When the air is crisp and cold, and a deep burning fire is calling you to a catnap on the sofa, you can give in or hit the water. If I left you behind, then you haven't experienced a good old winter fishing trip!
Fact, few are on the water when it's 55 degrees in the sun. Fact, fewer people mean more free holes to fish. Fact, frozen fingers are a given. Freaky fact, stuff happens!
Case in point, not long after we became boat owners, Richard and Dwight decided to take a short buddy trip to the 'Hoopee’. The weather was perfect, mid 50's with lots of sun and no wind.
Rainfall had been low and recent rains had the water up and the Bass were hungry. Dwight was recovering from a broken wrist and was along for the ride. Both of the guys were sitting on go and Richard was anxious for the chance to "blow out the motor".
They were locked and loaded within record time. Here is where personal knowledge gives way to a serious discrepancy and possible falsification of fact and borders on outright hilarity. I can't be certain, but Dwight's version somehow rings true since the only thing I can attest to is Richard standing, 6 hours later, in water filled boots and soaking wet clothes on our back porch.
The ‘Hoopee’ we know is narrow water with wide sections thrown in now and again. This means great fishing, but only if you are willing to take on some tight spaces and do a bit of limb crawling. Stretches that are easily navigated when the water is down are virtually impassible when it's high. The day, by all reports was really going well. Some good hard strikes and a couple of nice keepers had them in high spirits. The water was perfect, that "ice tea" color that we all love to see. It was also running pretty well. This meant quick reflexes and the right amount of gunnin' was necessary to keep out of the stumps and logs that were normally navigable.
Richard was having the time of his life...man against nature. Unfortunately, nature took the upper hand. Dwight was up front with his best buddy in the back. Tooling along he took stock of the bend up ahead. A log, partially submerged, extended halfway from one bank to the other. On the opposite side was a gnarled tree with a dead {but sturdy} branch reaching across. Offering unsolicited advice, Dwight gave Richard a quickie lesson in maneuvering. Confident that he had everything under control, Richard turned into the bend. As the log and branch swept by Dwight it looked as if they were in the clear. Not so fast...Dwight suddenly heard a curious sound, something like "AAAARK!!!" and looked back in time to see Richard suspended with his heels in the air and head down over the back of the boat. The branch had him across the chest and the back end was swinging into the log. The subsequent splash had Dwight doubled over and clutching his sides howling with laughter. Until, that is, it occurred to him that he was ten feet away from the motor with a broken wrist and that the boat was stuck in a full throttle forward path.
Had it not been for a lone stringy Cypress stuck in the middle of the river 'ole Dudley may have made it to the Altamaha. As the boat seemed to pick up speed, Dwight stuck his uninjured arm out and snagged the tree as it flew past. While this failed to stop the boat, it did contain it to a fast circular path. He yelled out for Richard and turned to find his childhood buddy flailing around yelling, with a look of stark terror on his face {having been at least somewhat affected by my distrust of water I can't see my toes in}. As Richard hollered at Dwight to turn off the motor, Dwight calmly asked, "How do I do that without letting go of this tree?" The response reported can not be printed here.
Once Richard put his legs down and calmed a bit he realized the water was only chest deep and he was in no danger of drowning, he waded the fifteen feet or so to the madly circling boat. As Dwight, with tears of laughter streaming down his face, watched; my masterful husband calmly and quietly reached over and killed the motor. Dwight pulled himself together; only to loose it again as Richard reached the bank. Apparently, now that immediate jeopardy had been averted, he realized he was wet! While Dwight still sat in the boat with one arm around a tree, his buddy was jumping around hollerin' that he was going to freeze to death! Dwight, between gut clenching howls reminded him that it was only 55 degrees and he was in no danger of hypothermia.
Ever the good sport, especially when the evidence is impossible to hide, Richard climbed right back in the saddle. After all, Dwight was too exhausted by the uncontrollable urge to burst into laughter every fourteen seconds to risk operating a boat! Between that bank and home my husband shed several layers of clothing. I suspect this may have been an effort to avert the obvious bafflement and questions he expected at home. No such luck. I tried; I honestly did try to be the supportive wife I should be. I probably would have held it together if Dwight had not already choked out half the story. I managed to get a general idea of mayhem and near drowning...most of the story was interrupted by his uncontrollable laughter.
I realized, as I watched my husband pour water out of his boot and grin, that I'd best learn to drive a durn boat. ~ Lesa
Questions or comments?
You can contact Lesa by email at
This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it
or at
When the air is crisp and cold, and a deep burning fire is calling you to a catnap on the sofa, you can give in or hit the water. If I left you behind, then you haven't experienced a good old winter fishing trip! 