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Simple fishing is, quite simply, a pleasure
The BassCat is in hibernation, and the arsenal of rods, reels and lures is stowed at home in the basement, but that doesn’t mean the year’s fishing is finished.
A short trip south has provided me with a wonderful opportunity to return to my fishing roots, the days when my angling affliction began.
While it is great fun to fish with all the bells and whistles out on the boat on my favorite Ohio and Pennsylvania lakes, it is just as satisfying to venture out with a single casting rod, one bag of plastic worms and a few hooks and sinkers.
It’s just me, the water and the fish. There is something cathartic about minimalist fishing. It’s simple, unencumbered, no-pressure pleasure.
Many years ago I learned the basics of presenting a tempting bait to fish during long, hot summer afternoons tromping the banks of Yellow Creek in the Poland Municipal Forest. It was me, my fishing rod, a few hooks and split shot and a can of worms.
Often as not, a buddy joined me and we worked the quiet pools for chubs and suckers. As fishing goes, it doesn’t get much simpler than those days slogging along the creek’s soft bank. My shoes got dirty, but each chub and sucker was worth its weight in mud.
One morning last week, I looked down at my feet and immediately recalled those nice and easy earlier days.
My shoes were grimy as I stood along the bank of the Florida pond, but the half-dozen bass that bit that morning were worth their weight in muck.
Each of the bass was fooled by my plastic lizard – a good thing because that was the only kind of lure in my pocket.
Keep-it-simple fishing doesn’t mean an angler cannot learn. It also doesn’t mean that the angler can leave their fishing sense at home.
As I write this column, I’m just back from 90 minutes of basic bassing. The experience underscored four truths.
The sunny banks provided the first action, which improved as the sun climbed the sky.
The better bass set up on little points where even a little breeze stirred them into action.
Bass will readily eat a lure most of us consider too large.
And it’s always worth another try if you swing and miss on the hookset.
Back in the days when my pals and I dabbled for chubs and suckers, we also learned a thing or two.
The best depth to set our bobbers was so the worm floated just off the creek bottom.
The deeper pools and eddies harbored the bigger fish.
The best fishing was right after the creek returned to normal flow after a rainstorm.
And we always aspired to discover what new opportunity might exist in yet-to-be-explored waters.
That’s one of the great things about fishing. No matter how often we go or how far we travel, the mystique of the unknown pulls us around the next bend, over to the next pond and off to another state or country. It’s the fuel that propels “one more cast” as the day is waning.
Who knew a few hooks and sinkers and a can of worms could add up to so much fun for so many years?