Soggy Finish

Emerging from my front door, its 4:00am and the rain had the familiarity of standing in the shower earlier. I was ready from head to toe. My Colombian rain suit works like the feathers on a duck's back, the boat was hooked up and my gear was loaded. Garrisons lake, my destination, is just a large flooded flat area. It seldom exceeds 4 feet deep and in my book is a sorry excuse for a lake if there ever was one.

As bass clubs do, we all helped each other get our boats in the water. The ramp was a soggy mess as was everything else... boat carpet, soft plastics, any early morning breakfasts left uneaten until arrival at the lake. We all launched our boats and started our live wells with the implication that the fish would be placed there just as soon as wetting lines commenced. Tackle being tied, rods being taken out of their respective compartments, money being handed to the tournament director in five dollar increments. One angler making the point of the net worth of all the boats we had in the water. Can't remember the judgment he came up with but it was somewhere in the hundred thousand range.

As the first hint of the sun rose, boats began to take their positions. By first safe light the first boat took of with the blast of the trolling motor. Unlike deeper more expansive lakes, at take off all you heard was the hum of electric motors. Comical almost, the big over sized outboards would not even be used. I was second to last to take off but I hung back. I noticed a lay down that stretched from the shore out into the water about 6 feet. The water was at full pool from the rain and the lay down was still in about 9 inches of water. No slope to the bank. No fish on the lay down. I continued down the left side of the lake all the while covering water with a Penrod color/style spinnerbait. In the summer, about 50% of the lake is covered in spatterdock. It was just starting to poke through the bottom. I started fan casting across the future area of spatterdock land just after a point, in the mouth of a cove. Pulling the spinner through the sprouts about an inch off the bottom at a slow pace; I hooked my first fish. It was looking good for me. 20 minutes into it and I boated my first of the day at 1-12. I kept fan casting the area looking for another but it never came.

Looking outward onto the lake, I spotted a 4 pounder jump in a patch of spatterdock smack in the middle of the lake. I worked my way over, pretending I didn't see it. If you motor over with haste, others will catch on. I started by throwing a jig in the middle where I saw him (or her) and slowly bouncing it on the bottom. It didn't bite so I showed the spinnerbait I hooked up on the last one with. Still nothing. I moved over to a big lay down that sat in about a foot of water. Using the jig to probe different areas of it; trying to find the spot within the spot. Just at the perfect time the damn wind decides to pick up and starts blowing me all over the place. I get off one more flip and I get bit. To be honest, I wasn't ready. Instead I was pulling line off my reel from a little backlash causing me to miss the strike.

By now, the sun was up behind the thick cloud cover. I decided to move into a patch spatterdock furthest back in the lake. I had switched my spinnerbait out with a buzzbait and was slowly working it back to the boat, causing it to sink the blades just under the surface. Just as it tapped one of the pads a 1-11 took it. Fish number 2 in the live well and feeling pretty good about the next few hours.

I swung back around to the law down I got bit on. The wind slowed and I could maintain a good position on the structure. No takers there so I moved around the corner into a long skinny cove, almost like a creek. Very shallow in the back so I could not fish it all. I concentrated my efforts on the edges but not wasting too much time, as I knew it had been pounded by at least 2 other anglers earlier that morning. One thing stuck out though. A beaver lodge stood close to the right bank where I have ALWAYS had great results in hooking up. Beaver lodges and dams are the favorite place for flipping a jig for me. 3 quarters of the time it's big fish too. I started at the deepest side where it appeared that the resident had dug into the sediment to create a front door. Just as my jig hit the wood under the water I felt the "ding ding ding" from the other end of the line as the cue to set the hook. Once I set the hook I felt the most monstrous pull on my line I have ever felt while bass fishing. Mud churned as the surface thrashed about with disturbance. I was thinking to myself "I just locked up the lunker pot". I gave my G Loomis Mossyback a hard two handed pull and towed it out of the sticks. But instead of seeing a green scaled creature, I saw a brown furry animal, falling into phylum classification of my own (mammal). I get back to the boat and it seemed I had hooked into the tail of the resident of the 'house' I was fishing. As one could imagine, he was not happy with my antics, participating of a series of attempts to swim away followed by surfacing near the boat and releasing a growl that would prove good competition for your run of the mill Raccoon. Finally with it's head below water and tail up, I could see the hook had just barely pierced the tough skin on it's signature tail. I reached over with my free arm and grabbed one of my rods and used the butt of it to knock out the hook, freeing him to return to it's residence.

I continued on with the same pattern as I did earlier that day but it did not produce any more fish. I went to the scales with my two catches of the day (the beaver did not count) weighing in at 3.38 lbs. enough to lock me onto 5th place. All in all, the day amounted to a dose of soggy consistency.