Bass Boy (Teen) Returns

At the age of 16, I cannot really consider myself a kid anymore. I would like to think of myself as an adult, but I also know that is not true. All I know is that I am a boy with an unprecedented amount of freedom and new responsibility. What has stayed the same is my love for the outdoors, for fishing and for life as a whole.

With that, let us get to the fishing. Many books detail the life of the young teen who has his special bass lake. In this lake dwell copious amounts of five pound plus bass. Well I have found that lake. Unfortunately, my friends have threatened to whip me to death with 16 ounce lead balls if I reveal where this lake is. So just rest easily knowing that this lake exists, there are fish in it and I have been catching those fish.

Imagine the lonely plastic crawfish, silently sinking into the water after a perfectly placed cast. A three pound largemouth-bass locates this weighted plastic and makes a mad dash towards the rapidly descending figure. With it’s mouth wide open, the bass smashes into the bait and violently jerks the braided line. On shore I can be heard screaming “FISH ON!”

There have been hot summer nights when this occurs ten to twelve times, and me and a couple of friends can walk home along the mile-long dirt trail with face splitting grins. And we have not been skunked yet, so I guess every hike back to the cars has been a happy one.

You can fish frogs, jerkbaits, swimbaits, crayfish imitations, or even mice imitations. The lake is a canvas for which one can apply any style of fishing they want. However, catching the bass is not the most important factor in the trip. Me and my friend Dylan have guided many people in catching their first bass, and had many friendly competitions. Introducing people into a lifestyle which has given me many wrist-wrenching moments is the greatest reward.

I have trudged back many times as the sun set and the animals of the night came out to feed. The memories of my latest bass replay over in my head. The cool breeze of evening dries my sweat. Everything around me is at once silent, powerful and beautiful. At these times I am reminded of a kid who loved to fish and wanted to spread his joy to others. I hope I can release some of my joy to you.

A double on large-mouth bass. Notice whose fish is bigger. 

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Hard Work = First Crappie

My first crappie caught at Calero Reservoir
:)

Yesterday was another episode of epic fishing in the Bay Area. When I woke up in the morning my dad was pushing me to go to Calero Reservoir, and fish in a float tube. After a half-hour drive, we arrived. Unfortunately, I realized that the lake had fifteen mile-per-hour gusts blowing across it. Water skiers blazed on top of the water's surface, leaving rough waves in their wake. In a float tube this can mean a tough session on the lake. However, my dad and I were undeterred. We strapped on our life jackets, and eased ourselves into the lake. On the end of my pole I had a 1/8 ounce jig head, paired with a Berkley GULP Magic Goby. I was bouncing my lure along the bottom of the lake. My dad was using a wacky rigged senko and was fishing it beneath the waters surface.

The beginning of the expedition was strenuous. I braved waves and strong gusts of wind, but it still took me an hour to get to the other side of the lake. So far I had not gotten any bites. However on the way back the wind drifted my float tube towards shore. This meant I could focus on fishing. Then I began to feel taps. It was similar to a bass's bites, but lighter. Setting the hook, I began to reel in my prize. When the fish got to the surface, I was surprised to see my first crappie! The day went on with more bites, but no more fish were landed. My dad and I talked to a few more fisherman, but found that others had come up with similar results to ours.

The conclusion, fishing in general had been slow, but people putting in their time had been catching. The sport is called fishing, not catching. If I had never gotten off the couch at home, or gotten out of bed early I would never have gotten my first crappie. Even at the lake, I kicked with all  my energy to propel myself into the wind. Good things usually don't come to you easily. If it was easy, somebody else would be doing it for less effort. You have to try.

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