Bass Buggin'

 I didn’t get to the lake until three o’clock that afternoon. It’s a lake that sort of fell off my radar, though I don’t know why. I ‘ve enjoyed good fishing in the past but I guess when there’s plenty of water to fish some of the places get lost or forgotten in the shuffle. It’s one of a group of four lakes, all with the same name followed by the unimaginative designation of a number. I pushed my boat into Number Three to cast a half-mile of the rocky south shoreline.   

No need to go far from the dock to start fishing. I took my position up front and dropped the trolling motor in place.  I started with a yellow/red deer hair diver-type fly that looked good to me. A halfhearted hit from a small fish on the third cast seemed like a good sign, and fifteen minutes later I was fighting a good smallmouth that didn’t want to give up. I like fish photos as well as anyone and it was the kind of fish you’d like to have a photo of, but I didn’t have the camera set up like I do for those pics when I’m fishing solo.

Despite the early action, things came to a standstill after that. Moving slowly out from the shore I couldn’t raise another fish. Time to try something else, I lowered the anchor to change flies. You can sit and gaze into a fly box at rows of deer hair, foam, and rubber legs for quite a while, trying to decide what the bass may hunger for. I picked a Dahlberg Diver and was just lifting the anchor when I heard the sound of an approaching outboard motor. 

  

This is a good-sized lake, over a thousand acres and the west and northern shorelines are heavily developed. I fish the shallow bays and islands around the south end, in the unpopulated boundary of the state park – around Big Toe Island, Ruthies Island, and through the shallow narrows towards Bear Bay. Most anglers head out into the main lake for walleyes and I had to wonder what the heck a boat was doing coming right at me. As the distance closed I recognized the boat and uniform of the conservation officer. He pulled up next to me and introduced himself before asking for my license. Then I showed the PFD I wasn't wearing before he asked about a throwable floatation device. I remembered the boat cushion that's been resting for years at the bottom of the compartment under the rear seat. I opened the lid and pulled out another life jacket and my rainsuit, all the time hoping that cushion was still there. It was and the C.O. informed me that it needed to be out and easily accessible.  

The lawman was friendly and I’m sure he’s heard it all, but I couldn’t resist pointing out that I was alone and if I fell out of the boat, I’d have to climb back in to toss the cushion and then jump back into the lake to use it. He politely chuckled but like I said, he’s heard it before. Then he was interested in my fly-fishing gear and we enjoyed a nice visit before he was off to patrol the rest of the lake.  

It was nearing suppertime, and I was working my way back when the bass exploded on a green foam sort of diver I started tying last year. The fly has no official name – I just call it my guide fly because it’s easy to tie with minimal material. “Bearded Bass Bug” has been suggested. We’ll see.   

Suddenly, I was into them. Smallmouth fight like the dickens, and when they’re enough to fill the net you know you have something. I don’t know how many were landed, but I lost a couple I wish I hadn’t. 

The weather has been stormy and fishing in wind, rain, and lightning is not for me, but the fishing was too good to ignore so I was back a few days later. It started slow with a couple of half-hearted hits from small fish, before a slashing strike from a small pike had me glad for wire bite guards. Most of the hits came when I let the fly land and sit for agonizingly long minutes. An hour or so later I stopped for a coffee break and to change flies. After casting the area, I left the fly on the water while pulling the anchor. I kind of chuckled to myself at the thought of a strike when gripping a handful of anchor rope. Sure enough, a bass hit the fly and spit it out before I could grab my rod. Glad no one saw that!