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JUST CURIOUS, WHAT HAVE THE BASS MADE YOU DO ? - Page 2

post #16 of 22
Thread Starter 

 

  Nun chucks

 

  It was about two year's ago, right around Thanksgiving. I was lucky enough to fish a fall run of Bass in the low to high 20 lb. class. It was one of those days

that just seemed to be perfect, there is nothing like seeing a school of Bass feeding on the surface. It never gets old. My plug of choice that day was a YO-ZURI Surface Cruiser. You know the one, it comes equipped with 5/0 VMC hooks.

  It was a great bite. I'm really don't recall if it was the second or third fish I caught that day. But this particular fish knew I was not paying attention,and it was if that fish new Martial arts. I usually keep a taught line when I'm reaching down to grab my fish. But this day I did not. The Bass was hooked with the bottom hook,and as I reached to grab her, in less than a split second that fish unleashed a move that would of made Bruse Lee proud.That plug whipped around hitting me dead in the palm of my hand by my thumb with that  5/0 belly hook.

 Now I have a 20 pound-er  trashing around with my hand attached to her. It took a few seconds to focus, that seemed like minutes. But when I did, I grabbed that plug with the hooked hand and was able to unhook the fish. After making a futile attempt to cut the hook,I was able to crush the barb and remove the hook.

 So know I'm standing there bleeding like a stuck pig watching the blitz still going on. So I moved into the surf to wash my hand out. All the time focused on the fish crashing the surface. I try-ed applying pressure to stop the bleeding.With Bass exploding on the surface right in front of me, I could not take it any more.

 So I let that plug fly once again, and it didn't take long before I was back in the game with another fish on. Once again I was one with the fish and nothing else mattered.

 I guess the moral to this story is stay focused, and above all keep............................

 

 Tight Lines

  Lou


Edited by Lou T - 2/17/12 at 9:32am
post #17 of 22
The whistling of a November NE storm wakened me at about 1am. I left a warm bed and the company of a beautiful young lady 18 years younger than I. I got to the "jungle" and with the surf crashing and the wind driven rain finding ways into my parka, I thought " What the f--- am I doing here?" There wasn't another soul in sight, near freezing temp, "What the F--- am I doing here?" I flipped an easy first cast and a mid twenties fish swallowed my needle, followed by many casts and many fish up to over 40#s. A night I could have easily turned down. Oh, and the young lady,we have been married 22 years.
post #18 of 22
Quote:
Originally Posted by Cascade View Post

The whistling of a November NE storm wakened me at about 1am. I left a warm bed and the company of a beautiful young lady 18 years younger than I. I got to the "jungle" and with the surf crashing and the wind driven rain finding ways into my parka, I thought " What the f--- am I doing here?" There wasn't another soul in sight, near freezing temp, "What the F--- am I doing here?" I flipped an easy first cast and a mid twenties fish swallowed my needle, followed by many casts and many fish up to over 40#s. A night I could have easily turned down. Oh, and the young lady,we have been married 22 years.

Wake Up Cascade! Wake Up! You've been asleep for days with a smile on your face . .. what have you been dreaming about???biggrin.gif
post #19 of 22
Thread Starter 

  Quick Sand

 

   This happened when, I first started out surf fishing. I arrived one night at Sandy Hook the tide was dropping out after a extremely high one. I think we where in the new moon phase. I had to cross a trough that developed high up on the beach. It was approximately twenty to thirty yards from wash. The water was over four feet deep as I crossed it to get to the ocean.

  As I walked down the beach I come to the point where that trough was emptying out into the ocean. As I  looked in the direction I was heading that trough continued on. The water I was about to cross was not very deep, but there was a tremendous amount  of water moving there. If my memory serves me well there was a rip that formed there also. I seem to remember making a couple cast, before I took my next couple steps that i will never forget. My first step sunk a little ,the second step I sunk in up over my knee. Before I could move, I was in up to my ass. The more I struggled , the harder it was to move at all.

  I remember going into a state of panic, and wondering if I was ever going to get out of there before that tide rose.Was this to be my final resting place. I remember bending forward, laying down in the sand and water. Placing my hands above my head and crawling out like some kind of turtle or salamander .

 You know once I got back up on my feet. I got my act together, and kept heading in the same direction.I was on my way  to the rip. I don't remember even getting a bumb that night.But I keep going back because of the other times I did in the past.

  I can't think of a moral to this story.Except the Bass made me do it.

  May be there is some kind of safty lesson to be learned.

  Tight Lines

  Lou

 

 

 

post #20 of 22
Striped Bass have made me...

1. ...appreciate all the times I spent fishing, yet never caught one. For they've allowed my father and I to spend time together and for me to see the amazing human being he is.

2. ... humble for the deep reverence I have developed for the species in general, and specifically, our fisheries resources.

3. ...grateful for guiding my decision to pursue a career in fisheries management.

4. ...wonder what direction my life might have taken had one not graciously given up it's life to the 12 year old boy casting a creek chub popper from a jetty in Spring Lake, New Jersey.

5 ...long for the day when I will once again retrieve a wooden swimmer through the Jersey surf at daybreak.
post #21 of 22
Striped bass are a drug....an expensive habit impossible to kick. Unfortunately they are a gateway drug....to a much more expensive narcotic......Tuna..........
post #22 of 22

In the wise words of Crazy Alberto Knie, "You can sleep when your dead." Hence, I rarely sleep in season. I put myself through whatever it takes to get on fish. I do enjoy a good bit of combat fishing. Private property at the wee hours of the morning. Gotta walk in the water, keeps you on state property and out of private property. icon14.gif

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