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It was early April at Lake Fork and my son-in-law and I had been fishing all
morning. We had experienced some success with tube jigs, but the wind was making it difficult to work some areas.
Just before noon, we pulled up on the protected side of a point. A buried pipeline crossed
the lake at this location and the pipeline right-of-way provided access to the shoreline through the heavy timber in the area.
Upon reaching the shoreline we found that there were small openings to either side of the pipeline right-of-way. These openings
extended two or three boat lengths along the shore and had about 15 feet of open water between the shore side of the timber
patch and the water’s edge.
We pulled the nose of the boat
into the left opening and because of the wind I tied the boat up to a small tree standing in about 5 feet of water. We then
proceeded to fish our tube jigs in that area. I was using a relatively light (for Fork) rig, consisting of a medium action
6 ft. rod and a reel spooled with 15 lb. mono.
Shortly I had a taker
on my tube jig and boated a nice bass, probably 3 lb. or so. As I bent down to release the fish, I spotted a huge bass suspended
in an open area just in front of the boat. The fish was clearly visible in the very clear water and appeared to me to be 13
lb., maybe more. What’s more, it didn’t appear to be on the move, but simply suspended at that one spot.
Now the stupidity sets in!
Did I check the line or the knot on the rod I was using? -- of course not!
Did I get out the 7 ft. heavy action flipping stick loaded with 25 lb. Big Game out of the rod box? -- of course
not!
Old stupid here simply took the lighter rig I had just caught
the fish on and pitched the same tube into the water near the huge bass. I watched as the tube spiraled down and as that big
bass turned, flared her gills and inhaled the tube.
The fish’s position
was about 8 ft. from the line of heavy timber in one direction and in another direction there was maybe 15 ft. of open
water before encountering the heavy timber.
When the huge bass inhaled
the tube, I set the hook and the bass immediately sped off toward the line of timber about 15 ft. away. Knowing that if it
made the timber, it was all over, I clamped my thumb down on the spool to keep the drag from being pulled, hoping to be able
to turn the fish. Well, that 15 lb. mono never slowed the fish down a bit! When it broke the sound was like a 22 rifle being
fired!
It was only after the fish had broken off, that I realized
how stupid I had been not to pull out the flipping rod. That would have been my only chance to turn that big fish in the confined
space she was in. For the next 30 minutes or so, I couldn’t even fish as I was still mentally kicking myself around
the boat for the stupidity. Sure, the bass could have moved while I was getting the flipping rod ready, but if not, at least
I would have had a chance. The route I took was doomed from the start.
The opportunity for the bass of a lifetime
and I gave the fish even more advantage than it already had! Oh, well, the saying goes: That’s why they call it fishing
and not catching!
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