The year was 1973, and a fella (named Don) was fishing Lake Millwood in southwest Arkansas. The conditions there at the time was described like this: "The weather was hot, the water was hot, but best of all, the lake was really hot. When you found the bass, it was one after another, cast after cast."
Don said, "All my life, I had fished with a Zebco spinning reel. However, earlier that year, my friend, George, had dragged me kicking and screaming into the world of baitcasting reels. Having grown up casting right-handed and reeling with my left, I had a lot of trouble adjusting to the traditional right-hand baitcasting reels. Earlier that week, I had broken down and bought a new Ambassadeur 5100C (left hand) reel and a new rod to match. I don't recall the price, but at that time, it was a lot of money for me."
Don went on to explain that he and his friend had taken the 60-mile trip to Lake Millwood, towing the friend's 16-foot Ranger with an at-the-time "monstrous" 115-hp motor. The friend was introducing him to the lake.
"George told me to tie on a black worm with a blue tail," noted Don. "Then he dropped the trolling motor and found one of his hotspots: an old creek bed about 7 feet deep."
"You go first," said George. "Just throw it on the other side and slowly let it fall into the creek."
Don did as he was told and immediately felt a small tap, then nothing. The line went limp, so George told him to "set the hook hard."
He did and subsequently thought he was hung up. As Don relaxed, the fish pulled back at least as hard as he had set the hook. In an instant, the rod and reel were gone...jerked completely out of his hand by an offended, irate largemouth the size of which I only had heard about. The fish did a victory leap right in front of them, as if to say, "I win this one, sucker!"
Soon the water was calm, with not a ripple. The air temperature was nearing 100, "and I'm sure my blood pressure was nearing 200," said Don. "I wanted to cry...my brand new rig was gone after just one cast."
In case you're wondering, the story doesn't end here. It actually gets better. Turns out George had brought several backup rigs.
"Here, tie on some of these and try to snag the line or rod," said George, handing him some Mudbug lures (see accompanying photo).
They had to pull these baits really fast to get them to dig the bottom of the creek, and George finally hooked something. While it wasn't the missing rod and reel, it was a nice 2-pound bass. Soon after, Don also hooked a fish about the same size, and for the next 10 minutes, they both sat there pulling in bass...all nice fish, but nothing like the one that had gotten away earlier.
Suddenly, though, the bite turned off, and George speculated that the rod had been dragged too far away for the Mudbug dredging to work. Not wanting to give up just yet, Don made one more cast with the diving lure and got hung up in the process. George then maneuvered the boat over closer to get the bait back.
"As I picked up the line with my hand," said Don, "I felt a vibration and a slight pull. I started reeling again and found my Mudbug hooked to another line. In sheer excitement, I grabbed the line and started pulling it in, completely forgetting about the fish. I was too busy thanking George and whoever else was within yelling distance."
Soon, Don had hold of the lost rod and felt the weight of a totally exhausted 7-pound bass on the end of it. They figured the fish had looped the line around something and fought until it had worn itself out.
As Don explained, "I don't think there is a moral to this story, except maybe that good things happen to unworthy people occasionally. I still have the reel...some 36 years later...in a place of honor in my garage. I turned the big fish loose, but the others we caught made great fillets."
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