Dream About Spring

An angler's blood usually gets to pumping just thinking about it. I'm talking, of course, about one of those mystic, early mornings, with steam rolling off the glass-calm water. The wake of your favorite topwater bait pierces through the surface, and then it happens--the moment that kept you awake last night, tossing and turning in bed, is nigh at hand. "Will this finally be the day I realize my dream?" you wonder. "Will I at long last lay claim to that prized fish of a lifetime?"

You do a double-take as you see that massive wake surging toward your bait. You speed up your cadence, then give it a quick pause. And WHOOSH! Suddenly, it's as though Sasquatch has tossed a Volkswagen on top of your bait. Chaos ensues, and time stands still as you wrestle the behemoth in his element. It's one of those magical moments that drives all of us anglers.

Without a doubt, topwaters are the most exciting way to catch a giant bass. Nothing compares to that huge toilet-flushing sound of a big bass inhaling a topwater lure, followed, of course, by some tail-walking that gets your heart to beating faster than a hummingbird can flap its little wings.

Now that I hopefully have gotten your adrenaline flowing, check out this video of the top 10 bass blow-ups of 2016--and dream about spring. Just click on this link: https://youtu.be/aXxZRkqN3tY.

Here's an added bonus for you: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tMfe92HfoxM.

Maybe I Really Am "A Little Off in the Upper Story"

I'm convinced my dear mom used to think so at times when I was a teenager. I'll never forget one scolding I got from her.

It was a snowy winter weekend in Kansas, along about 1960, and I was bent on getting dual exhausts installed on my old car. Several inches of snow covered the ground, as I lay on my back, working underneath "my wheels" all weekend long.

After watching me come in the house both days, wet and nearly frozen to the bones, my ever-so-wise mom predicted that I was going to come down with "a death of cold" as a result of my bull-headedness, and you know what? She was right. A few days later, I was so sick I hardly could hold up my head. It was a couple weeks later before I finally was well enough to take my car to my best friend's dad (a mechanic) and let him finish what I had started.

Thank God, I've lost a lot of that tenacity over the years, but there's still enough left to make me want to sneak in some fishing trips over the winter months of December, January and February. And, I'm not the only one who feels that way.

A lot of folks would prefer to don an extra layer or two of clothing and head to the river, rather than sit on their duffs all weekend watching TV sports...and only wishing they had gone to the water. As one fella remarked, "Nothing compares to braving the elements for a few hours of solitude and winter-fishing bliss. Personally, I'd rather fish in winter than the middle of summer. There are fewer pleasure boaters, skiers and jet-skiers, and also fewer bass fishermen."

"What can be more simple, calming and refreshing than spending a brisk day on the water in the deep of winter?" lamented another angler.

One thing to keep in mind, however, is that winter is the time of year when the way you dress for a fishing trip is as important as any other part of the planning process. A T-shirt, shorts and sandals may be OK for the summer, but you need to layer up for any winter fishing.

Make sure you don't overlook some nice socks and headgear. For warmth purposes, "jeep caps," like "Radar" O'Reilly wore in the MASH hit TV series, are hard to beat. As for gloves, some love 'em, and some hate 'em. For me, a pair of warm, fingerless gloves are a "must have" item; otherwise, I'm dogged with arthritic pain all day. I also wear a good ankle-high, waterproof pair of boots, along with the usual year-round pair of polarized sunglasses.

Once you're properly dressed for the pursuit, the next thing you need to concentrate on is the timing of your trip. The best time to go in winter, by most accounts, is during the middle of a warm front. For at least some I read about, they prefer days when the air temps range from the low 40s into the 50s. Personally, I like the 50s, but if cabin fever is getting me down, I will consider a day in the 40s, especially if low winds are predicted. Incidentally, you always should check the wind forecast before planning a cold-weather fishing trip. Winter wind is brutal and really can mess up a day on the water.

Some people won't hesitate to go, even in freezing temps, but then you have to deal with annoyances like ice freezing in your rod guides, and that ruins it for me. I would do that when I was younger--but that was before I decided to turn the switch "on" in the upper story.

In researching the Internet on this topic, I found one guy who characterized winter fishing as "nothing more than an excuse to drive a long distance on terrible roads to the middle of nowhere, whereupon you will find very few other sensible creatures, besides maybe a few birds and hopefully some fish." Another admitted that his wife is right: His winter-fishing habits "border on insane."

I don't feel like I fall into either one of those categories. I occasionally just like to wrap up, grab a thermos of coffee, and go spend a few hours of the day communing with nature, as I simultaneously try to catch a few fish. If that makes me borderline crazy or insane, then so be it. I'll keep doing it for as long as my health allows.

My dad had the same philosophy, and I unfortunately had to witness how making what he knew was going to be his "last cast" affected him. There's no doubt in my mind I, too, will experience the same emptiness. Just knowing I one day will have to accept the reality of there not being a "next time" is more than I can fully comprehend at the moment. At the very least, it's a truly sobering thought.

Only 2 Fish, But Both Nice Ones

Even though it was a bit chilly, Ron decided to launch at 4 p.m. yesterday and troll around Tecumseh to see what he could find. Twenty-five minutes later, he scored a 2-4 (below), followed about 5 minutes later with a 3-2 (right). He then lost two before finishing at 5:50 without another fish.

All of yesterday's fish came while trolling the XTS Minnow about 100 to 150 feet off the shoreline. "Gotta love that lure," he said, adding, "it has become my go-to." He also had two beetlespins out, but they just got ignored.

The day's colder temperatures left Ron with no choice but to once again don his hat and gloves. The only surprise of the evening was that he didn't find any chain pickerel or panfish.

Saturday, Feb. 11, 2017...Just received another email from Ron saying he fished Tecumseh again today from 1 to 6 p.m. "Covered nine miles," he said, "but didn't catch a single fish."

Ron went on to say he knows the fish were there, because a buddy of his caught a 2-11 and a 2-0, as well as two chain pickerel. "I just couldn't find 'em," he admitted.

"Sure was a nice day, though a bit windy," he explained. "Sunset was dead calm, beautiful."

Butt-Less? Tail-Less? It's All Pretty Much the Same

Mind you, I have lots of flaws, one of which my wife ascribed unto me shortly after our first meeting. She said then and, for that matter, still says today that I have absolutely no butt, and I reckon, compared to some I see on other people, she's absolutely right. However, I can live with that shortcoming--and evidently, so can some fish, as evidenced by a few photos I stumbled across here recently.

These fish, for all intents and purposes, appear healthy, other than for their tails, of which they have none. They appear to swim, eat and do all the other things fish normally do. (FYI: The photo at left was included in the latest issue of BassBlaster. If you're interested, check out the short video of the last fish shown here at the following link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VeSKt2hJ3hY.)

My online research really didn't turn up a lot of information about this phenomenon, but I'll gladly share what little I did learn.

The first thing I found was a fish camp up in Canada, where anglers one year started finding some big pike (the kind my kayaker buddy, Charlie, likes to catch) with large portions of their tails missing. If you looked closely, it was nearly as though the tail pieces had been surgically removed, so everyone went on high alert for the fiendish devil, or maybe a whole gang of 'em, who might be "playing" with these pike anglers' livelihood. This saga continued into the next year, when a conservation fella accidentally stumbled onto the answer. The big pike simply were losing their tails to a run-of-the-mill fin rot.

Whether something that simple accounts for any of the missing tails in the accompanying photos is anyone's guess. It could be the fish got caught with their tail between a rock and a hard place, zigged when they should have zagged (while being chased by a bigger fish), spent a little too much time on the spawning bed, or maybe they're just like me--born without a hind part, so to speak. Truth be known, the possibilities are endless.

This much I do know, thanks to some Duke Medical Center research I discovered: Most fish have the ability to regenerate lost tissue, as long as they don't have any complications from infections, and optimal environmental conditions exist. As we all know, bass often wear a portion of their tail fin away while fanning the nest during spawning season. Within four to six weeks, though, the tail usually is back to normal.

"And when I say normal," explained a research expert, "I mean an exact replica of the original tail, including bony growth, blood vessels, nerves, and even the exact skin pigmentation. It's a pretty fascinating process," he continued. "Even more interesting is that, regardless if 40 percent or just 20 percent of the tissue is lost, the regeneration time is the same. And furthermore," he said, "fish also regenerate new mouth tissue around hook wounds."

I can't speak for everyone, but that's information I never had heard before. The Duke research dude, however, didn't stop there. He went on to describe some other ongoing studies in which they've learned that animals like salamanders can regenerate entire limbs.

And did you know that humans have limited capacity to regenerate tissue? "This is most evident in a human's ability to regenerate blood or liver tissue," said the expert, "but young children even can regenerate fingertips."

So, where is the the line drawn between our abilities and the abilities of animals like bass? Researchers are in the process of finding out. According to the Duke expert, "There is ongoing research in regenerative medicine that could lead to new therapies for humans who have lost limbs, suffered a heart attack, or for those who have had cancerous tissue removed."

Take it from this but-less expert at nothing, I feel sure there's a reasonable explanation for why all the fish in the accompanying photos have no tails. Don't know about any of the rest of you, but I take great consolation in knowing that at least some of them probably have regrown the missing appendages you see here. In my case, however, what you see (or more aptly, what you don't see) is all you get. If it hasn't improved in more than 73 years, I reckon it ain't gonna happen.

A Big Rebound from Yesterday

That was the gist of Ron's email this evening, but the rebound was a while in coming.

He launched at Tecumseh at 2 p.m. but didn't find the first fish until 4:15--an 11-inch keeper white perch. Then came his best fish of the night--a 20-inch, 4-1 bass (see right), which doubled the rod over and took major drag. In succession, then, he boated a small chain pickerel; a 14-inch, 1-8 bass; a 13-inch crappie; and, finally, one of his favorites--a 21.5-inch, 3-7 bowfin (see below).

After having a five-species night, he was singing a resounding Y-I-P-E-E!

Last night, Ron fished the upper West Neck from Indian River Road between 4:30 and 6 p.m. He was facing a disappointing skunk until just as it got dark.

He then managed to catch three 9-inch white perch (one of which is pictured below right) and, to use his words, "the smallest crappie I ever did see."

His "lucky lure" both nights was the XTS Minnow. The fact he ended two nights in a row with some taco fare and a couple of drag screamers made it well worth the effort. Particularly pleasing about today's trip was that, for a change, he didn't need a hat or gloves.

Good Thing? or Bad Thing?

Blue skies smilin' on me

Nothin' but blue skies do I see

Bluebirds singin' a song

Nothin' but blue skies from now on

I never saw the sun shinin' so bright

Never saw things goin' so right

Noticing the days hurrying by

When you're in love, my how they fly by

Blue days, all of them gone

Nothin' but blue skies from now on...

From the perspective of Irving Berlin, who wrote this song in 1926, and Willie Nelson, who did a recording of the tune, which went to the No. 1 spot on the country music charts in 1978, "Blue Skies" probably was a "good thing." But any angler who ever has had to battle those conditions on the water undoubtedly considers them a "bad thing."

As we all know, bright, bluebird skies often follow major cold fronts. One popular explanation often bantered about as the reason for the seemingly subsequent tough bite is that "the bright light hurts bass' eyes." Dr. Hal Schramm, noted authority on bass fishing and the science behind it, concedes that bass have neither eyelids nor an iris to regulate light getting into their eyes, but he's quick to point out that, unlike anglers who can't find shade while fishing a deep ledge in the middle of a lake, the bass can move. "If the bright light really 'hurts' their eyes," he said, "the bass can move into aquatic weeds or the shadow of a log or a bluff bank. Moving deeper also reduces light."

Some anglers also argue that the change in barometric pressure causes discomfort for the fish. Cold fronts usher in high pressure behind the low pressure that draws the fronts in. As explained by Dr. Schramm, "Except for infrequent events like hurricanes and tropical storms, barometric pressure usually ranges from about 990 millibars, or 29.2 inches of mercury, to 1030 millibars, or 30.4 inches of mercury. Any way you report it, the result is the same--the change in barometric pressure after a cold front is only a change of about 4 percent."

This kind of pressure change, according to Schramm, would equal about what a fish experiences when it moves 16 inches down in the water column. "And if the pressure change does make the bass uncomfortable, all it has to do is move up a few inches in the water column...," he said. "Maybe it's just the pressure change that turns bass off, but it's a pretty safe bet that the 'discomfort factor' isn't what changes the fish's feeding behavior.

Neither is it very likely that the chillier air that accompanies cold fronts the culprit. "A single night of temperatures 15 to 20 degrees below normal doesn't change the temperature of the whole lake or reservoir," continued Schramm.

Is it even true that bass don't bite after a cold front? Schramm doesn't think so. "Tournament catch stats don't show rises and falls with cold fronts or barometric-pressure changes," he noted. "It doesn't matter what the weather pattern is; tournament winners keep catching 25-plus-pound sacks."

To Schramm's way of thinking, there is one way some cold fronts may adversely affect fishing and catching. "With the typically cooler temperatures and a strong north wind that follow the cold front, it's hard to control a bass boat in 3-foot waves," he said. "And if it's winter, the cold is painful for the anglers, which impairs their fishing efficiency. Yes, anglers (unlike bass) do feel pain," he concluded.

"Battle Stations! All Hands Man Your Battle Stations!"

That's the order you'd hear barked over the loudspeaker if you were attending the Navy's USS Buttercup damage-control training facility (see right), where leaks spring up faster than you can possibly move to plug 'em all.

At least you can see those leaks, and most importantly, you know that, at the end of the day, you may be drenched, but you won't be a drowning victim. But what do you do when you can't see the leaks, and yet water just keeps getting higher and higher all around you?

I'm well-acquainted with that "sinking" feeling you get when your boat suddenly starts taking on water for no apparent reason, from no apparent source.

It was Saturday, Sept. 8, 2009, while fishing a tournament out of West Neck Marina, that I turned around from the front pedestal and saw water mysteriously bubbling up through the deck drain in my 17-foot Skeeter.

My first thought was that I perhaps had forgotten to insert the drain plug before launching, but then I remembered I hadn't removed it from the previous outing. At the same time, I could hear my automatic bilge pump running nonstop, but no water was pumping over the side. There was no doubt in my mind I needed to stop fishing and make a beeline for the marina.

That "beeline," however, turned out to be a "crawl" because, by this time, I had so much water in the stern, the 115-hp Yamaha outboard couldn't possibly put me on step. For that matter, I couldn't even "crawl" fast enough to force some of the water out. Realizing I was fighting a losing battle, I made a call with my cellphone to the marina manager, a longtime buddy of mine, who immediately dispatched his son, Curtis Wayne, with a portable bilge pump.

Within minutes of his arrival alongside and quick helping hand, the water level in my boat started receding to the point where I finally could get on step and stay there until I reached the marina ramp, where more help was waiting to take my car keys and orchestrate a super fast recovery.

I eventually would learn that a two-fold problem led to my close call. The thru-hull fittings for both my livewell and bilge bumps had snapped in half, allowing water to rush into the bilge at will. I've always surmised that what caused both of these parts to fail was one too many hard jolts from the wakes of "big boys" on the main river.

My incident, however, paled in comparison to the one I read highlights of in the latest issue of BassBlaster. In that case, Darrell Proffitt and Brandon Lovelace were fishing a Jan. 22, 2017, Rat-L-Trap tournament on Sam Rayburn Reservoir when Lovelace's 21-foot Champion bass boat began taking on water for unknown reasons and ultimately sank.

As reported in the Feb. 2, 2017, The Huntsville (Texas) Item by freelance outdoor writer Matt Williams, "The mishap left the two men with no choice but to jump into the 61-degree water, where they spent the next 90 minutes bobbing and paddling and getting beaten to a pulp by a relentless chain of tall waves churned up by high winds that ushered in a recent cold front. The wicked front packed wind gusts up to 40 mph as it raced across eastern Texas, pummeling lakes all across the region and turning them into watery danger zones, riddled with whitecaps and treacherous rollers estimated by some counts to be as tall as 8 feet.

"The waves were especially bad at Rayburn, a 114,000-acre reservoir...known for its big bass and huge water. Proffitt and Lovelace, who have roughly 30 years of experience on the lake between them, knew the weather system was coming, and they planned their tournament strategy around it. For starters, they chose a wind-protected boat ramp in Mill Creek Park to launch from... . The idea, said Proffitt, was to put themselves in a decent fishing area that offered shelter from big winds that wouldn't require navigating across a lot of big water on the way back... .

"What the anglers didn't prepare for was a nightmare that began unfolding as they started making their way back to the Mill Creek boat ramp, somewhere around 2 p.m. According to Proffitt, they were riding the tall swells with no issues when Lovelace looked back and saw water boiling through the compartment door at the rear of the boat.

"'We didn't take any waves over the front or hit anything,' Proffitt said. 'The boat just started taking on water for some reason. We had run the bilge pumps a couple of times during the day, but they never stayed on for more than a few seconds. We were probably 200-300 yards from Mill Creek Cove and maybe 75 yards from the bank when we saw the water pouring in. I told Brandon to turn on the bilge pumps, and he said they already were on. Water was coming in faster than the bilges could pump it out.'

"Realizing they were in serious trouble, Proffitt and Lovelace goosed the throttle in an effort to reach the nearby shoreline. That's when the outboard died and never regained power.

"'By this time, the whole back of the boat was full of water, and that's when reality set in,' Proffitt recalled. 'I told Brandon we needed to get to the front of the boat. About two minutes later, the whole back end went under, causing the boat to roll. We didn't have any choice at that point, except to jump and hope for the best.'

"Both men were wearing lifejackets when they leaped overboard into a froth of towering waves churned up by the stout northwesterly winds. Proffitt donned a traditional buckle-up model; Lovelace, an inflatable PFD designed to inflate once submerged in water. While the lifejackets ultimately did their job and kept the anglers afloat, Proffitt said there were several times over the next 90 minutes when he questioned whether he and his partner would survive or not.

"'Six-foot swells were coming right down the pike,' he said. 'As soon as we hit the water, our heads went under, and the water was cold enough that it took our breath away. Brandon was pretty rattled, and I had to yell at him to get his head on straight. I thought he was going to drown right off the bat. We kept yelling back and forth, but after 5 to 10 minutes, we lost sight of each other in the swells.'

"Proffitt said his first inclination was to attempt to swim to the nearest shoreline, but it was impossible... . The angler added that the waves were so powerful that it became a constant struggle for both men just to keep their heads above water and to prevent their lifejackets from being ripped off their bodies.

"Exhausted, water-logged and cold, the two anglers washed ashore several minutes apart on a main-lake point. Lovelace was the first to reach the bank, but Proffitt didn't realize it until he saw him waving his yellow lifejacket in the air.

"'At first, I thought the lifejacket was in the water, and I immediately assumed the worst,' Proffitt said. 'Then I saw him waving it. That's when I knew my prayers were answered. I didn't care about the boat or anything else, as long as he and I made it. We hadn't seen each other in over an hour, and neither of us knew whether or not the other one had survived. In looking back, there is absolutely no way either of us would have survived this ordeal without our lifejackets... .'

"Proffitt said Lovelace was unable to walk very well due to a foot injury he sustained a year ago, so he set out alone to look for help at around 4:30 p.m. Not long into the journey, he came across an old roadbed that dumped into the lake in the back of a cove. He said the road eventually led him to a house. Luckily, somebody was home at the time.

"'The people called for help and gave me a dry top and blanket to take back to Brandon,' Proffitt said. 'It took me about 30 minutes to get back, maybe a little less. I got Brandon up, and he tried to walk, but he only made it about 10 feet and fell. I headed back out at that point, and I ran into a volunteer fireman. Together, we managed to get Brandon out of there.'

"TowBoat U.S. crews were able to right the Champion 210 and tow it back to Mill Creek Marina (see photo above) in calm water the following day, but the boat and its contents were wrecked. The motor's cowling was torn in half (see photo right), one of the Minn Kota Talons was ripped off the transom, and three Humminbird Helix 12.1 chartplotters were destroyed. Additionally, the anglers lost all of their tackle, including nearly two dozen expensive rod-reel combos and dozens of Rat-L-Traps. Amazingly, Lovelace did manage to salvage one of his rod-reel combos and the Rat-L-Trap that was tied to the line, but it wasn't on purpose. Somehow, the rod got snagged on the lifejacket when he went into the water, and it rode across his back all the way in.

"'That gave him something else to worry about the whole time,' Proffitt said. 'He was afraid to try to get it off because he thought the hooks on the lure might punch a hole in his lifejacket. That would have been a really bad deal... . We both feel very lucky to be alive,' Proffitt added. 'We both feel like we won that tournament, and we never even made it to weigh-in.'"

What a Difference a Day Makes

Ron's fishin' luck yesterday wasn't up to par. From 4 to 6:15 p.m., he pedaled around Tecumseh and managed to boat only a small chain pickerel while trolling. He also hooked a very nice bass--"easily 2 lbs. plus, maybe 3," in his words--but lost it at the yak before he could get hold of him.

"Toes got cold, and the flurries were coming down when I recovered at 6:15 in the dark," he concluded.

This afternoon's trip, on the other hand, was an altogether different story. Between 1 and 5:30 p.m., Ron boated a total of five bass, including a 1-13, 1-15, 2-9, 3-0, and 3-10 (left), as well as three chain pickerel--all on the XTS Minnow.

A buddy who accompanied Ron to Tecumseh today caught a 3-0 bass of his own, in addition to a huge 27.5-inch, 4-10 pickerel (below).

The weather again today was "b-r-r-r cold," to use Ron's words, which he repeated no less than three times in today's email. A north wind at 15 made the 40 degrees seem even worse than it was.

Sunday, Feb. 5, 2017...Ron went for a pre-game fishing trip to Tecumseh again because the gauge still was too low for going anywhere else. The west wind was a bear to deal with, and the poor water clarity didn't help any, either," is how he described the conditions.

Fishing from  12:30 to 6 p.m., Ron only found a couple bass, a 1-10 and a 2-10 (left), as well as a 22-inch chain pickerel. "The 2-10 was very healthy and put up a good fight," said Ron, who went on to note that he got home just in time to watch the big game and managed to stay awake for the finish.

"There's a warm week ahead. Could be good," he concluded.

Crown Your Cap With Better Paper Stock

It goes without saying that baseball caps are popular among fishermen year-round. During the summer months, they often get replaced with what I often refer to as "full-brimmed nerdy/floppy hats," especially among anglers conscientious about trying to protect their skin. Even then, though, you'll see people carrying both styles on their fishing day--using the nerdy hat on the water and the baseball cap at all other times. At least, that's the way I roll.

Crown inserts for many baseball caps you buy today notoriously are of inferior quality, and if you sweat as much as I do on a normal summer day, the inserts quickly become nothing short of a genuine wrinkled, stained mess. That thought was on my mind when I recently bought another new hat and decided to test an idea of my own. It came to me during a shopping expedition with my wife.

We were in a local hobby store when I happened upon an aisle with all kinds of paper on the shelves. I picked up a tablet of 11-inch-by-15-inch watercolor paper, which is thicker than the flimsy cardboard crown inserts you usually get with new hats. I bought the tablet, containing 12 sheets (at a cost of $13.99, not including tax) and used the cheap insert in my new hat for a pattern to cut out and replace the flimsy original.

I figured if these sheets are designed to hold up to painting with watercolors, they also should withstand more of the sweat I produce during the hot summer months. Only time will tell if there's any credibility to my way of thinking, but if I'm right, the price per crown insert will be negligible. For example, consider that I should be able to get three of them out of each sheet, which will yield a grand total of 36 from the 12 sheets. Based on those numbers, each insert only will have cost me approximately 39 cents.

For the sake of comparison, I did a quick check of Amazon and found 3 packs of what appeared to be similar inserts (already cut), running anywhere from $8 to $13.

The bottom line here is pretty evident: If you're willing to invest a little do-it-yourself time, you probably can save a few bucks and have something just as good as the higher-priced items. Just know that I offer no guarantees here, though.

Nothing Can Match the Passion of Youth

The late-Ray Hardy and I used to take turns breaking enough winter ice to launch at West Neck and make our way out to clear water in the channel. However, I can assure you the ice we were dealing with didn't come anywhere close to what you see in this photo from the latest issue of Jay Kumar's BassBlaster.

According to Jay, these two college kids, with a bass boat in tow, showed up at a New York lake that had opened up for about a week. A local fella told them the ice still was pretty thick, to which they said, "We got sledgehammers." The two of them reportedly worked on that ramp for more than an hour to get their boat in.

Sure As God Made Little Green Apples, "It's" Coming

I'm talking, of course, about a new season of boat-ramp follies, and that's no "alternative fact." Neither is the paraphrased account which follows.

A fella arrived at a boat ramp early one morning to go fishing with his father-in-law and another friend. Just so happened there was a weekend-warrior bass tournament getting ready to go. They fell into line, waiting their turn and watching, as each one launched, the next person pulled forward and then backed down the ramp as soon as the previous trailer had cleared.

Everything was OK until this trio's turn came, and they pulled around to line up for the ramp. The tournament dude from behind whipped up beside them and quickly began backing down the ramp ahead of them. Because he was by himself, he stopped his truck and hopped into the boat to back it off the trailer. He then pulled to the bank close to the ramp, jumped out, and went to move his truck.

At that point, however, "Mr. Hotshot" realized he had forgotten to put the plug in his high-dollar bass rig, which now was sinking. So he got out of the truck, hopped back in his boat, and started circling around fast, trying to get the water out of his boat--all the while blocking the ramp.

As luck would have it, a ranger had been watching this whole evolution. He yelled and asked the guy if he could move the truck, and the guy said yes, so the ranger pulled the rig into one of the parking spots and walked back to the ramp area. Meanwhile, the trio that had been so rudely cut off went ahead and launched. At a safe distance, they sat and watched "Mr. Hotshot" finally get enough water out of his boat to get the plug in it and leave the rest of the job to the bilge pump.

The ranger then motioned him over to the bank so he could hand over the truck keys--along with, as the trio learned later that day, four tickets. The ranger cited "Mr. Hotshot" for (1) blocking the ramp, (2) creating a wake in a no-wake zone, (3) having no fire extinguisher, and (4) having no sound device.

The folks at Wired2Fish have some suggestions to prevent this sort of situation. They've come up with what they call "8 Unwritten Rules of Boat-Ramp Etiquette." Here is author Walker Smith's list of suggested rules:

"Move to the side if you're not ready. There are a lot of things to check and recheck before launching your boat. Waiting until you're in the middle of a long line at a busy ramp is not the time to perform these tasks. When you pull into the parking lot, move to the side and let others go ahead and dump their boats. Put your plug in, take your straps off, take your motor toter off, plug in your graphs, put your lights in--whatever you have to do--before clogging up the line. Not only does this drastically help the flow of traffic, but it also ensures that you're doing everything properly and safely because you're not being rushed. Just move to the side, sip your coffee, and take your time. Your fellow fishermen will thank you.

"Turn off your headlights. Ever tried to back a boat trailer with someone's headlights in your face or mirrors? It's practically impossible. As soon as your truck goes into reverse, shut off your headlights, so people backing their trailers in will be able to see.

"Catch up after your truck is parked. Don't hang around and talk to your buddies with your vehicle blocking the ramp. Fishing is largely about fellowship and camaraderie, so there's nothing wrong with enjoying the time with your buddies. Just get your rig out of the way, and then you can talk to your heart's content.

"Don't hog the ramp. A lot of marinas have multiple boat lanes but no lines or concrete dividers. Essentially, they look like one really wide ramp. When the facility is busy, don't go down the very middle--that just clogs things up for everyone else in line. Dump your boat on the farthest side of the ramp, so other folks can launch next to you. There's no reason one trailer needs to take up two or more lanes.

"Have your nav lights on when your boat touches the water. Of course, this is assuming you're launching in the pre-dawn hours. Boat ramps, especially during tournaments, are extremely busy, and there are boats idling everywhere. If you launch your boat without the lights on, you're endangering those around you. Maybe you can see them, but they can't see you.

"Only tie to other boats with permission. Rigs cost a lot of money, and there's no sense in scratching someone's boat. It might seem harmless, but be respectful and ask permission before tying up to someone else's boat if there's no more dock space left. That guy probably worked hard to afford that boat, so be cognizant of his investment. It's a good idea to keep a few cheap bumper buoys in your rod locker. This will ensure there's no damage to the fiberglass, aluminum, or rub rails on either boat. Also, don't walk across someone else's boat without permission, and if you get that permission, be mindful of rods and reels that may be laying on the deck. Those, too, are expensive investments.

"There's nothing wrong with using your trolling motor. It takes a lot of practice to learn how to precisely maneuver your boat via outboard at low speeds. If you're in a local derby with lots of boats, things quickly can turn into an impromptu game of bumper boats if you're not careful. If you're in a tight spot, there's nothing wrong or wimpy about standing up and deploying your trolling motor. It's better than scraping the bow of your boat across someone's cowling.

"If the parking lot is empty, give everyone some space. If you sneak out for a few hours of weekday-afternoon fishing, and there are only a few trucks in the parking lot, give the other guy a little breathing room--don't park right next to him. When it's time to put his boat back on the trailer, don't force him to do some Austin Powers-esque moves to free himself from the unnecessary bind you put him in by leaving only 6 inches of wiggle room on one side of your rig. His truck doesn't need yours to keep it company."

The world, indeed, would be a better place if we were all aware of and followed these simple boat-ramp rules. However, we all know that's usually not what happens. In those instances, we all need to also remember this piece of guiding philosophy: Don't be ugly to someone, because they simply may be unaware. We're all on the same team, so try to be nice, and always be willing to help out a brother--or sister. Honey draws more flies than vinegar, or in this case, sarcasm. And yes, I, too, can take a lesson from that saying.

My thanks to Jim B. for suggesting this topic and providing a link.

30 Minutes After Launch, I Knew I Was Doomed

I was inching along above the West Neck Bridge about 9:30 when I tossed my jerkbait up between a couple of partly submerged logs, twitched it once, saw the line jump, and set the hook. I felt the fish for only a few seconds, though, before the line went limp. All I had hanging from the lure when I got it back was a scale on the jerkbait's rear hook.

I feel pretty sure I've mentioned before that one of my superstitions is that if I lose the first fish of the day, I'm likely to spend the rest of the day just getting in some casting practice. Today was no exception. I fished until 2:30 and never felt another living thing on the end of my line. The closest thing to it was a fish that I spooked with a cast about an hour before I quit. He simply went the opposite direction, though, when my lure hit the water.

The weather couldn't have been any nicer today. I can't remember the last time I had a day with the kind of light winds that were in abundance. You actually could get off the trolling motor for a few minutes without worrying about where the boat would end up.

Today's water temp ranged from 44 degrees when I started to 50 when I quit this afternoon. Color throughout West Neck was pretty nice, and I talked to a kayaker who told me Pocaty also was in good shape. Like me, however, he came up empty-handed at day's end. I found him sitting in the middle of a school of baitfish near the ramp as I pulled up to recover my boat this afternoon, casting everywhere, trying to get whatever was making the baitfish jump to hit a lure. It never happened, though, so he pulled his kayak out of the water right behind me.

All in all, it was a bit disappointing, considering how nice the weather was, but as I consider everything in hindsight, I tend to believe my better choice might have been Albright's. I notoriously do better in West Neck during times of low water. Oh well, there's always next time.

Ron, on the other hand, had a decent trip this afternoon. His evening email noted that he launched at Lotus Garden at 4 o'clock and headed toward Back Bay.

All his fish turned out to be dinks, including two sub-9-inch crappie, an 8-inch yellow perch, 10-inch chain pickerel, and an 11-inch bass. Ron indicated beetle spins and a Shadow Rap were the ticket to his success.

Back Bay also was very clear today, but Ron said a fair amount of green slime blobs kept getting snagged on his lures. He also reported that it got a bit chilly after the sun went down.

"Not a bad start to February," he concluded.

Thursday, Feb. 2, 2017...Ron took a trip to Milldam this evening from 4:30 to 6 p.m. His goal was to find some panfish, but he instead found a 1-2 largemouth and a 14-inch striper. He caught both fish on the XTS Minnow. "Nothing else was working," he said.

Unfortunately, more of those "green globs of slime" that have been hampering Ron's efforts were in abundance yet again this evening. "They're driving me crazy," he noted, adding, "they have to go away!" He further described 'em as being "all over the surface" and "difficult to get off the hooks."

It Was Off to Milldam Today

"So much nicer this afternoon," noted Ron in opening his email. "Almost no wind, relatively warm, and just pleasant from 2 to 5:30 p.m."

Ron said it was muddy at launch but that the water cleared up as he headed eastward. While Snake Creek south was crystal clear, it didn't produce a single bite. Points in Milldam proper, however, were a whole different story. A buddy with him caught a nice 16-incher that might have gone 2+ pounds.

Ron, on the other hand, caught two bass, weighing in at 1-2 and 1-12 (see above), respectively, as well as a 21-inch chain pickerel (see left).

'Twas a bit surprising, said Ron, that neither he, nor his buddy, caught any panfish today.