“Please go downstairs Drake”, I thought to myself. After several attempts to make him stay downstairs where the fans were blowing, I gave up. I had taken all the screens off the upstairs bedroom windows to be repaired, and had a deadline to get those rooms painted. The day had been in the upper 80’s, and it was super hot up there. I opened the windows without the screens, but had to close them almost immediately due to mosquitos.

So there I was, up there painting after an 11 hour day at work, and it must have been over 100, humid, and no air moving. Sweat dripped off my face as I bent down to load a roller with paint, and I could barely stand it. And there was Drake. He insisted on being where I was, laying no more than 10 feet from me, panting at an incredible rate. He was so hot, but had to be where I was. Talk about loyalty. I felt terrible, but praised him and had to keep working.

Keep working. No fishing. The summer is waning, and this is some of the best fishing of the season. As I mentioned in one of the last posts “leaving the lake”, I decided to sell the lakefront home. That decision didn’t come with a full understanding of what needed to be done to get the place in order to sell - until I started, and saw the list at two pages and growing. This is certainly one of those situations where one thing gets accomplished and two more get put on the list. You’ve been there.

So, I sacrifice. Sacrifice time previously spent on fishing, relaxing, sleeping, friends, relationships, neighbors, Daughters, Sons…and Drake. One of the definitions of sacrifice is giving up something good for something better. I hope that’s the way it turns out. Right now I think I’m neglecting those I care about while I drive myself on these projects. All I can say is I’m sorry, but it’s got to be done.

I hope everyone understands. And if I could, I’d even hope Drake “understands”.

I had one of the best charters in a long time last night, a really nice father who wanted both of his really nice kids to catch some fish. You never know when kids are involved. I’ve had some who were a pleasure to have on board, and some who made you want to pull your hair out after 20 minutes. The two I had the honor of guiding last night were certainly the former. It was a little crowded on board, so after the typical flattened ear stare down, Drake stayed home and watched TV. He likes the chicks on Fox News, so he didn’t have it too bad.

We set out for largemouth using plastic worms and circle hooks (again), and when I explained the conservation virtues of the circle hook to them they took to it immediately, having used them before. The father wanted me to focus on his kids catching fish, and so that’s what I did.

I pushed the boat along the drop off with short bursts of the trolling motor, in 20 feet of water, and had them cast toward shore, perpendicluar to the boat. This way, the cast landed in 5 or so feet of water, and with an in line swivel only as weight, was perfect when reeled slow, as it slid the worm slowly right down the face of the drop off. I explained our strategy to the kids, and I’ll be darned if they didn’t understand it immediately.

They got bites right away, and it wasn’t long before the first largemouth came to the boat. It was about 12-14″, but it didn’t matter, as the rod and line was matched for just that kind of fish. We were using the 9′ steelhead rods with 6# line. Not only did that fish fully bend the rod and take some drag, but contrary to popular belief, kids can cast longer rods much farther, set hooks better, and control fish better than the conventional “short rod for kids” mentality would have you believe. It just plain isn’t true, and I’ve proven it over 4 years of guiding kids - they fish better with longer, more flexible rods.

Each of them caught 5 or 6 bass that evening, with a couple of giant rock bass too. One bass the younger son had caught was in the 17″ range. I told him to hold his arm straight down, laid the tip of the bass’s tail at his fingertips, and the jaw tip was dang near his armpit! He put his other finger on that spot, and after releasing the fish, I looked up to see his finger still marking the spot near his armpit. “You don’t have to leave it there the rest of the trip”, his dad said. “We’ll remember”. We all had a great laugh over that one.

We moved to a sunken island where we usually anchor in the middle and cast in a 360 degree pattern as the bass constantly move through us feeding, and there is no need for us to keep moving. As we set up, I saw a small splash on the edge of the island in about 15 feet of water. Then another, and yet another. Change of plans.

The father brought his flyrod, and was so patient making sure his kids caught fish, that I was happy when I offered to rig up his rod, move over to the fish, and “give dad a shot” at some flyrod action, and he agreed. He caught a bunch of bluegills on the fly, and had a ball. I switched the spinning rods over to fly and bobber, and the kids caught several bluegills, too.

Darkening skies and lightning flashes in the northwest told us to use our better judgement and pack up, as it was time anyway. Another day on the water with some pretty special people.

I dropped off the folks, headed back out the skinny canal, and noticed the sky had gotten alot darker, and the lightning was flashing brighter. No sound yet, but rather than idle home watching the spectacle, I knew Drake wasn’t a happy guy, as he hates lightning.

As I got out into the lake, I stood the boat on its end, planed off and ran for home. Every time I drop off clients and head for home I feel I have alot to be thankful for.