My Wish for One and All...

May this holiday not just be filled with good food but with an endless supply of health, happiness and good fortune.

"Your Roots Are Showing"

Tell a woman that, and you may get decked. But since I'm talking about West Neck Creek here, I don't reckon I have to worry about anything like that happening.

All kidding aside, the sad reality is that the creek again looks like someone hooked a giant vacuum to it. These persistent northeast winds have done it yet one more time.

I was scouring the boat ramp at West Neck today when my good buddy, Charlie Bruggemann, joined me with a couple of his cameras. We talked for a spell, and Charlie shot some stills and video of the dire scene in front of us (tried to email the video a little earlier to the whole tourney gang but noticed that it was too big a file for some of the mailboxes). While he was doing that, I went back to checking out the ramp for souvenirs and found a couple: a quarter and a ziplock bag full of sinkers. I also discovered an old wood screw--one with about a 3/8-inch diameter and probably about 1.25 inches long. I pocketed the quarter and dropped the other stuff in the nearest trash can.

Bottom line: If you're thinking about hitting the local water anytime soon--at least, while these northeast winds continue--I think your best choice, probably the only choice, is the ramp at Munden Point Park. And if it was me, I wouldn't even head there until I had called first. UPDATE: Forget trying Munden Point, too. As of this morning (Wednesday, Nov. 21, 2012), I learned that a couple friends tried to get out there yesterday, and while they were able to launch, the water beyond the ramp was so shallow they had to put the boat back on the trailer and go home. The only other possible option you MAY have is Bob's Fishing Hole on the Northwest River. Again, though, I would encourage you to call first.

For your viewing pleasure, here are a couple more photos of the current water conditions (all courtesy of my friend, John Goodman, who also was at West Neck today).

 

Incidentally, I'm a confirmed believer now: The West Neck ramp really does end at that last post on each catwalk. The water was shallow enough today I clearly could see the tip of the concrete.

 

Epilog: I knew if a person could get out under these conditions, catching fish would be like shooting 'em in a barrel. Consider this report I just got at 3:25 p.m. today, Wednesday, Nov. 21, 2012, from my kayaker buddy, Charlie: "Water was up about 6-8 inches today but still very low, just like I like it. Had a great day. Beat my record for the year with a 4-7. Total bass caught 17. They were hitting mostly shallow cranks but would take most anything. All fish were in the channel... just like we discussed yesterday." Enough said.

The Future of West Neck Marina

The family of the late-Dewey Mullins has decided they cannot continue management of the marina. For a few more days or perhaps a few more weeks, though, patrons may occasionally find some of them available to help you on a limited basis.

The owners have indicated to me that they have no plans to sell the marina. Instead, they are hoping to find a new manager. In the meantime, if you're like me and store your boat at the marina, you're encouraged to keep paying your monthly rentals by mailing them to the facility. The address is as follows: West Neck Marina, 3985 West Neck Road, Virginia Beach, VA 23456.

On a final note, I have every hope of continuing what will be known as the "Dewey Mullins Memorial (vice Tribute) Bass Tourney Series" in 2013. Additional information on this matter will be forthcoming as we get closer to the February/March timeframe.

I hope this information helps answer some of the questions I've heard from different ones since Dewey's passing.

Epilog: As of 9 a.m. Monday, Nov. 19, 2012, the marina owners told me that people can use the ramp at West Neck Marina, even when no one is around to accept their money. Always check first at the store, though, because the owners also told me they are taking steps to get this situation covered.

Up the Creek and Around the Next Bend

Up the creek and around the next bend,

Lies a honey hole, my friend;

It's filled with big bass,

Down deep in the grass--

It's well worth your time to spend.

 

Up the creek and around the next bend,

Is a submerged log without end;

Bubba lives there,

In his usual lair,

On that, you can depend.

 

Up the creek and around the next bend,

Oh how I pray for a little wind;

"It moves the water,

"But is no bother,"

My friend said, as he grinned.

 

Up the creek and around the next bend,

An old duck blind needs a mend;

It's seen better days,

In so many ways--

Or so I contend.

 

Up the creek and around the next bend,

Are many boats every weekeknd;

Their goal is one:

Catch fish and have fun,

That's why I always attend.

 

Up the creek and around the next bend,

A row of stumps mark a bank's deep end;

Gotta watch your prop,

Or it'll go plop,

And some cash you'll have to expend.

 

Up the creek and around the next bend,

Folks often lunch and talk friend-to-friend;

So don't be a turkey,

And go gettin' quirky,

Just take a break and blend in.

 

Up the creek and around the next bend,

On Granddad's old spot we descend;

Looking for a trophy,

The one he named Sophie,

To hang on the wall--I recommend.

 

I have no doubts that readers will recognize the fact that I built this poem after Lydia Maria Child's famous Thanksgiving poem, "Over the River and Through the Wood."

Are You Ready for the Next Stateline Open Tourney?

It's a week from tomorrow--Nov. 24, to be exact. That's the word from Mark Ingram, club president, who reminds everyone that fishing hours will be from 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. The cost is $25 per boat, plus a $5 ramp fee, and the launch site is Bob's Fishing Hole.

Anglers shouldn't have another "Hurricane Sandy" to deal with this month. Even with those conditions, 21 fishermen in 13 boats showed up to fish the October tourney. For anyone who doesn't remember, the first- and second-place winning weights were 11.05 and 10.90 lbs., respectively, and the big fish was 3.25 lbs.

Good luck to one and all.

'Twas the Day Before Christmas 2012

Dedicated in memory of my good friend, Dewey Mullins.

 

'Twas the day before Christmas in the year two thousand and twelve,

But nary a basser yet was ready to stow his gear and sit for a spell.

So what if the nights were getting so cold it made your old bones ache,

And God help you if you weren't extra careful when hitting a wake.

 

The stores were all crazy with last-minute shoppers galore,

Climbing o'er the top of one another and creating one heckuva roar.

Meanwhile, all we could think about was finding ol' bubba,

C'mon, fellas, what are we waiting for? Hubba-hubba!

 

Out of West Neck we in our bass boats did all fly,

Snugly bundled up under that dark threatening sky.

We knew it'd be a miracle if we didn't get wet this day,

That's why I reckon we first decided just to gather and pray.

 

Some turned north out of the creek, while others went south,

With one thing in common, though, and that was a closed mouth.

After all, none of us were looking to catch a death of cold,

Even if we perhaps were a bit foolishly bold.

 

From Cow Creek to Milldam and points much farther beyond,

We hit 'em with everything, but only dinks did respond.

And, then, just as frustration was beginning to sit in,

We felt that dreaded moisture start hitting our skin.

 

It started as a light mist, but soon changed to sleet,

Then came snowflakes--Oh, boy! I thought, now we're replete.

With that saying about the "worst day fishin'..." running all through my head,

I went digging through my tacklebox for something that had a little red.

 

Ahhh! Maybe this red-craw crankbait will do the trick,

So I hurriedly grabbed it and tied it on my St. Croix stick.

Chatterbaits, spinnerbaits, suspending jerkbaits and much more--

I'd tried 'em all but hadn't found a decent keeper heretofore.

 

Having just checked my watch, I realized that time was running short;

If I was gonna catch bubba, this crankbait likely would be my last resort.

Cast after cast, I rapidly fired toward the shoreline,

In my feverish effort to boat a big 'un before the approaching deadline.

 

Just as I was thinking all hope for the day certainly must be gone,

I caught glimpse of a swirl, indicating a sizable fish I just had happened upon.

Wheeling and casting in what luckily was one succinct motion,

The bait barely had landed when the water erupted like an ocean.

 

Running hither and yon, this fish definitely had a mind all of its own;

Nothing I did resulted in the slightest amount of slowin'.

Oh Roland, oh Bill, oh Denny, Jimmy and Woo,

What should I do to tame this ornery "Shamu"?

 

With dexterity, he darted from one stump to the next,

Testing my reel to see if it met all of its specs.

Then, in one wild, head-shakin' leap to gain its freedom,

I realized this fish wasn't going to gain me any stardom.

 

Bubba he was, but bass he definitely was not,

That mouth full of teeth told me why the battle was so hard-fought.

Call him bowfin or grindle--whatever you like,

The way I see it, he might as well have been a pike.

 

Unhooking the critter, I tied things down, then headed for the barn,

Where I knew I'd catch plenty of razzin' for this ridiculous yarn.

But what the hey? It was Christmas Eve, and all across the land,

People would be celebrating, 'cause another holiday was at hand.

 

Up North Landing River, I went at full bore,

I was gonna make weigh-in, even though I wouldn't score.

Eating sleet mixed with snowflakes all along the way,

I couldn't help feeling like it had been one mighty long day.

 

I just had throttled back, as I headed to the boat basin,

And was catching my breath, 'cause I knew I no longer had to hasten.

When over the low rumble of my trusty ol' Yamaha,

I thought I heard, "Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!"

 

As I turned an eye skyward and peered through all that gently falling blanket of snow,

I'd swear I saw a sleigh with 8 tiny reindeer and a fella in a red suit shouting, "Ho! Ho! Ho!"

All of a sudden, it no longer mattered what kind of razzin' I'd have to withstand,

'Cause what I'd just experienced was simply nothing short of grand.

 

Merry Christmas! Happy New Year! Tight Lines! to one and all,

Enjoy this beautiful season, and have yourself a ball.

In all things, though, please keep safety at the ready,

And whatever you do, don't let that bubbly go to your ol' "heady."

Hook, Line & Sinker...

 

With today being the predicted last nice day for a spell, Jim Bauer and I teamed up and hit the water in his boat about 9:30 this morning. We headed north up West Neck and kept moving in that direction all day before calling it quits about 2:30.

Jim started the day throwing a walk-the-dog topwater bait, but it didn't draw any attention, so he soon changed to a light-colored Bomber crankbait and stayed with it the rest of the day. He ended up with three bass, the biggest a 1-6, plus two pickerel and a white perch.

I tried a number of different crankbaits, which netted me only a small pickerel. I missed three other strikes, only one of which was decent, and it came this morning on a spinnerbait. About 30 minutes before we quit, I again picked up the spinnerbait and immediately had a couple of fish splash at it. I slowed it down, and that's all it took for the 2-15 in this photo to smack it. He put up a decent fight and likely would have been gone if the battle had lasted much longer. I say that because the hook fell out of his mouth as I lifted him from the net.

We talked to a couple other anglers who said they had caught a few bass and more than their share of pickerel today.

Water temps all day never reached 60 degrees, and, of course, we had duckweed to contend with off and on. However, there was no scum line to speak of on Jim's boat when he cleaned it up. All in all, it wasn't a bad day--just not one to write home about.

Celebration of Dewey Mullins' Life





Family and friends gathered at West Neck Marina today to honor the late-Dewey Mullins with a Celebration of Life.



Dewey's brother, Kermit, reads a passage of scripture and talks
about some childhood experiences he had with Dewey.

Dewey's daughter, Donna (with sunglasses atop her head) 
reads a poem.

Family and friends drink a toast to Dewey.

Dewey's wife, Jane (left, front), gathers her grandchildren for
a group shot.



You truly will always be missed, Dewey.

Winter of My Life

I received a poem today in an email from a retired former co-worker and fellow editor at the Naval Safety Center. Coupled with the loss yesterday of my good friend, Dewey Mullins, the poem made me stop and think even a little harder than I've been doing about where I am in life and where everyone else will one day find themselves, as well. I felt it worth sharing here:

You know... Time has a way of moving quickly

And catching you unaware of the passing years.

 

It seems just yesterday that I was young,

Just married and embarking on my new life with my mate.

 

And, yet, in a way, it seems like eons ago,

And I wonder where all the years went.

 

I know that I lived them all...

And I have glimpses of how it was back then and of all my hopes and dreams...

But here it is... The winter of my life, and it catches me by surprise...

 

How did I get here so fast?

Where did the years go, and where did my youth go?

 

I remember well...

 

Seeing older people through the years and thinking that those

Older people were years away from me, and that winter was so far off

That I could not fathom it or imagine fully what it would be like...

 

But here it is...

My friends are retired and getting grey...

They move slower, and I see an older person now.

 

Some are in better and some worse shape than me...

But I see the great change...

 

Not like the ones that I remember who were young and vibrant...

But, like me, their age is beginning to show, and we are now those

Older folks that we used to see and never thought we'd be.

 

Each day now, I find that just getting a shower is a real target for the day!

And taking a nap is not a treat anymore... it's mandatory!

'Cause if I don't on my own free will... I just fall asleep where I sit!

 

And so now I enter into this new season of my life unprepared

For all the aches and pains and the loss of strength and ability

To go and do things that I wish I had done but never did!

 

But, at least I know that, though the winter has come,

And I'm not sure how long it will last,

That when it's over--it's over...

 

Yes, I have regrets.

There are things I wish I hadn't done...

Things I should have done, but indeed,

There are many things I'm happy to have done.

 

It's all in a lifetime...

 

So if you're not in your winter yet...

Let me remind you that it will be here faster than you think.

Whatever you should like to accomplish in your life, please do it quickly!

Don't put things off too long!

 

Life goes by quickly, so do what you can today.

As you can never be sure whether this is your winter or not!

You have no promise that you will see all the seasons of your life...

 

So live for today, and say all the things you want your loved ones to remember...

And hope they appreciate and love you for all the things

You have done for them in all the years past!

 

Life is a gift to you.

The way you live your life is your gift to those who come after.

 

Make it a fantastic one.

And, remember:

"It is health that is real wealth,

And not pieces of gold or silver."

 

--Author Unknown

You'll Be Missed by Many, My Friend

There's no easy way to say farewell to an old friend, especially one the caliber of Dewey Mullins. I've been writing for more than 50 years, and yet I'm struggling here to find the right words to pay my final respects.

The one thing I am certain about is that Dewey won't soon, if ever, be forgotten by his large circle of family and friends. He had a special knack for leaving a lasting impression on all with whom he came into contact.

I looked up to Dewey for a number of reasons, but none more prominent than the fact I never heard him complain about his health problems. For at least six years, he had been battling conditions that would have incapacitated some. Dewey, though, kept working and acting as though nothing at all was wrong. I'd always ask him how he was doing, and his usual response was, "Oh, I'm OK."

When we West Neck tourney anglers voted unanimously to rename our events the Dewey Mullins Tribute Bass Tourneys this past season, we only were doing something that was long overdue. I'll never forget the smile that came across his face the day I walked into the marina store and told him about what we had done. In his usual jovial way, he said, "Hey, if it helps us catch a few more fish, I'm all for it." And catch a few more fish we did--far exceeding even his wildest imagination, or so I believe. It actually turned out to be an unprecedented year.

For openers, 11 of our 18 events (including the two-day Classic) in 2012 had 20 or more anglers vying for the top honors, which meant we could pay three places. I don't recall any other year ever in which we had even one tourney with that many participants. In seven tournaments, participants collectively weighed more than 100 pounds of fish--another first. Our collective grand totals for the year were 862 bass for a whopping total weight of 1,567.34 pounds. Dewey really was proud of those stats, and for good reason. None of us could have known the year would turn out that way, but I'm so glad it did--for Dewey's sake. It was pure joy for me to watch the big smile that came across his face each time I'd update all the totals for him.

I want to believe you're smiling even more now, my friend, as all that pain and suffering you endured has been put to rest. And it's my fondest hope that we West Neck tourney anglers keep doing you proud as we continue the tradition of the Dewey Mullins Tribute Bass Tourneys.

One other matter remains, my ol' shipmate, and that is I have to give you the traditional nautical wish of "Fair Winds and Following Seas." I also wish you "Tight Lines!" Our journey together was cut far too short.

Epilog: Dewey passed away at 6:09 a.m. Thursday, Nov. 8, 2012, at the age of 75.

2012-2013 Goody's Big Bass Tournament Schedule

According to John Goodman, the coordinator for these wintertime big-bass tournaments, there are eight events in this year's schedule. Dates (all Saturdays) and times are as follows:

Dec. 1, 15 and 29: 7:30 a.m - 2 p.m.
Jan. 12 and 26, and Feb. 9 and 23: 8 a.m. - 2 p.m.
March 9: 7 a.m. - 2 p.m.

The entry fee for these tournaments is $10 per fisherman. All events are held out of Bob's Fishing Hole. "The reason," says John, "is I can depend on enough water to fish throughout the winter months."

If you want more info, call John at 757-427-0659, or email him at johngoodman3@cox.net.

A Friendly Tip: Be on the Lookout for These Unwanted Visitors

If you're like me and store your boat at West Neck Marina, you might be well-served to take a hard look around for traces of these little critters the next time you're at or in your boat. I've got 'em in mine, and I have a real hard time believing I'm the only one plagued with this problem. I've never carried snacks in my boat, so I'm not sure what the attractant is/was in my case.

This isn't my first run-in with field mice in my boat at West Neck, but I have to say that these latest critters seem to be a tad smarter than others I've done battle with in the past. The new "crop" is simply pushing my baited traps out of the way, and/or in some cases, stealing the bait without activating the trap. And please be assured, these baits all have hair triggers--my sore fingers are a testament to that fact.

After having about two dozen traps set in my boat for two weeks now, I've only thus far caught one of the critters. For that reason, I called A-Active Exterminators and had one of their reps join me at my boat yesterday for any advice they might have to accommplish my mission. The fella who showed up told me I had set up my "mine field" correctly. However, he had a couple other suggestions for me, starting with plugging as many holes as possible in and around my storage shed. He recommended that I pour gravel around the full outside perimeter and then use either spray foam or steel wool to plug all other possible entrances. "If you have a hole the size of a nickel, a mouse can get in," he said. And, since I can padlock my metal shed (to keep pets and kids out), he also encouraged me to put some poison around the inside perimeter.

A friend I had talked to yesterday told me about some green blocks of poison you could buy by the bag. These blocks had helped rid a problem he had, so I placed eight of them yesterday before I left my shed. And just like my friend had said would happen, two of the blocks had been completely devoured--with not a single trace left behind, I'm here to tell you--by the time I got to the shed this morning, and a couple more showed signs of overnight activity.

The A-Active rep told me yesterday that they've been getting a lot of calls from people in the vicinity of West Neck here recently with mice problems. According to the rep, our mild winter last year, coupled with moist conditions here lately, are mostly to blame for the situation.

In any event, I urge you to check your boat if you happen to store it at West Neck--unless, that is, you don't mind having uninvited guests.

Incidentally, I have to share something that happened to me this morning while I was checking the traps on my boat. I had raised the lid on the rear deck to check the traps in the bilge, and as I shined a flashlight in there, I noticed the dark-colored tail of something slightly wedged between the side of the gas tank and the side of the oil reservoir. You probably can guess what I was thinking it might be. Knowing that if it were a snake, I had to get it out, I mustered the courage to stick a knife in its tail. When no battle ensued, I dragged "it" out, and "it" turned out to be a rubber worm that somehow had migrated to the bilge. I breathed a sigh of relief as I removed the worm and gently closed the lid, so as not to set off one of the mouse traps.

"You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown"

That title, originating with the Peanuts comic strip, really hits the nail on the head for me when it comes to describing how I feel about my friend (pictured here), Dewey Mullins. In the last eight years since he and I lost our parents, we've bonded in a way that I have really enjoyed. Those discussions we've had in the marina store have been priceless.

I only can hope the poem that follows will, in some small way, repay Dewey and perhaps help him recover from the health issues he is having to deal with at the moment. Here's hoping you get well soon, my friend. Now the poem I promised:

I still can remember the first time I met ol' Dewey,

He was running a tourney and, as usual, wouldn't stand for any hooey.

From his boat, he barked the rules and regs loud enough for all to hear,

There wouldn't be any shenanigans in this event--that much was abundantly clear.

 

Short fish, dead fish--everyone understood the score,

It was gonna cost you at least a little bit and maybe a whole lot more.

Now open those livewells and let me have a check,

Then we'll get this show on the road in just another sec.

 

This scene has played out many, many times o'er all the years,

As Dewey gained the reputation of a sportsman everyone reveres.

Navyman, boat rigger, gunsmith, fisherman, hunter, he be,

Husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather--on these points, we all agree.

 

For these past several years, manager of West Neck Marina has been Dewey's life,

A task that, for the most part, he performs with little or no strife.

About the only thing I've ever witnessed that really gets him charged up and going,

Is someone who drives off the end of the ramp after his warning and then needs towing.

 

Reared back in his big, brown, leather, executive chair,

Dewey monitors all those fishermen's stories that often fill the air.

And when he's not listening to what others have to say,

He's telling the tale about how his own big one once got away.

 

That's not all, though, that takes place in the marina store,

Maybe you want a new lure to replace one you don't have anymore.

Dewey's the man who easily can make it happen,

He's a wizard with wire and always guarantees satisfaction.

 

Or maybe you have leanings a lot like mine,

And want to pick Dewey's brain about fishing a particular piece of shoreline.

Whatever your question, he always has a reply,

One that makes sense--on that you can rely.

 

Dewey's a friend and mentor, all wrapped into one good-hearted, whiskered guy,

Someone--trust me--who's never afraid to look you squarely in the eye.

And although he has many a problem of his own, with which he must deal,

You'd never know it from his manner, because it's always like steel.

 

He'll do anything to help you, no matter what your plight;

Dewey's rescued me more than once when I needed help and was uptight.

A native of West Virginia, he's a man who typifies "what you see is what you get"--

No artificial airs--and for that, he's earned my utmost respect.