No Stream for Old Men

(Reprinted with permission of the author.)

Tom called the other day to see if Dave and I would like to do a little fishing. I was in right away. And when I talked to Dave, he was, too.

With the coronavirus prowling about, and all the resulting shutdowns and cancellations, I've been spending a lot of time inside...too much. I can't even go to church or the gym, so the possibility of an outing with a couple of good buddies was the best idea I had heard in days.

All three of us are part of that designated group of seniors considered to be "at risk." But the way we figured it, being outside is one of the safest places we could be--there's not a prohibited crowd, and the trout don't transmit COVID-19. But as a precaution, we decided that we should fish a remote mountain stream, one not likely to attract other anglers, if any at all.

So on Tuesday morning, we rendezvoused in a grocery parking lot, greeted one another with some perfunctory elbow bumps, piled into my truck, and headed for the mountains.

The stream we chose was one that each of us had fished before, but not for quite some time, which turned out to be consequential. But I'll get to that in a moment.

It's about a 50-mile drive, part of which took us over a narrow washboard road with enough switchbacks to make an aviator dizzy. If the road had been straight, that 50-mile drive wouldn't have taken half as long, but if you want remote, twists and turns is what you get.

When we got to the end of the dirt road, where we would have to leave the truck, the first thing we noticed was a used condom conspicuously draped over a tree stump near the path leading to the stream. That proves some people seek out remote areas for activities other than fishing, but I digress.

The stream is classic, high-grade mountain drainage, consisting of plunge pools, pocket water, brisk little runs, and rocks--lots of rocks, some the size of an SUV. And between the water and the algae, some are slicker than grease on a climbing pole.

Trees and thick vegetation crowd the banks, which means mostly staying in the water to move upstream, and navigating around, and sometimes over, those lubricated rocks.

After a short hike to stream-side, we split up so as not to get in one another's way, each man sticking to his own solitary section of water. I hadn't been fishing long before I realized how unsteady I felt. My wading boots did the slip/slide maneuver, and once when I moved to the bank to duck under a fallen tree, the soil gave way, and I landed flat on my back. In my younger days, I would have thought nothing of it, but with a hip replacement a year ago and impending shoulder surgery two months from now, I had a whole new perspective on falling down.

Taking a spill in a river usually results in no more than a good dunking, but do it in one of these boulder-strewn mountain streams, and you're just as likely to end up with bruised or broken bones, no matter how old you are.

After my bank-side tumble, I proceeded with extra caution, recalling my orthopedist's warning when I asked how soon I could resume fishing after surgery. "Fishing isn't the problem," he said. "Falling is what you need to avoid."

A somber mood ensured when the three of us got back together, and not because we hadn't caught any fish. We had.

Tom was the first to break the silence: "Well, this is the last time I'll see this stream." To which Dave and I nodded in agreement. I wasn't the only one who had agility concerns and whose enjoyment was diminished by concerns of injury.

With discernible melancholy in our voices, we acknowledged that this just wasn't the kind of fishing we could do anymore. Time and wear-and-tear on our bodies were placing restrictions on the fishing we could reasonably expect to do in the future.

Between now and my surgery, scheduled for the end of May, I have five fishing trips planned, both in and out of state (provided the coronavirus doesn't necessitate any cancellations). I want to log as much time on the water as I can before rehab and recovery shut me down.

And I have to confess, I'm more than a little concerned that my arm, my casting arm, won't function properly after the operation. That's always a risk.

As the years pass and the exigencies of being mortal extract their inevitable toll, antique anglers like me must learn to adapt, which is why I'm out in the backyard learning to cast with my opposite arm. I've also been thinking about that book I wrote, Journey to the Final Cast, and wondering: Will it be my right or my left?

About the author: Glenn Busch retired to Lynchburg, VA, in 2008, as rector emeritus of St. Mary's Church in High Point, NC, after a pastorate of more than 27 years. It was during the High Point years that he also became a college teacher. While serving as rector of the parish, High Point University asked him to become an adjunct faculty member, where, for 18 years, he taught for the department of religion and philosophy. Glenn and his wife, Kathleen, have two children and two grandchildren upon whom they dote as often as time and distance will allow. "Thanks once again, my good friend, for allowing me another opportunity to share one of your blog posts with my readers."

One of the Safest Things You Can Do Now: Go Fishin'

That's the take of Dr. Neil Schaffner of Opelika, Ala., an avid bass angler and 40-year veteran of the medical profession.

As he explained during an interview with Dave Precht of Bassmaster Magazine, "Everybody knows you're supposed to practice 'social distancing' by staying at least 6 feet away from other people. You can do that when you're out in the middle of nowhere, in open spaces and open air.

"That, however, doesn't mean you should be oblivious to the dangers of contracting what, for some, can be a deadly virus. Your biggest risk is at the gas pump," he said. "Perhaps 500 people have touched the handle before you picked it up. The second greatest risk might be pulling into a drive-thru to get a biscuit on the way to the river or lake."

Schaffner urges everyone to avoid touching any hard surface without protection. "Wear gloves if you can. If you don't have surgical gloves, work gloves are better than nothing. Anything that provides a barrier between your skin and a contaminated surface can help. Using a paper towel to hold the gas pump handle might save someone from getting the disease. Unwrap that biscuit with a napkin, and avoid touching any of the packaging. Make sure employees are wearing gloves, too."

An endocrinologist on staff at East Alabama Medical Center in Opelika, Schaffner well knows that sharing the experience with a buddy makes fishing so much more enjoyable but cautions, "In these times, two might be a crowd."

If you'd rather not fish alone, there are some things you can do to minimize the danger of catching coronavirus from a fishin' buddy. For openers, make sure your buddy didn't just get off a cruise ship three days ago. Also don't take your buddy if he is coughing or has any other symptoms--fever, aches, sore throat--or has been exposed to someone with coronavirus.

Should you still decide to fish with someone else, do all you can to avoid touching a surface your friend has touched. Agree that the two of you will stay on opposite ends of the boat and not touch anything the other has touched. Also would recommend letting only one guy use the net, with the other either swinging the fish aboard or reaching over the side and lipping it. Wouldn't be a bad idea, either, if both wore masks throughout the fishing day.

As Schaffner noted, "In these extreme times, what used to be done out of an abundance of caution now has become common sense."

For Week Ending Sunday, April 5, 2020

Monday, March 30 (from Skip)...Fishing was better than I thought it would be. I had a couple I lost trying to lift them in the boat. I had a couple more come unbuttoned. I had action while the carp were doing their thing. But the bite stopped when the carp stopped. The wind also shifted, so who knows?

Monday, March 30 (from Ron)...Fished Ashville Bridge Creek and found a few. Only one small bass, but got a decent white perch, couple crappie, and a pole-bending 11-lb. catfish that hit the SwimSenko. The catfish dragged me around for a while and put a stress on the rod and reel. Was a great fight.

Thursday, April 2 (from Ron)...Crazy times. Frustrated with the wind and low water of late. Couldn't take it any longer and went out this evening. Fished upper North Landing (drawbridge area) and caught a dink. Then, caught a really nice 5-1 that made my week! Zoom U Vibe worm was on the menu. Didn't try anything else. More north wind tomorrow, and the launch options will be limited, to say the least.

Friday, April 3 (from Ron)...Water still was very low and more murky than last evening, but I managed to find one bass at 2-14. Would have been three pounds if he had had an intact tail!

Saturday, April 4 (from Andy)...Fished West Neck from 8 a.m. to noon today and "found a few nice ones." Andy, my friend, you're far too modest. When you catch fish like this, you deserve to shout it from the rooftop. In any event, know that I'm patting you on the back...oops, make that bumping knuckles on such a fine catch, especially in only four hours of fishing. A job extremely well done!





Sunday, April 5 (from Fred and Gabe)...Water was low and muddy. We got a little nervous about going anywhere because of the level, so we just stayed in West Neck. Fishing was tough. We ended up with two perch, one pickerel, and two bass (I got one that weighed 5.2, and Gabe had one that weighed about 2 lbs.). Unfortunately, we didn't get any pictures. We caught everything but the pickerel on crankbaits, and it fell for a speedworm.

Sunday, April 5 (from Ron)...Tried the saltwater on Saturday and Sunday mornings. Only caught a small speckled trout and an undersized puppy drum an inch short of skillet. Fished upper North Landing this evening and found six small bass and a couple very small white perch. Water was clear, back to normal height, and the weather seems to have turned for the better.

I'm a Glutton for Punishment...

Or, at least, that must be the image I portray to my friends, 'cause one of them texted me yesterday, shortly after I had returned home from the marina, asking if I planned to go fishing out there today. My immediate response, of course, was "NO WAY, JOSE!!!"

After all, the first thing I saw after turning into West Neck yesterday was a boat with its cowling removed, and the tow vehicle's driver leaving in what looked like it might be a fit of anger. My guess would be that this fella had let his boat sit all winter without so much as a look, and then decided to go fishing yesterday without even a cursory check of the essentials...starting with the batteries. And, furthermore, he probably figured it should take off and run like a champ. Right? Wrong!

This cycle gets repeated countless times each and every year. Why everyone doesn't eventually learn their lesson is beyond me, but they don't.

That fact aside, I received another text from the same friend this morning, saying, "It's a zoo out here!"...of which, I have no doubts, especially considering the weather prediction for even warmer temps today than yesterday. He evidently needed to see it to believe it, though.

Just so happened that, while I was doing a little cleanup on my boat yesterday, a couple friends stopped by, one of whom is my tournament partner. He was telling me that he had gone by Pungo Ferry before stopping by West Neck and that both parking lots were filled to overflowing. That info, combined with what I had seen for myself upon turning into West Neck, quickly convinced me I should leave my boat parked in its storage shed until some point after this weekend, which is what I had planned all along.

The last thing I'm ever looking for is another lesson in dealing with frustration...most notably one caused by someone else--like a guy who has the ramp tied up and no clear solution in sight. I encounter enough of those by accident to know better than to go looking for one on purpose.

Suffice it to say the only thing I possibly could be talked into this moment would be to take my camera and go shoot photos of all the failures that are certain to occur at boat ramps around the local area again today. However, even that is too painful a thought.

A Changing of the Guard

Earlier today, I learned there will be a change in the day-to-day operations at West Neck Marina. Management is going to revert back to the owner, Dave Winfree, and family members, effective tomorrow, as I understand it. I'm led to believe this arrangement may be temporary--perhaps only lasting until such time as a new full-time manager can be hired. In the meantime, it probably would be in everyone's best interests to remain flexible.

For Week Ending Sunday, March 29, 2020

Thursday, March 26 (from Ron)...Skunked in Albright's on Monday, skunked in Rudee on Tuesday, and rained out Wednesday. Fished the little Oceana pond today and caught two dinks and a 1 -12 to break the skunk streak (swimsenkos were the ticket). Low water and murky conditions in the rivers and creeks drove me to the little, clear pond. Was nice to break the skunk streak. Can only get better.

Friday, March 27 (from Ron)...Fished a murky Milldam Creek this evening. Went two hours without a single bite and was trolling an XTS back to launch when the pole doubled over. Thought I had a first-of-the-season bowfin, but turned out to be a big ol' blue catfish (5+ lbs.). When I netted him, he did several rolls and made a nasty mess of everything. After cutting lines and untangling him, let him go to bother someone else. No bass.

Sunday, March 29 (from Ron)...Fished Rudee Inlet Saturday and caught the skunk. Went to launch Saturday evening, but the fresh water was more the color and consistency of chocolate milk, so I didn't launch. Went to Tecumseh this morning, and the bite was good. Caught nine bass between 1-1 and 2-1 (eight were over 1-5). Was throwing the SwimSenko and craws. Surprised that I also netted two crappie at 1-1 and 1-3 on the plastics. The way things have been this past week, I ain't complaining.

A Leap of Faith???

Reckon that's what you might call it. In any event, I never would have tried what MLFer Mike McClelland is doing here...even back when I had a healthy level of testosterone. Suffice it to say I had a few too many scares back in my early Navy days, when some hard-nosed bosun's mate would put my young butt over the side to slap some haze gray on that "tin can" I was calling home at the time.

Photo borrowed from latest issue of Jay Kumar's "BassBlaster."

What the H-E-Double Hockey Sticks Just Happened?

That's the question a boater, as well as his 17-year-old tournament partner, were wondering about just  moments after the latter tried to make a cast. "It sounded like my DD22 crankbait (see picture right) exploded," explained the partner.

All he knew for sure was that his lure had disappeared from the line but was nowhere to be found. He also had the boater staring at him with one of those "what did you just do to my brand new boat" looks on his face.

Dumbfounded, the partner grabbed another rod and continued fishing. After all, he had been whacking 'em pretty good with that crankbait. When it came time to move to another spot, however, things quickly went south. The moment the boater cranked his new Mercury outboard, it was accompanied by a horrible sound.

Once they had the cowling off the outboard, it became abundantly clear what was causing this noise, as well as what was behind the earlier "explosion." Despite the improbability of such a one-in-a-million shot happening, it was evident that the partner's earlier sidearm cast had sent the crankbait hurtling through one of the holes on the outboard's cowling. Little specks of green plastic were everywhere.

The partner later theorized that the new boat's hydraulic jack plate may have raised the motor just enough that he couldn't cast like he normally did. And in the process of slinging his bait sidearm to get it up next to a blowdown, it hit the motor and shattered.

As the young partner lamented, "Thank God it only scratched the cowling and caused a mess; I thought the boater was going to kill me." He went on to describe the guy as "a pretty good mentor," but also noted that he didn't consider him a great fisherman. "If there's a good topwater bite in the morning and a jig bite in the evening, he can catch fish," he allowed, but added, "if any other pattern exists, he nearly always blanks."

While sharing this story with one of his friends, the partner had to answer this question: "Did your life flash before your eyes when you realized it was your crankbait making that horrible sound?" I'd be willing to bet you it did.

For Week Ending Sunday, March 22, 2020

Sunday, March 22 (from Ron)...Made the mistake of fishing Albright's on Saturday evening. Wind was a bear and didn't find a single tap. Switched gears and fished Rudee Inlet this morning. Wind beat me down, but I managed to find two under-slot Puppy Drum to avoid the skunk. They fight well, and are very tasty when they reach keeper size.

What's the Worst Thing a Non-Boater Ever Did to You?

Ask that question in any group setting, and you're apt to hear a large variety of responses. Here's one I read about recently, which reminded me of something that happened a few years ago to a good friend of mine.

The incident I read about involved a young tournament angler who belonged to a club that made annual trips to Canada, where the boaters paired up with non-boaters for a week of fun fishing and camaraderie. In the third year of those trips, this young fella paired up with someone new to the club and looking to buy his first boat.

"By this point," explained the young man, "I had learned a lot about the lake...had spots/areas/techniques/etc. all mapped out. Anyway, as you'd expect with a group trip like this, we'd all talk fishing when we weren't actually fishing, and my non-boater constantly would frame our success his own way. In short, he would try to take credit for everything I had done."

We all know the kind. He would say things like, "Yeah, I found this hump...I found this school of smallmouth...I ran out to the islands...I figured out they wanted a drop shot, etc." It went on like this for the whole week.

Said the young boater, "I guess his ego couldn't handle the fact that a 19-year-old kid was running the show."

In any event, the club members all went back to the same lake the next year, and here was that guy in a new boat, fishing all the spots...literally, every single one of them...he had learned from the young angler the previous year. It was so blatant that all the members noticed what was happening.

That aha moment brings me to the one I mentioned earlier, involving my boater friend. He had been fishing tournaments all season long with the same non-boater when he decided to take a break from the action. The non-boater immediately paired up with another boater, and they proceeded to walk away with a payday at the first event they fished together.

That win for them was OK with my friend, but how they did it was a different matter. Turns out my friend was on hand for that weigh-in, and when he asked his former backseater where he and his new partner had fished, his response was, "Our spots."

My friend followed up with, "Which ones?"

"All of them," came the reply from my friend's former backseater.

Needless to say, that exchange ended a friendship. As the old saying goes, however, "The devil is in the details." And what you need to understand here is how far out of his way my friend had gone to make the tournament situation work with his former backseater.

For example, he let the backseater shower and stay overnight at his personal residence before a tournament. He also fixed breakfast for him the next morning and supplied a sandwich for tournament day. And further, on many occasions, he made up the difference when the backseater didn't have sufficient funds in his pockets to cover his share of tournament expenses. Get the picture yet?

My friend's wife and I tried to impress on him that he was being played for a fool, but he refused to listen. The sad reality here, though, is that, more often than not, my friend today usually fishes solo.

A $70+K Fiberglass Bass Boat Does Not a Tournament Winner Necessarily Make

Who says you need one of those high-priced, high-octane, fiberglass rigs with a go-fast big motor to win bass tournaments? The opening-day tournament of the 2020 Dewey Mullins Memorial Bass Tourney Series is proof otherwise. While fishing from the deck of an aluminum rig, anglers Gabe Himmelwright and Fred Crawford bested a field of 13 boats and 21 anglers with a five-fish limit weighing 16.03 pounds to walk away Sunday, March 15, with a first-place victory.

The same thing even happens occasionally in the pro ranks. One such name that immediately springs to mind is that of Steve Kennedy (pictured left).

This Alabama pro made a promise to himself after graduation from college in 1992 that he'd someday make his living by bass fishing. He stuck with his program and chalked up 15 top-10 finishes in the BFL and the EverStart Series, as well as five out-and-out BFL wins over the next 10 years. By 2002, he'd earned a third-place finish and $10,000 at the All-American.

He accomplished all this while, for the better part of eight years, competing as a non-boater. He remained a non-boater until the introduction of the boater/co-angler format in 2000, when he jumped into the boater division. His boat at the time was a 17-foot aluminum BassTracker, rigged with a 50-horse outboard. He won the Super Tournament at the end of that year in the Bama Division and won the first tournament of the next year in the Bulldog Division. He fished nine tournaments that year in two different divisions and won two Super Tournaments back-to-back in 2001 out of the Tracker.

Said Kennedy, "The Tracker certainly never rumbled at takeoffs or impressed anyone with its blistering top-end speed, but its sneaky disposition kept me in uninterrupted contact with the fish... . I won $25,000 or $30,000 in two years fishing out of my little boat, so I had absolutely no qualms with fishing anywhere against anybody in it."

In 2001, while working full-time as a mechanical engineer, Kennedy decided to become a full-time pro angler. Wanting to move up to the FLW Tour, he knew he needed a bigger boat, so he went out and bought a used 354 Ranger for $1,500. However, the boat didn't have a motor on it, the livewells didn't work, and it had no carpeting at all. Accordingly, he kept using the Tracker in 2002, fishing four FLW Tour events and pocketing more than $6,000, including a third-place finish at Santee Cooper.

While the Tracker fit Kennedy like a glove, and he had all the confidence in the world in his abilities to perform within its comfy confines, the same couldn't always be said for his co-angler partners. Of all the guys who fished out of the Tracker with him, though, only one had any issues with it, he said.

"When I told him at the pairing meeting that we'd be in a Tracker, he was like, 'What?' He thought I was kidding... . Everyone else didn't seem to mind, or at least they didn't say anything."

Heading into the fifth event of 2002, Kennedy knew he would have to get the Ranger up and running for the big water at Lake Champlain. He put a 90-horse motor on the back for that event and finished the season with it. At the first stop in 2003, however, things took a turn for the worse. He burned up the 90-horse in the grass at Okeechobee. His dad then gave him a state-of-the-art 150, and after installing new carpeting from stem to stern and getting the boat's electronics and livewell systems to working,  he was back in business.

Later in 2003, Kennedy landed a team deal, and he won his first FLW event. The rest, as they say, is history. The promise he had made himself back in 1992 after graduation from college had come true.

Modified from a story by Brent Conway.

If Anything, the Weather Helped Attendance Today

The new tournament director, Wayne Hayes, shoved off 21 anglers in 13 boats at 7 o'clock this morning. When those anglers returned at 3 o'clock this afternoon, they weighed in a total of 54 bass for a grand total weight of 124.65 lbs. That equates to an average weight per person of 5.93 lbs., average weight per boat of 9.58 lbs., and an average weight per fish of 2.30 lbs.

I don't recall another inaugural tourney of the season when we've launched that many boats or had that many participants--all of whom brought fish to the scales. Good on everyone!

Claiming the top three spots in today's tournament were the following teams, all of whom weighed limits:

1st Place, (from left) Gabe Himmelwright and Fred Crawford, 16.03 lbs. total weight, 4.87-lb. big fish. (Note: The presenter of all awards was Wayne Hayes.)

2nd Place, (from left) Chris Napier and Jared Allbritten, 15.64 lbs. total weight, 3.72-lb. big fish.

3rd Place, (middle to right) Dave Anderson and Ken Testorff, 13.95 lbs. total weight, 3.23-lb. big fish.

Today's lunker-pot winner was the team of Zech Morath (left) and Zach Bubier (not pictured), with a bass that tipped the scales at 6.81 lbs. It was the only fish they weighed, but the point of the matter is that it was a money-winner.






Here is how all the other competitors lined up at day's end:

     * The team of Chris Fretard and Mike Miller, five fish, 13.33 lbs. total weight, 3.40-lb. big fish.
     * Andy Morath, five fish, 9.12 lbs. total weight, 2.67-lb. big fish.
     * Steve Bailey, five fish, 8.56 lbs. total weight, 2.75-lb. big fish.
     * Gary Coderre, four fish, 8.31 lbs. total weight, 2.73-lb. big fish.
     * Jim Wilder, five fish, 8.07 lbs. total weight, 2.09-lb. big fish.
     * The team of David Dozier and Nelson Anderson, four fish, 7.32 lbs. total weight, 2.86-lb. big fish.
     * Mark Ingram, four fish, 6.94 lbs. total weight, 2.97-lb. big fish.
     * The team of Jim Crist and Eric Killian, four fish, 6.13 lbs. total weight, 2.50-lb. big fish.
     * The team of Rob Peppers and Don Carter, two fish, 4.44 lbs. total weight, 3.39-lb. big fish.

Congrats to all of today's winners, and thanks to everyone who came out and kicked off the 2020 season with a bang.

Our next scheduled tournament is Saturday, April 4, starting at safe light.

Trolling motors got one heckuva workout in the strong winds blowing through all the creeks today. Dave and I encountered one team in the channel, leading up to the marina store, as we all were heading to the dock for weigh-in, and their batteries were on their last leg. We offered a tow for the last few yards, but they declined, saying they were going to use the gas motor the rest of the way.

For Dave and me, the day boiled down to one short stretch of shoreline in one short stretch of time. Before and after the biting streak, it pretty much was "deadsville." In the final analysis, however, we had no squawks, even though we never found the "kicker" we desperately were looking for. It definitely was not for a lack of trying.

I'm truly grateful for my 100 mph Gortex suit that saw its first duty today. Not sure how I would have held up in the conditions today without that suit. As I told Dave near the end of the day, the suit more than paid for itself in just today's outing. You can bet it won't be the last time it gets used.

A "Fiendly" (And No, I Don't Mean "Friendly") Warnin' to Bass Feeshes Ev'rywhere

A new tournament season commences tomorrow, and I'ma comin' fer 'ya. Whether I prove to be yer worst nightmare or just another wannabe remains to be seen. But just know this: Neither rain, nor sleet, nor a little cold air will deter me from chasin' yer little...or (preferably) big...butts all over the water. In short, be prepared to see a whole bunch of hooks comin' yer way...courtesy of yers truly.