The Kind of Days You Try to Forget

I remember a day from the distant past when my family and I had taken a 2- or 3-day retreat so I could do some tidal river bass fishing (must have been the Pamunkey, Rappahannock or Mattaponi, cause those were the ones I usually fished back then).

The area was set up so that campers could tie off their boats a short distance out from the shoreline, then wade back and forth to their campsites.

All was fine until my return from the first day of fishing. I secured the boat, donned my hip waders, and slipped over the side. Unfortunately, I had failed to consider the fact it was now high tide. As my waders filled with water, I suddenly realized that the trek ashore was going to be near, if not totally impossible.

Let's just say that I provided a fair amount of entertainment for all the campers along the shoreline. They laughed for several minutes, even after I finally had made it ashore.

As a result of that incident, I felt some empathy for another fisherman...actually, a guide...whom I recently read about. Seems he had a new client aboard his boat. It was a tough fishing day, given the high, muddy and fast river current they were dealing with. The only place they could find any fish was in eddies.

Said the guide, "We had only caught 11 fish in six hours, which is bad for someone in my line of business."

To make matters worse, the boat's trolling motor had died halfway through the trip. Then it started raining hard...so hard that the client decided he had had enough and said he wanted to call it a day.

"I let him off at the access point," said the guide, "and beached the boat so the client could gather his gear and depart. Meanwhile, I had no choice but to sit in the pouring rain 'cause my wife had my truck, and it would be another hour before she was supposed to return for me.

"By the time she got there, I was soaked and so cold that I had to jump in the truck and warm up for a few minutes. When I returned to where I had beached the boat, it was nowhere to be found. The water had risen considerably after I beached the boat, and it now was about 50 feet from shore, headed downriver.

"I had no choice but to go in after the boat. My hip boots immediately filled, because I was in chest-deep water. I finally had to take the boots off to get into the boat.

"Once back home, I took a very long, hot shower and tried to forget just how bad this day had been."

Helping Kids Get Hooked on Fishing...That's What Old-Timers Do

"It was the third time the young man in this photo had come into my store," said the shop owner. "Every time, he had been full of yes sirs, no sirs, pleases, and thank yous. He had been wanting to buy a fishing rod and reel, 'cause his daddy wouldn't let him borrow his anymore. On this day, he had come in with $5.

"Because of his extraordinarily good manners and politeness, he left my store with a $50 rod and reel...and his $5. 'Go fishing and enjoy being a kid,' I encouraged."

As the shop owner admitted afterward, "When I was a kid, a few old-timers took time to help me on my way. One of the best things about fishing is the people you meet."

That same philosophy played out in something else I found online and involved, as luck would have it, another 9-year-old boy and a lovable but notorious old-timer whom I'm going to refer to as HH.

It was one day in late winter or early spring when HH showed up at the door of the house where this second 9-year-old lived and asked if he would like to go trout fishing with him. After his mom had given her permission, she hustled her son off to bundle him up for the adventure. While going about this loathsome chore, she said, "Be careful if HH tries to show you any dirty magazines."

"Yes, Mom," he replied. "I'll be careful."

So HH and the 9-year-old loaded up in the former's red Ford pickup.

"A couple things I noticed right away," said the boy, "were the coffee can spitoon down by the shifter and a weird furry thing that covered the shift knob. What is that furry thing?" he asked.

"It's the nut sack of a buck I killed last year," came HH's response.

"That's cool!" thought the young fella...as he mentally added 100 points to HH in his list of personal mountain-man heroes.

A short while later, the duo arrived at their destination. A little creek flowed alongside the road where they had stopped. As they piled out of the truck, HH (as the boy would come to understand was customary with his newfound friend, regardless of the companion's age) offered the 9-year-old a chew of Copenhagen. He also offered the boy a pull off the large bottle in a brown sack, which, as he learned in his teenage years, was a bottle of Hood River vodka.

"Awful stuff," noted the boy, who refused both offerings. However, HH kept offering both items whenever he saw him over the next two decades. "In his mind, HH was just being neighborly," the boy reasoned.

Anyway, HH then dug out an ugly looking little rod, a can of worms, and along with the boy, headed down to the creek bank. The 9-year-old hadn't much more than gotten his line in the water when HH imparted the first of what would be the first of many pieces of advice over the years.

"If a game warden shows up, just toss the pole in the creek," he said. "Then tell him we're pickin' wild flowers.

As the boy eventually would learn, HH loved to pick wild flowers when nothing else was happening, so it was a plausible excuse. However, his mind was reeling at the impact of this information. After all, he now was a dreaded poacher. He also was facing his first moral dilemma.

"But what about your pole?" the boy asked HH. "Won't we lose it?"

The 9-year-old quickly figured out, though, that this was why the pole looked so crappy in the first place. And he just kept on fishing...and soon caught his first trout. HH shared a lot of things with the lad about fishing on the banks of that little creek, and what had started as an obsession grew with intensity over the ensuing years.

"Now don't be getting any awful ideas about ol' HH," said the young lad. "He was a flawed man...perhaps even deeply so...but he was a good man. He helped me catch my first trout, gave me my first fly vise, showed me how to prune an apple tree, and showed me how to bone out a deer quarter with but a few swipes of the blade.

"Later on, there would be things about his character that would give me pause," the lad continued. "But then my dad always would remind me of the good things about HH, like when he helped my folks move into a little house affectionately known as the 'chicken coop' (yes, it actually was a remodeled chicken coop).

"And while HH didn't know my parents from Adam," the lad noted, "he had heard that my dad didn't have any firewood, so he showed up one day and took my dad out to cut a load of wood. My dad didn't even have a chainsaw yet. A week or so later, both of my dad's trucks were broken down, and there was no way he could get to work. HH showed up and loaned my parents his wife's car. Keep in mind that my parents were complete strangers from California. He literally was the kind of man who would give you the shirt off his back. He never failed to wave at complete strangers when driving down the road, and he loved to just stop his truck right in the middle of the road and chew the fat for a while."

Years later, after the 9-year-old had grown up and was married, he and his wife moved back to that little valley next door to old HH. Because he couldn't get around very good anymore, the young couple helped him until he died.

As HH's grown-up fishin' buddy noted, "Every young boy ought to have his very own old man to teach him how to be and how not to be. I miss HH an awful lot. I thought he'd live forever. He was always old but never yet seemed to really age. The sad thing about all the old-timers I grew up knowing is that they've all passed on now. That's like being blessed and cursed at the same time. Only an old-timer has time for a kid, and yet you know that death looms at the door of your relationship.

"The best part of my relationship with HH is knowing that a week before he died, he was baptized in a bathtub, so I know I'll get to fish with him again one day."

Not Bad for a Second Choice...If I Do Say So Myself

I searched and searched but couldn't find a funny Halloween bass-fishing story, so I settled for this joke as told by a fellow bass fisherman. Hope it tickles your funny bone. Incidentally, I apologize in advance should anyone be offended by it.

A bald man with a wooden leg gets invited to a Halloween party. He doesn't know what costume to wear to hide his head and his leg, so he writes to a costume company to explain his problem. A few days later, he receives a parcel with the following note inside:

Dear Sir,

Please find enclosed a pirate's outfit. The spotted handkerchief will cover your bald head and, with your wooden leg, you will be just right as a pirate.

Very truly yours,
Acme Costume Company

The man thinks this is terrible because they have emphasized his wooden leg, and so he writes a letter of complaint.

A week goes by, and he receives another parcel, along with another note that reads:

Dear Sir,

Please find enclosed a monk's costume. The long robe will cover your wooden leg and, with your bald head, you really will look the part.

Very truly yours,
Acme Costume Company

Now the man is really upset, since they have gone from emphasizing his wooden leg to emphasizing his bald head. So, again he writes the company another nasty letter of complaint.

The next day, he gets yet another small parcel and a note, which reads as follows:

Dear Sir,

We have tried our very best. Please find enclosed a bottle of molasses and a bag of crushed nuts. Pour the molasses over your bald head, pat on the crushed nuts, stick your wooden leg up your butt, and go as a caramel apple.

Very truly yours,
Acme Costume Company

November 2021 Best Fishing Times

Boundary Tournament Season Gets Underway

A total of 25 anglers in 14 boats shoved off from the Waterlily Boat Ramp in Coinjock, NC, yesterday morning, officially setting the fall-winter 2021-2022 Boundary Bass Club season in motion.

Claiming first place in this North River event was the team of (from left) Gabe Himmelwright and Mark Ingram, who brought a limit of five bass to the scales, with a total weight of 16.08 lbs. Their kicker fish weighed in at 5.13 lbs.

Walking away with second place was the team of (from left) David Dozier and Richard Hall, who also weighed in five fish, weighing a total of 14.59 lbs. Their big fish came in at 3.80 lbs.

Rounding out the winners' circle was Rob Peppers, who weighed the lunker of the day, a 7.49-lb. bass. He and his partner, Dave Anderson, had a total of four fish, with a total weight of 11.69 lbs.

The remaining anglers who weighed fish finished in the following order:

     * The team of Mark London and John Goodman, five fish, total weight 10.48 lbs., with a 4.49-lb. kicker.
     * The team of Sid Ryan and Kevin Massie, five fish, total weight 10.45 lbs., no big fish.
     * The team of Kevin Versprille and David Anderson, five fish, total weight 8.72 lbs., no big fish.
     * The team of Dustin Alley and Tev Collins, five fish, total weight 7.11 lbs., no big fish.
     * The team of Colton Wynne and Bob Clarkson, three fish, total weight 6.75 lbs., no big fish.
     * Richard Woods, one fish, total weight 2.09 lbs., no big fish.

Those anglers who did not weigh any fish were as follows: the team of Steve Bailey and Dennis Dean, Red Bruun, Josh Fenneman, the team of Fisher Bryan and Daryl Allen, and the team of Tim Clark and Ray Allen.

The next Boundary Bass Club tournament is scheduled for the North Landing on Nov. 20th, from the Pungo Ferry Ramp. The event after that is scheduled for the Pasquotank. Both of these tournaments are billed with an 8 a.m. launch and a 3 p.m. weigh-in; however, registration for each will close at 7:30 a.m. the morning of the tournament to allow Gabe and Mark time to ensure everyone gets in the water and is ready to go.

For Period Ending Sunday, Nov. 7, 2021

Saturday, Oct. 30 (from Ron)...Decided to get a fish finder. Been playing with it and am reminded why I didn't like the old one years ago. I didn't like seeing fish that wouldn't bite. It, however, was interesting to see below the yak in the deep lake, and I did manage to catch a couple of dinks, as well as a crappie.

Wednesday, Nov. 3 (from Ron)...Got back into my old haunt: Milldam. The temps were cooler, but the bite was hot this evening. Caught a half-dozen bass, some chain picks and a crappie. A spinnerbait and the XTS Minnow jerkbait were my tickets to success. Tried some plastics and topwater but had no luck with them. Oddly, all my catches were mid-channel (deeper river bends); nothing from the shoreline. Was great to be back in ol' Milldam!

Beware of the Rumors Floating Around About Aaron Martens

Word from Aaron's wife, Lesley, indicates that Facebook and some other platforms started circulating rumors on Oct. 25th that the 49-year-old professional bass angler had passed. The Martens family, however, quickly termed them as "unfounded and incorrect," and said that Aaron continues to battle cancer at home.

In his latest issue of the BassBlaster, Jay Kumar included a note from Aaron's mom, Carol, which read in part as follows:

"Aaron currently is not texting or taking calls, but he knows how many of you are praying for him, and he loves you all. He is on the edge of heaven or a miraculous turn around. Most of our family have been to Alabama to be with him. I felt compelled to give you this update, knowing how concerned many of you are. Our hope and faith is in God, and He gives us peace."

In case anyone has forgotten, Martens suffered a massive seizure in April 2020 while fishing. Subsequent tests revealed the presence of two cancerous brain tumors. Since then, he has had two brain surgeries and has endured almost constant chemotherapy for a year and a half.

Aaron turned pro at 21 and eventually moved to Alabama to be closer to the heart of the national pro bass fishing circuits. Today, he makes his home in Leeds, AL, with Lesley, his wife of 23 years; daughter, Jordan, 17; and son, Spencer, 14.

His competition resume includes three Bassmaster Elite Series Angler of the Year awards (2005, 1013 and 2015), 11 wins, more than 80 Top 10s, and more than $3.6 million in career earnings.

Some Regrets Are Harder To Live With Than Others

Sometimes it's a family member, sometimes a friend, or it even could just be an acquaintance that we somehow wrong, and then the unthinkable happens. He/she passes suddenly, before we get around to righting that wrong.

Oh sure, I know there likely are some heartless people who would escape any torment whatsoever in such circumstances. There are those who simply can't or refuse to feel any empathy or compassion for others. However, I want to believe that the vast majority of us would find it very uncomfortable, to say the least, finding a way to deal with the ugly feelings we likely would experience in circumstances such as this.

I recently read about an angler who found himself utterly filled with remorse upon hearing that one of his best friends had suddenly departed this life without warning. The angler subsequently penned the article that follows as a heartfelt apology to this friend.

"I write this article through blurry, tear-filled eyes, in an attempt to save others from the same gut-wrenching pain I've recently experienced...pain that makes me sick to my stomach," he wrote.

"We all have friends in our lives," he continued, "who would walk to the ends of the earth for us...friends who would walk across miles of broken glass if it meant helping us...a special breed of person who can make you laugh uncontrollably with a simple facial expression or have a three-hour phone conversation to console you during a tough time."

The angler's friend was like that.

"He was the funniest individual on Planet Earth. Whether hanging his head out the window of his truck while howling old Garth Brooks songs to innocent passersby, or texting you a ridiculously stupid late-night selfie 'just because,' he never met a stranger. Everyone with whom he came into contact immediately fell in love with him. I've never heard anyone say a bad word about him."

At just 26 years old, the angler's friend passed away unexpectedly just a few short weeks after marrying the love of his life.

"My body went numb when I heard the news," said the angler. "My face and hands tingled. My mouth went dry. I couldn't swallow for the lump in my throat, and it felt like someone had stabbed me in my stomach. I looked out my office window as tears dripped onto my blue Yamaha fishing hoodie. One of my biggest supporters was gone, and I didn't know how to handle it...I still don't.

"My emotions go through different stages each day. Sometimes, I'm mad about it because he was one of those people of which the world needs more. Other days, when I'm sitting in my deer stand or watching the sunset from my bass boat, I feel him with me and cry like a baby without telling a soul. But throughout this proverbial roller coaster of emotions, one sentiment remains constant: regret.

"Why? Because all my friend ever asked of me was to take him fishing. He asked repeatedly. I never got the impression he asked because he wanted to catch fish, although he would have loved to get his hands on a 5-pound fatty. All he wanted was to spend a day on the water with me, laughing and cutting up, making ridiculous jokes, and talking about the simple things in life. Lord knows he and I could have a spirited conversation about both women and nature.

"And I failed him. I'll repeat that: I completely failed one of my best friends. I never took him fishing...I never will, for as long as I'm blessed to live, have another opportunity to make things right.

"I was always 'too busy.' I always had somewhere to be. I always had a tournament to fish. I always had a guide trip to do. I always was on the road. I always had something going on. My selfish mind could not fathom taking time out of my day for someone who meant so much to me. And I absolutely hate that to the core of my being.

"I even forgot to RSVP to his wedding invitation, and he personally texted me to ask if I was coming. I told him I wasn't able to attend due to a fishing tournament...that's right, a darn fishing tournament. I chose to chase little fish around instead of watching one of the best men I've ever known marry his beautiful and very faithful fiancee. What a selfish and repugnant decision that was.

"We all have time. Being busy does not and never will make us special. Everyone is busy. What really makes one special is selflessness, compromise and careful consideration toward the feelings of those we hold close to our hearts. It's a shame it took me 27 years and the loss of a beautiful soul to grasp that concept.

"If you don't have time to take your buddy fishing, make time. Don't make excuses. And don't let your love of this great sport hinder you from experiencing the beauty of life. It's not going to kill you to spend the day with your significant other, instead of being on the water. It's not going to be the end of the world if you take a half-day from work to take your best friend or dad fishing. This is the stuff that matters. Fishing is just a supplement to a full and love-rich life."

None of us know when a hug or conversation with a family member, friend or acquaintance will be the last one ever.

"To all you men, don't be so worried about being manly," the angler continued. "Bear hug your buddies and your women when you see them. Hold their hands and pray together in the boat. Tell them how much they mean to you. Pride is an ugly, deceptive beast...of which I'm living proof.

"And to my departed friend, I say again, 'I'm so sorry for everything. You deserved better, and I'll never forgive myself for it. You put light into my life through some rough personal times, and I'll never forget each and every conversation and heartfelt laugh we had. As tears continue to roll down my face and that familiar lump returns to my throat, I want you to know that I love you. I talk to you all the time when I'm fishing, and though it's not as good as the real thing, I know you hear me because you accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior. For that, I'm thankful. For your dedicated friendship, I'm thankful. And for the memories I'll take to my grave, I'm eternally thankful. 'Til the next sunset, my brother.'"

For Week Ending Sunday, Oct. 24, 2021

Wednesday, Oct. 20 (from Ron)...Have been wanting to target these prolific bait steelers for six years and finally did with the help of a fellow kayaker. 'Twas a long, long trip, but it paid off. Now that I've scratched that itch, I will spend some days recovering, doing reel maintenance, eating fish, and prepping gear to get back in the freshwater. The sea bass was a surprise, as the area doesn't usually hold keepers.

Saturday, Oct. 23 (from Ron)...Ventured out into the freshwater after a very long hiatus. Had only a few hits, a few misses, and a lone 1-9 bass for the effort. Sure was a nice morning out there.

Sunday, Oct. 24 (from Ron)...Did the annual head-boat trip and got a bunch of black sea bass for a taco dinner.










Sunday, Oct. 24 (from Wayne and Ken)...Had a call from Wayne on Friday, asking if I wanted to join him for a few hours on the water this morning, so I jumped at the chance. We launched about 7:15 this morning, then quit about 12 noon. Caught a combined total of six bass and lost one more while it was en route to the boat. What would have been a cool shot if I had had my camera with me today was when Wayne boated a pair of fish on the same lure at the same time. On the front hook of his crankbait was a bass that weighed 5 lbs., and the rear hook held one that would have tipped the scales at about a pound. It wasn't until he had the two fish alongside the boat that he opted to use the net. The fish didn't act like they had any size to 'em until that point. Wayne's only question at that moment was: Where was that 5-pounder during the tournament last weekend? For that matter, where were any of the fish that we caught today? They all were better than any we weighed last weekend. Crankbaits, a chatterbait, and a worm all proved productive today...until, that is, the wind started stirring about 10 a.m. Only had one bite after that...the fish that escaped before we could get it in the boat.

Is Bass Fishing a Matter of Luck or Skill?

After spending much of today digging around the Internet, I'm inclined to believe that the vast majority of seasoned anglers everywhere attribute the lion's share of their success to skills they've developed over the years through spending time on the water. Most, however, don't necessarily dismiss the subject of luck as having something to do with it--at least part of the time. That group includes Tim Little, who is tournament partner with Matt Allen of Tactical Bassin' fame.

A bit of luck came Tim's way one day, while he was on Clearlake in Northern California, fishing an S-Waver 200 swimbait in light trout color. As you'll see in the accompanying video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7JKwOVqYw6E&t=186s), he gets bit several times but doesn't connect on the hookset, which is where the luck factor kicks in. Thinking he's just missed a bite, Tim has no clue...yet...that he's enticed a wolf pack of big largemouth into attacking his bait. He immediately gets bit again, sets the hook, and breaks off the 30-lb. leader he was using with 65-lb. braid at the time.

What Tim didn't know was that he earlier had nicked his leader, and it no longer was equal to 30-lb. test. Reckon that example pretty much puts the kibosh on the old saying, "What you don't know can't hurt you," huh?

In any event, though, Tim didn't grumble about just losing a big bass...or his $35 lure. As luck would have it, you see, a second bass from the wolf pack tried to steal the bait from the bass that had broken him off. Now, there were two bass (one on the front hook, another on the rear hook) fighting each other over the bait they're both hooked to. The fighting was so vicious they actually were doing cartwheels through the water.

Tim subsequently sprang into action with his net and scooped up both big Clearlake bass, as well as his expensive swimbait.

There's no arguing that, at this time, on this day, luck was on Tim's side. Too often, things go terribly wrong. Gear fails, boats break down, bass don't bite, and/or weather doesn't cooperate. But if you stay prepared, the day will come when luck favors you, and perhaps you, too, will have a day go from bad to worse...to epic!

In case you haven't heard, both Tim Little and Matt Allen have moved themselves and their families from California to Tennessee, joining a growing throng of nationally known anglers who have made such a move and now call Chickamauga Lake their "home lake."

Boundary Bass Club Set to Open Tournament Season Oct. 30th

If you're interested in fishing some tournaments on various waterways in the area, here's a chance to do just that.

Gabe Himmelwright informed me last evening that this club's season opener will take place on the North River, with the full schedule to be available in a week or so.

The Oct. 30th event will launch at safe light from Coinjock (also known as Waterlilly) Boat Ramp, 482 Waterlily Road, Coinjock, NC 27923 (the new site, as of 10/23/2021). Weigh-in will be at 3 p.m. Plans call for two tournaments per month through March.

To receive email updates, sign up online by clicking on this link (https://www.boundarybassclub.com) and provide your email address in the designated area at the bottom of the page.

In the meantime, here are the club’s tournament rules for the season about to begin:

     * Must stay within boundaries set before tournament. Anyone who leaves these limits will be disqualified.
     * All live wells must be checked by tournament director prior to launch.
     * 5-fish limit.
     * 12-inch limit in Virginia, 14-inch limit in North Carolina.
     * No culling at launch. Max of 5 fish in live well.
     * Dead-fish penalty is 0.25 lbs. or 4 ozs. With 4 or more dead fish, you can’t weigh.
     * Dead fish are not eligible for the big-fish prize. If the fish isn’t going to survive, it counts as a dead fish and a loss of .25 lbs.
     * Observe all no-wake zones and all safe loading practices.
     * No fishing within 75 yards of someone else (unless both parties agree).
     * $20 per person.
     * $10 big fish per person.
     * $5 launch fee when applicable.
     * Life jackets must be worn if the gas motor is in gear.
     * All protests must be made prior to winner being announced.
     * Tournament director has final say…period!
     * Winter rules: Launch at 8, with 3-fish limit.

Please refer any questions to Gabe at 757-651-4395, ‘cause I’m just the middle man here.

I Keep Hearing It Takes Patience and Persistence for Successful Bass Fishing

If when making that statement, you mean anglers should avoid the early-day antics of someone like Mike Iaconnelli, then I wholeheartedly support your take on the subject. But I can't get behind the idea of just saying, "Oh well..." when a tournament is involved and nothing is going right.

Having just come off our annual two-day season-ending event in which that was the scenario, I would be less than truthful if I didn't admit that I was running a tad short on patience by Day 2. The reality is that I was totally frustrated with our one-fish Day 1, followed by having only one "in the hole" yet again at 11 o'clock on the second day.

My frustration finally boiled over, and I decided to throw reason out the window and do something really stupid...by most standards, anyway.

While Wayne was fishing the outside line (with soft plastics) on a couple of trees, located well off the shoreline, I picked up a craw-colored square-bill and just started heaving "Hail Mary" casts anywhere and everywhere. And guess what? I hadn't made but three or four such casts before I actually felt a fish hit my crankbait as it bumped off a submerged stump. Wayne picked up his crankbait and, only seconds later, picked off another fish. And the fishin' actually became catchin' for the next hour and a half.

When we called it quits, we had five in the hole. Granted, they were all "just keepers," but our efforts had...at long last...been rewarded. And our mounting frustration over the two insufferably windy days finally had been assuaged.

If I had any feelings of guilt for my actions, they quickly disappeared earlier today after reading an article by an outdoor writer who said he remembers fishing with a lot of successful anglers over the years who, in his opinion, weren't patient at all.

"In fact," he said, "they usually were quite impatient. Here's why.

"For most people, our time spent fishing is limited. We just can't be out there every day. And since we're fishing, we want to catch some fish, and more is better than a few. For those reasons, it doesn't work well to be patient. We need to get after it. We need to spend time fishing the areas where the fish are, and then we need to show them a bait they are willing to eat.

"If you have confidence in a particular area, it's OK to spend a little extra time there, but don't fish memories," he noted. "Just because you caught fish there yesterday or last year doesn't mean they'll be there now.

"The same thing is true with lure selection. Many anglers have their favorite lure, and if you want to start with that favorite, and if it's appropriate for the area being fished, by all means tie it on. But if you believe fish are in the area and your favorite lure isn't their favorite thing to eat at the current time, give them another offering. I have many memories of fish liking a particular bait one day but refusing it the next. They sometimes even change preferences on an hourly basis."

This outdoor writer went on to acknowledge that "people go fishing for a variety of reasons, and that's the appeal of fishing. If you enjoy throwing a bobber off a dock and watching it while you watch other things going on, that's wonderful. But if you want to catch more fish, patience, for the most part, is not the answer. Keep moving, keep trying different presentations, keep doing whatever it takes to get a fish to inhale your lure, and you'll catch more fish," he concluded.

"Works for me"...or so the saying goes.

2021 Tournament Year Comes to an End

A 17-degree temperature drop between yesterday and today wasn't enough to drive away any of the 20 Classic contestants in 13 boats, except for one fella who wasn't feeling well this morning. The anglers weighed a total of 90 bass for the two days, yielding an overall total weight of 155.44 lbs., with an average weight of 1.72 lbs. per fish and an overall average weight per boat of 11.95 lbs.

The list of those competitors who won prize money today included the following:

1st Place, Rusty Girard, two-day total of 10 fish, overall total weight 28.09 lbs., with a 5.34-lb. kicker, which also earned him the tournament's big-fish prize.

2nd Place, Chris Napier, two-day total of 10 fish, overall total weight 16.41 lbs., no big fish either day.

3rd Place, the team of (from left) Dave Anderson and Gary Coderre, two-day total of 10 fish, overall total weight 16.27 lbs., no big fish either day.

Here's how all the other anglers fell into line:

     * The team of Rob Peppers and Don Carter, two-day total of 10 fish, overall total weight 15.30 lbs., no big fish either day.

     * The team of (from left) Gabe Himmelwright (the 2021 AOY) and Fred Crawford, two-day total of six fish, overall total weight 14.46 lbs., 3.44-lb. big fish

     * The team of Mark Ingram and Bob Clarkson, two-day total of nine fish, overall total weight 13.43 lbs., 2.77-lb. big fish.

     * The team of Steve Bailey and Dennis Dean, two-day total of 10 fish, overall total weight 13.15 lbs., 2.44-lb. big fish.

     * The husband-wife team of (from left) Andy and Diana Morath, two-day total of six fish, overall total weight 12.06 lbs., no big fish. However, Diana won the 2021 seasonal-lunker prize with a bass that tipped the scales at 7.53 lbs. back on May 2nd.

     * Jim Calhoun, two-day total of seven fish, overall total weight 10.92 lbs., 4.12-lb. big fish.

     * Bobby Moore, one-day total of five fish (did not fish Day 2), overall total weight 6.80 lbs., no big fish.

     * The team of Wayne Hayes and Ken Testorff, two-day total of six fish, overall total weight 6.73 lbs., no big fish.

     * The team of Rob Chatham and Craig Jones, two-day total of one fish, overall total weight of 1.82 lbs., no big fish.

Congratulations to the winners and to all those who earned their right to participate in this annual event by fishing a minimum of six qualifier tournaments.

Sincere thanks also go to our tournament director Wayne Hayes, who put together another flawless season and kept the legacy of Dewey Mullins alive with these events for another year. A job extremely well done! my friend and tournament partner, especially considering that you're still working full-time.

Last but not least, it's fitting we further say "thank you" to Steve Winfree for putting on another tremendous cookout at the conclusion of our two-day tournament. Our hats are off to you, Steve, for all the tasty nourishments you provided this lot of hungry fishing guys and gals today.

One Last Cast

Southwest winds at 15-25 mph with higher gusts Saturday, followed by northwest winds at 15-25 mph with higher gusts today made for some tough casting and boat control...on that point, I think we all would agree. The only truly anxious moment, however, I had these past two days occurred yesterday, as Wayne and I were headed south.

As is always the case this time of the year, there was a throng of big boats headed south for the winter yesterday. My partner Wayne and I also were headed south in his Ranger bass boat, en route to our first fishing spot.

Neither of us, however, were looking for what was about to happen. We were maneuvering over the wakes of a line of these "big boys," as well as another bass boat, when Wayne's Ranger suddenly slipped into one of the deep troughs being created. Without warning, we both looked up just in time to see a wall of water coming over the bow. All we could do was brace for the drenching that we knew was as certain as the fact the sun will rise in the morning.

I have to admit we took some degree of satisfaction in the fact that Saturday's air temperature at that time of morning wasn't half bad, compared to what we had this morning. We indeed were lucky, since both of us stayed wet all day long yesterday. If that incident had happened this morning, given the air temperatures that greeted us, we both might have had to throw in the towel and head home for a change of clothes.

(With thanks to Gabe for the above photo, which he captured while Wayne and I were taking some of our final licks Sunday in "dry" attire.)

Epilog

As Wayne took care of cinching down the bow strap of his boat yesterday afternoon, he left the o/b motor running and asked me to jump in the driver's seat. That way, I'd be ready to mash on the hotfoot a bit if needed to hold the boat snug against the roller.

While this was going on, Rob Chatham snapped the accompanying photo, showing just how out of place I would look at the helm of a Ranger. Given the price tag on a boat like this nowadays, I can assure you there is absolutely no chance of that ever happening.

Besides, I don't mind riding in a boat capable of speeds in excess of 70 mph, especially when I know the experience and skills of the driver, but just the thought of my doing that gives me chills up and down my spine.