Reminiscence of a fool... Part 8

My son Thomas hasn't inherited the desire to fish, although when he was younger I did try...


You can’t win them all

October 8, 2012


‘I’m sure that was a knock on the rod’

We were packing up, and as usual I had left one rod out leaning against a chair that had earlier supported me for over 5 hours without a touch. Thomas who wasn’t keen on joining me and was even more keen to leave barely gave my comment a second thought but again from the corner of my eye I was sure I saw it move.

‘I’m convinced I saw it knock again’

This time Thomas looked up, probably due to the tone in my voice as I decided to pick up my rod and check to see what was happening. Within seconds I had a slight tap on the rod that every bass angler knows, its difficult to explain to the un-initiated but every fish has its own signature and this was definitely a bass. Holding the rod I knew what should happen next and sure enough the tap became a lunge, which was followed by a series of lunges, that was followed by the lightly held rod.

Now it is not unusual for me to only ‘hit’ about 1 in 5 perfect bass bites and considering that this was my first take of the year it was with trepidation that I lifted into the bite.. fish on! I could hardly believe it.

‘Have you got one Dad?’

Thomas was now by my side as the bass took a vicious run immediately to my right, but the clutch felt too tight against the strain so I quickly followed it along the shore until I was able to stop it and make the slight adjustment required. Listening to the clutch sing as it headed out to sea was like music to my ears, but at the same time despite knowing that there were no snags for me to worry about, I was worried. Turning it, it vented it’s frustration by turning the sea into a mini boiling cauldron before again heading off.

This was one of the best fights I've had from the sea but eventually I was able to bring it in, where I quickly picked it up from under the gills and carried it to my gear. I was shaking like a leaf as I quickly weighed it before taking its portrait. Despite jiggling the scales I couldn’t quite make it read 7lb so we settled on 6lb 15oz. Carefully we carried it back and watched it swim off strongly.

It was now me that was acting like a kid as I caught myself jabbering away to myself and Thomas. But he was cool, allowing me to calm down before giving me a man-hug and then shaking my hand! Talk about role reversal.

On the way back I enquired if he would like to join me again but was politely told,

‘Please don’t take any offence, I’ve had a great time today but no thank you.’

Oh well you can’t win them all.





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