the top 10 cut.

"In a Honey Hole team tournament on Richland-Chambers," Wilcox continues, "I found a good school of bass that I believed I could win the tournament with. I was afraid someone else would locate them, because in these events, you can launch at 4 a.m. from any public ramp. It took a lot of extra effort to make sure we were the first ones to the spot, but it paid off. We didn't see another boat until 5:45 a.m.

Then there was a couple's tournament on Lake Tawakoni a few years back, when the water was more than 5 feet low. Wilcox knew this would make the lake fish very "small," because most of the docks were high and dry. As a result, he went about locating fish at an out-of-the-way area.

"About a month before this event," he notes, "I went to a creek that had held bass in the past. I knew I couldn't reach the spot I wanted with my Champion, so I went as far as I could, then waded into the creek to find a deeper channel. After wading in the muck, sometimes up to my waist, I found a slightly deeper area and marked it. I later came back with a 16-foot aluminum boat, got a good running start, and tried to jump the boat into the creek. I spent the next five hours stuck in the mud, but I wasn't going to give up yet.

"I went back a few days later with a high-school kid, who wanted to earn a few bucks, and we used shovels to dig a channel 200 yards long. During the second day of our digging, my friend, Ben, showed up in an aluminum boat with a Go-Devil on the back. He went right in around me and never had to get out of his boat. That was a good lesson for me. There's always a better way. You just have to keep an open mind."

Wilcox rethought his strategy and borrowed a 14-foot flat-bottom that was easier to push. When he and Ben returned to the lake before the tournament, though, they found it had dropped another 6 inches. That dictated more digging (about six hours' worth) to make the creek accessible, but that wasn't all. There was a huge tree jam about a half-mile farther up, blocking the way as well. It took a couple hours with a chainsaw to clear that obstacle and create a passage into the creek. The two then went to the ramp closest to this creek and dug it out for easier launching.

Even though neither one ended up winning the couple's tournament, Wilcox and his friend, Ben, did make a respectable showing. Wilcox and his daughter finished second, and Ben and his wife finished fourth. Both teams had limits each day.

This may sound like a lot of effort for a tournament, but it demonstrates the "going the extra mile" Wilcox spoke of earlier. "Doing whatever it takes to try and win will make you a more successful tournament angler," he says.

For the Week Ending Sunday, Dec. 8, 2019

Tuesday, Dec. 3 (from Ron)...Fished this evening and caught one bass on a 3-ft. diving crankbait. Tried upper North Landing, vicinity of the culvert, in hopes of finding some stripers, but only got this 1-12 to avoid the skunk. Tried jerkbaits, topwater and a 3-ft. diving Berkley crankbait.

Wednesday, Dec. 4 (from Ron)...Went in search of those bass with stripes in the upper North Landing last evening but didn't find any. Normally, I can find a few, but here lately, they seem to have run off or just are not biting. My consolation was a lone bass that hit the trusty ol' XTS Minnow. Didn't weigh it, but I would guess about 1-5.

Friday, Dec. 6 (from Ron)...Went in search of striper at the HRBT from midnight til' about 0200. Had non-stop action, with some nice drag-screaming pole benders, plus something for the skillet. Didn't even put the gloves on; weather was perfect, and the wind died down, leading to almost glass-calm conditions by recovery time.