Last week was lots of fun, but very tiring. Six nights of Vacation Bible School (I was taking photos of all the activities) had me just wanting to sleep in Saturday morning. Before the Commencement Ceremony on Friday night, Ted and I were talking about fishing. See, Ted and Jimmi Gail own the pond known all over Telfair County as the Coca Cola Pond. The employees of the local Coke bottling plant used the area for company picnics and such for many years, until they bought it in the early nineties.
Jimmi Gail and Ted can be found sitting to my left on the third pew from the front during worship. Ted and I are side by side in the Choir – we are the only two with voices deep enough to sing the bass parts.
Jimmi Gail and Ted can be found sitting to my left on the third pew from the front during worship. Ted and I are side by side in the Choir – we are the only two with voices deep enough to sing the bass parts.
At least it is a Joyful Noise, Psalm 100:1.
Ted had been under the weather since the week before Easter. And we had a bunch of catching up to do. “Bob, whatcha doing tomorrow morning?” He wanted some company and he wanted to go fishing.
I was tempted to reply with, “Sleeping in till noon!” But I knew that wasn’t the answer Ted was looking for. So I said instead, “Nothing, whatcha got in mind?”
So a plan was set. I would head over to his house early Saturday AM with fishing gear in the back of the truck. A cup of coffee for Ted is resting in the cup holder as I pull into the driveway. I start out with my flyrod and a Peacock Herl Ant on the end of my tippet. As the fly breaks the surface of the water with a ripple, a small Blue Gill leaps out of the water with the barbless hook firmly in its upper lip. Repeat, repeat, repeat!!!
The coffee was cool enough to drink at this time, and we sat down in the white plastic chairs beside the pond. Ted had brought his long pole with a # 12 hook and a bag containing about a half dozen slices white bread. This was the bait for the rest of the morning. White bread is shaped into a dough ball on the hook. I matched his rig with mine and we went to the task of catching brim, bluegill and red breast. No sooner did the little sphere of bread make a splash in the tea colored water would another hand size fish grab hold and make the ultra light fishing line sing.
Well, all that splashing got the attention of some others. As Ted pulled in one of the brim, something much, much larger broke the surface. BASS!!! And a big one!!!
We looked at each other without saying a word… Our expressions, however, spoke volumes. I walk back to the truck and get my Bait Casting rod. I bought this rod and reel in 1999 and had never really taken it fishing. Strung with 6 pound test line to keep the wary bass from taking note of something strange in its environment, I was wondering if this was going to hold up to the pending fight. I set the drag on the reel to near zero. Even if I don’t land you Ol’ Girl, I am going have me some fun before you break my line!
A #6 hook is tied on the end and my largest bobber is placed about 18” above the hook. OK, that rig is ready. Now I need to catch the bait. One drop of the bread ball hook yields another small brim and a subsequent splash. The two ounce brim is hooked through the upper lip. The large bobber is there to prevent the brim from hiding the tangle of grass at the bottom of the pond.
The brim and bobber make a loud splash as it enters the water about 25 feet from the bank. The little brim struggles beneath the bobber trying to find shelter in the grass below. But it is not to be. The bobber disappears into the brew. Twenty feet, thirty, forty feet of line is taken toward the center of the pond. “Easy, easy…NOW”, Ted instructs from the sidelines. A slow set of the hook is all it takes and the fight is on. With the drag at one of the lowest setting, I only reel in an inch or two with each turn. “Slow and easy, that’s it”, Ted encourages. “Now, show Bob how you can dance”… Sure enough the bass finally breaks the surface and rewards me with a pirouette and twirl of the tail. Then her mistake is made. Instead of retreating back to deeper water, she heads to the shallows of the shoreline. I quickly reel in the slack and bringing her into the green gauze of grass along the bank. I hand the rod to Ted as I place one foot into the water. I reach my hand toward the open mouth. In one last act of defiance, she closes the lid on the coffee can.
On shore, Ted is beaming. He sees my excitement and pats me on the back. The hook set was solid, she wasn’t going anywhere. Photos are taken and the bass is weighed.
9 pounds 10 ounces, 23 ½ inches long
We go back to fishing, I land her smaller cousin about five minutes later:
4 pounds 12 ounces.
I have quit smiling? NOT YET!!!
Ted had been under the weather since the week before Easter. And we had a bunch of catching up to do. “Bob, whatcha doing tomorrow morning?” He wanted some company and he wanted to go fishing.
I was tempted to reply with, “Sleeping in till noon!” But I knew that wasn’t the answer Ted was looking for. So I said instead, “Nothing, whatcha got in mind?”
So a plan was set. I would head over to his house early Saturday AM with fishing gear in the back of the truck. A cup of coffee for Ted is resting in the cup holder as I pull into the driveway. I start out with my flyrod and a Peacock Herl Ant on the end of my tippet. As the fly breaks the surface of the water with a ripple, a small Blue Gill leaps out of the water with the barbless hook firmly in its upper lip. Repeat, repeat, repeat!!!
The coffee was cool enough to drink at this time, and we sat down in the white plastic chairs beside the pond. Ted had brought his long pole with a # 12 hook and a bag containing about a half dozen slices white bread. This was the bait for the rest of the morning. White bread is shaped into a dough ball on the hook. I matched his rig with mine and we went to the task of catching brim, bluegill and red breast. No sooner did the little sphere of bread make a splash in the tea colored water would another hand size fish grab hold and make the ultra light fishing line sing.
Well, all that splashing got the attention of some others. As Ted pulled in one of the brim, something much, much larger broke the surface. BASS!!! And a big one!!!
We looked at each other without saying a word… Our expressions, however, spoke volumes. I walk back to the truck and get my Bait Casting rod. I bought this rod and reel in 1999 and had never really taken it fishing. Strung with 6 pound test line to keep the wary bass from taking note of something strange in its environment, I was wondering if this was going to hold up to the pending fight. I set the drag on the reel to near zero. Even if I don’t land you Ol’ Girl, I am going have me some fun before you break my line!
A #6 hook is tied on the end and my largest bobber is placed about 18” above the hook. OK, that rig is ready. Now I need to catch the bait. One drop of the bread ball hook yields another small brim and a subsequent splash. The two ounce brim is hooked through the upper lip. The large bobber is there to prevent the brim from hiding the tangle of grass at the bottom of the pond.
The brim and bobber make a loud splash as it enters the water about 25 feet from the bank. The little brim struggles beneath the bobber trying to find shelter in the grass below. But it is not to be. The bobber disappears into the brew. Twenty feet, thirty, forty feet of line is taken toward the center of the pond. “Easy, easy…NOW”, Ted instructs from the sidelines. A slow set of the hook is all it takes and the fight is on. With the drag at one of the lowest setting, I only reel in an inch or two with each turn. “Slow and easy, that’s it”, Ted encourages. “Now, show Bob how you can dance”… Sure enough the bass finally breaks the surface and rewards me with a pirouette and twirl of the tail. Then her mistake is made. Instead of retreating back to deeper water, she heads to the shallows of the shoreline. I quickly reel in the slack and bringing her into the green gauze of grass along the bank. I hand the rod to Ted as I place one foot into the water. I reach my hand toward the open mouth. In one last act of defiance, she closes the lid on the coffee can.
On shore, Ted is beaming. He sees my excitement and pats me on the back. The hook set was solid, she wasn’t going anywhere. Photos are taken and the bass is weighed.
9 pounds 10 ounces, 23 ½ inches long
We go back to fishing, I land her smaller cousin about five minutes later:
4 pounds 12 ounces.
I have quit smiling? NOT YET!!!
This one is for you, DAD!!!
