Bass Fishing on a Summer Sunday

Been a crazy busy summer. Old boat shop/barn, full of some forty years of accumulations and detritus collections, had to be emptied by early fall. Weeks of “Barter and Swap Sales,” daily trips to the dump, agonizings over what few items could be stored in the “new” shed had occupied most of my time. Wake up at my usual 5 AM, look out the glass porch windows on flat calm broken by fish jumping, and the occasional fishing skiff going by. Turn away. Heat a cup of tea. Head to Manset. Days off were measured in funerals, occasional grocery runs to Ellsworth, and our now annual break with dear friends at one of Maine’s finer lakes, Schoodic.

My “Wilbur 14,” tied to the dock, would give me a forlorn look each morning. I could hear it’s gentle rock and waves lapping at night, reminding of fish being caught this summer on the “Magic Lake.” Finally, after evening excursions with “Bud” Leavitt’s “Twelve Month’s in Maine” and Edmund Ware Smith’s “Up River and Down,” casting wrist could no longer stand the sporadic twitch. Came a Sunday morning, fresh, embracing Northwest clearing wind, gorgeous daybreak, I rolled out. Head trying to remember the “to be done” list like bailing and swabbing the boat, filling the gas tank, getting a few rods together (I had at least been assembling a few the odd evenings I could stay awake...did manage to miss the first eye on two, however). List took awhile. Measuring cup(s) for oil were MIA, seat cushions were wet so some semblance of covers need be found. The 8 horse’ nose was bent from disuse and refused to start from it’s usual four pull roar-up. Should have read the signs and waited till Monday or another more appropriate day.

Finally, loaded rod in hand, 8hp snarling with occasional skip, I pulled away. Fired a black grub aft and headed down wind to my first “hot spot.” Do a loop I’ve been fishing since childhood. Tried to be in a favored position with the NW wind blowing as it was. Damn...not a minute and there’s a strike...fish on. Slip the 8hp into neutral and that’s where I should have listened to the niggle again. Fixed dock to my right, float to left and anchored boat ahead with wind pushing me towards the float. Hadn’t ever caught a fish in this shallow spot before and now I was headed for a snarl. Slipped into forward. Bear off to starboard and into the breeze again. Reel, steer, reel, steer, finally clear the moored boat, a spanking new tin Crestliner with mighty horsepower. Pull the “wanna be big fish” aboard, clear it of a mouthful of the black grub, scale it overboard, and power out of trouble.

Last few years and fishing multiple rods I’ve worked out a combination of one rod going deeper with a Rapala Smelt and some ornamentation, and second or third rod and light tackle with the black grub. Seems to work well and fun. I can get into some wicked crazy situations especially if more than one fish on at a time...usually Smallmouth Bass who always seem to have a healthy appetite. This was my plan for the morning, and like many made-up 3 AM plans, doesn’t always correspond to reality of the moment.

Fish cleared, stubborn streak in my soul says line her up again for the hot spot. NO, no, no! Yes, yes, yes! And this time with both rods...Niggle be damned! Who’s in charge here? And I circle back. Grub rod nests in holder while I let out deeper rig. Go to set deep rig in holder and realize bail had not set. Line is still streaming and wind’s coming up. I’m bearing down on the Crestliner. Grab rod, set bail and thinking both rods must now be working. Clear the Crestliner, slide over or by hot spot, and round out for deep water. No action. Pick up deep rod for a twitch, realize something’s amiss, and manage to reel up one jeezless snarl. Set that one in holder, grab grub rod and start reeling.

What the hell!?? Feels like another fish on!!! Offshore enough to attempt a sort out, and the more I reel the worse it gets. Another ball of monofilament with lures comes to surface and...it was time for the knife.

Twenty minutes and a good quarter mile drift, rods and lures had been returned to respective assignments and decision was made to continue downwind, make a long swing in to an easier bottom where granddaughter Hallie had landed a big fish some years ago and troll that shore. Northwest wind was holding fairly steady, depth would handle both lines and all would be right with a fishing Sunday again. But the niggle continued, “Not on your life, Son. Today Is Not Your Day.”

Finally worked up wind. Managed to get both lines trailing in semblance of order when there comes a screeching from a stand of tall pines on water’s edge. “So that’s where the eagle was nesting this summer.” He (or she) had moved from the western shore and the nest of many years. Solid bite. Fish on. Black Grub rod. Start to reel. Wind pushing bow toward shore. Hold rod in one hand. Try to swing bow out with other. Finally curl left leg over handle. Eagle’s screeching instructions as I manage to swing a moderate Bass into boat without hooking Black Grub to something other than bottom. Enough. This was definitely not a two rod morning. Retired Rapala rod. I’d troll this shore with Black Grub and just enjoy the morning.

Wasn’t long turning around and getting back to where the last Bass had struck. Needed to take advantage of wind on the bow. Downwind speed was too fast and too hard to control.

I’d marked a shoreside snag which had been in residence for some years and on this next loop another Bass slammed. I looped again and in same spot another slam.

“Well, I’ll just do another.” This was okay. Producing. Then another. With sun scaling up, enough fish for breakfast filets, I called it quits ahead of the game. Tipped my hat to the Eagle and headed for camp and a hearty breakfast.

• R E C I P E •

Blueberry Crumb Pudding

Blueberry season has to be one of my favorites. Though I dearly love a Rhubarb pie, Blueberries can be eaten by the spoonfulls from the basket, and there are recipes galore. This one piqued my curiosity.

1 c “zwieback” crumbs
3 T melted butter
¼ c sugar
2 c blueberries
¼ tsp salt
whipped cream
¼ teaspoon cinnamon

Combine crumbs, sugar and cinnamon: add butter and mix well. Place one cup blueberries in small greased casserole: cover with half the crumb mixture. Add remaining berries and top with remaining crumbs. Press down firmly with spoon. Bake at 350 deg. For 30 minutes. Cool. Cut in squares and top with whipped cream. Serves 4-6