Finally getting my schedule in order, I planned three consecutive days of fishing. With the white bass engulfing in their annual spawn, I could spend the first day coaxing these fierce fighters from the water by the droves.
If all went well, the second day would be much the same, although we planned to boat several catfish from the noodles we planned to disperse throughout the river the previous night.
Hopefully inspired by the first two days, we would wrap up the outing with more white bass and channel catfish.
Devising this grand scheme, I was mindful that one cannot bank on a plan coming together. And that those unwilling or incapable of improvising risk returning home discouraged and empty-handed.
Going upstream bright and early the first morning, it quickly became evident we had missed the spawn. Boating only two white bass in water that consistently coughed up limits in previous springs, we headed back downstream to fish for black bass. That proved somewhat more productive, although few of the fish we coaxed into biting exceeded the 13-inch limit deeming them legal to take home.
A strong wind rolled in with darkness, thus we had no need to pitch our floating catfishing devices into the water lest they be blown against the shoreline.
Totally changing gears, I headed to another destination on the second morning with aspirations of boating largemouth bass. But again, the fish were less than willing to cooperate. After catching two largemouths in five hours, we called it a day and headed home.
Dragging the boat to yet another location the following morning, we backed into the water while the sun was still low in the horizon. To be honest, I was not overly optimistic about our chances for success. But every living creature has to eat to survive. And with a little persistence we would have a hook in the water when they decided to bite.
Coasting to a stop and dropping the trolling motor in the water within feet of a steep rocky point, my outlook improved upon boating a solid 2-pound fish on the first cast.
Pitching the lure in the same direction, I hooked yet another keeper. Within a few more attempts, I boated the third bass of the morning, all far exceeding the legal length.
Relocating to another steep rocky point, I enticed another keeper into hitting the suspended jerkbait. Wow. I had already boated four bass, the latter easily tipping the scales at 4 pounds, exceeding the success of the previous two days. It was hard to believe we were fishing on the same body of water.
Although biting slowed for a couple of hours, we found a slew of small bass willing to bite. As the evening neared, we were blessed with another hour when the bigger fish found our jerkbaits enticing.
Nearing the time to go home, we coaxed several more keepers, including a solid 5-pounder, and a nice walleye into the boat. After two dreadful days on the water, we experienced a successful run. Although I'm not one to buy into superstitions, I could say with all confidence that this was an occasion when one could truly say that the third time was a charm.
Sports on 04/19/2015