Every fisherman knows someone who
is blindly affectionate of one particular lure, some more logical than
others.
As a young and impressionable
victim of the fishing industry, in the beginning of my years fishing solo, the
majority of my fishing took place on my grandparents’ dock on a 36-acre lake
filled with sunken timber and the traditional southern mix of largemouth bass,
sunfish, and crappie.
At that time, I was particularly
fond of the cool, fishy-looking lures with lots of hooks, especially the ones
with the big noses. I never landed any
of Old Creek Lake’s monster bass, because my gear could never budge them from
their home rooted on the lake-bottom; but they always had a soft spot for those
lures, and their strikes were halting and fierce.
I had them patterned pretty well,
too. They “related” to particular
features of the shoreline, and were homebodies that never really moved much,
except for when the water level rose or fell they would move deeper or
shallower, respectively.
My luck fishing that lake was the
reason for my early devotion to trebled lures.
Plus, I’m pretty sure I was the only eight-year-old habitually laying
down tens for $7 crankbaits in the local tackle shop following trips to the
grandparents’—which must have looked pretty cool.
Later, Chris McCotter, a local
guide, introduced me to a cool little lure called a swimbait. It too looked like a fish, but lacked the tactical
appeal lent by many sinister hooks.
However, what the lure lacked in pointiness it made up for in fish.
I began catching fish of all
species with the lure, and it became one of my go-to's. Even in the woody lakes, though I still
couldn’t handle the unyielding bottom-dwelling monsters, I began catching fish
and saving money.
Now, somewhat informed, and a
devoted crazy to the sport of fishing, Berkley’s Rippleshad is a staple in my
tackle box. In introducing my brother to
fishing, I forced him to purchase a few packs under my self-proclaimed truth
that they were good “all-around” plastics.
He fished the lure on occasion,
but never with much luck. He was a
non-believer, and my job was to convert him.
On a recent fishing trip
together, at a familiar farm pond, I tied on a Rippleshad initially, casually
throwing around pet names like “pearl gold” and “fish crack” in order to start
a bit of a friendly competition. I was
fighting for my beloved.
This is one bet that you make
confidently, but go into with a severe sense of struggle and desire not to fail. Fishing bets are among the most painful to
lose, not because they make you go bankrupt or give up a finger, but because
you will never ever hear the end of
it.
Phillip with his first pickerel. Photo by Matt Reilly |
My first cast was short-struck,
and a second with a slower retrieve produced the first fish—a small 10-inch
bass.
Several more fish came, many
pickerel, a few crappie, but mostly bass.
My brother was falling behind.
Eventually I won. My friendly opponent switched permanently to
my side and took to examining my retrieve.
I was happy to help.
With this, he began catching fish,
including his first pickerel. Soon he
was snagging the monsters rooted in their dwellings, and likewise depleting my
supply.
As dusk dawned, we were making
our last casts. My tackle box’s Rippleshad
population was suffering a mortality event at the hands of my brother when I
hooked one of the monsters—but this time, I could move it!
First 8-pounder of 2013! Photo by Phillip Morone |
A long tense fight followed, as a
powerful fish rolled and jumped at the surface.
Finally, with shaking hands, I landed a thumb in the mouth of the year’s
first eight-pound largemouth.
Needless to say, my fish- crazed
brother was a man of strong faith by
then. Later that night, I received a
call asking for my opinion on colors—he ordered six bags from Berkely.
A confidence lure becomes a
strength only in practice. One fish
caught will make the lure a more appealing tool on later trips, and every
additional fish serves as a refinement to your technique—a constructive
critic. Everyone’s will be different, so
this spring, fish your confidence
lure, and send pictures of your success!
Originally published in the Rural Virginian
No comments :
Post a Comment