Bass Fishing

Do you remembe your first fish? You probably won't beieve this...

My First Fish

I have a friend at work we call "Johnny Sportsman," Johnny for short. I was whining that I haven't gone fishing since moving to Nevada because I really didn't know where to go. Well Johnny had an aluminum boat and offered to take me fishing with him to a reservoir where we could catch a bucket load of Crappie and maybe some Trout. Off we went -to the store. You have to have the right equipment if you expect to be able to catch fish, - beer, cigars, sandwiches, junk food, beer, gas for the boat, bait, and beer. Finally we were off. On the way to the reservoir, we passed through thousands of ground squirrels and no gun in the pickup. This should have been an omen.
Well we launched the boat and began to fish. We fished like no one else’s business. The only "bite" I had was a snagged stick. I was going to measure it to see if it was a "keeper" but Johnny said we had to throw it back as we didn't have a license for sticks.

At the end of the day, two very discouraged fishermen noticed a man working the valve on the dam of the reservoir. We reeled up our lines and motored over to have a chat with him. He was a friendly sort and asked us how we did. We explained we hadn't had a bite all day, except for a stick that really didn't count (although I was ready to argue the point). We told him how we tried everything in our arsenal and still nothing. He shook his head understandingly and said, "Yeah, I figured as much. We drained this here reservoir last fall and I doubt there is a fish in it."

On our next days off, Johnny comes to me and asks if I want to go fishing with him again. I asked, "Why? You know of another place with no fish?" he assured me that this place indeed had fish as his other friend was just there last weekend and got his limit. I finally agreed and as this was a much smaller reservoir we opted to fish from the bank. As the fish were supposed to be a bit smaller here, I invested in a micro light fishing rod which the salesman told me would make a six inch Brookie feel like a 6 pound Bass. Fishermen are so gullible, of course I bought it and he talked me into some of that new "power bait" too. I never used it before and was a bit skeptical but he assured me I'd catch some serious fish with it.

By the time Johnny came by to pick me up I had rigged my pole and was ready for bear - or fish. You know what I mean. Johnny even brought along a couple of rifles just in case we saw a herd of ground squirrels again. Another omen, there was nary a squirrel in sight all the way to the fishing hole. I was not one to be daunted by such omens and when we pulled up to the pond I jumped out, grabbed my rod, and was baitin' up before the engine was shut off on the truck.

I cast out and no sooner had the bait hit the water when "BAM," it was gone. My fishing rod bent over like I had a 6 pound Bass pulling on the other end. I was fighting that monster all the way in when at the last minute it took a turn and swam around a bush that was submerged in about two and a half feet of water only 15 feet from shore. I played him for a while trying to get that stupid fish off that bush. I'm not so sure he wasn't playing me. Disgusted, I threw down my rod, looked all around and there was no one in sight. I mean, we were 75 miles from the nearest anywhere so I did the honorable thing and stripped off all my clothes, and waded into that frigid water to untangle my fish from the bush.

I just accomplished the unraveling when I heard a strange noise and looked up. Low and behold, here comes a station wagon full of women and girls out to do a little fishing. I looked over at Johnny but he was no help as he was rolling on the ground laughing his butt off and pounding his fists into the dust. I believe he was actually concerned for my situation because I could swear he had tears in his eyes. I was hoping he would pound just a little harder and stir up enough dust as a blind so I could get out of that water before the next glacier went by.

It is the most curious thing about women, when they see a naked man waist deep in frigid water obviously in distress, they’d sit down on the bank to watch. I'm not sure but I think Johnny was smoothin’ out a spot for them and selling tickets. As you probably know, cold water does different things to men and women. When a female gets cold we assume they are just happy to see us. For a male, however, it’s a whole different deal. When standing in liquid ice some of our parts like to hide until you can build a fire under 'em.
After what seemed like an eternity or at least five minutes of this I had enough. Not only did I have an "inny and two raisins," but was sure I was suffering from hypothermia not to mention acute embarrassment.

Johnny was now wallowing in mud as his tears for me and my situation affected him so. You just can't find friends like that anymore. I finally figured a way out of my predicament. Only a hundred feet away was a few bushes close to the water’s edge. I slowly made my way there only stepping on the sharp rocks so as to keep my brain focused. Once there, I made a mad dash out of the water to the sage brush for cover, fish in hand. Funny thing, when I finally got it untangled it looked more like a six inch Brookie. To all you people not accustomed to the desert. If you are naked and trying to hide from a group of hostile women, sage brush has a little to be desired as your choice of cover.

Slowly and painfully I might add, I made my way back to the pickup, only leaving parts of my hide stuck to the brush. I didn't have to worry about the hangy down stuff as it was safely stowed somewhere behind my kidneys. It only took a few minutes of severe threats to get Johnny to throw me my clothes. He said he would have done it sooner but was busy selling more tickets. Oh yes, the crowd had grown in leaps and bounds. When I finally was dressed, I tried to convince him that one fish was all we really needed and maybe we should skidattle out of here. He seemed to think this over thoughtfully and quickly replied that he came to fish and that was what he was going to do.

Pouting, I followed him around the pickup with my now dead and dusty fish, to a standing ovation. I held up my trophy fish for more loud whistles. Finally the excitement died down and we got back to fishing. I'd throw my bait out and in no more time than it takes to recite the Gettysburg Address I would have another fish. Johnny wasn't doing so well and said I was cheating. He claimed that the vibrating action from my shivering was attracting all the fish away from his hook. I'll always treasure the memory of my first fish here in Nevada. And yes, I did catch my limit that day, not to mention one whopper of a cold.
Story By Jerry Adsitt

In a game of Cat and Mouse it'd best to be the Dog.