Like Father Like Son...Like Son

   Last Spring I got to do two things I've wanted to do for sometime now: fish for trout and fish with my Pap. I'm not alone and can say my Dad was equally excited. But that was in the Spring and now the local trout are slim, so we had to find another place to take our adventures. On a beautiful Fall day, three generations of Hawrots hopped into a small fishing boat and headed out to hunt some bass.

   Normally, I could care less about the number of fish I catch. If I get a few, than that's an enjoyable evening. But tonight was different. It wasn't that I had to show anyone up but it was more of showing the person who taught me to fish and the person who taught him to fish that I have learned from them and have grown into a decent fisherman. Admittedly, I have recently fished this pond many times and believed I had an edge on them that night.

   My Dad started quickly, catching numerous bass off his mastered hula popper.

I thought no big deal, I'll catch up quick. That's when I caught my first bass. A small lil one but nonetheless a fish. Shortly after, my Pap caught his first fish.

And then my Pap caught his second fish. And then my Dad caught his third fish. And then somewhere in the mix my lures became irrelevant to the fish. I was no more than the boat captain at that point watching my more experienced shipmates catch fish on the same type of lure I was using. At one point, the boat became stuck on the top of an underwater tree. I thought about going down with the boat but persistence told me to move on and be patient, my fish will come. Well, they never came...for me. My Pap and Dad continued to catch them well into the end of the trip.

  
     Now the sun was set and darkness was showering the country pond; it was time to head home. Ya, I didn't catch really anything but it was an amazing night out with my family. Being confined to a boat, every time someone reels one in, you stop fishing and feel like you're catching it with them. It was actually fitting the way the night progressed. I wasn't keeping exact count but I'd say my Pap caught the biggest fish, my Dad caught the most fish, and I caught the least. And that's exactly how it should be. A progression of fisherman should always get better with more age and experience, especially through many generations.  I guess what I really learned was that I need to start having kids. Then we'll really see who's on the bottom of the totem pole.

My Friend, My Fish, and Ma' Boat

     My friend (Franco) recently bought a lifesize cutout of Taylor Swift. But luckily for his sake, I am a man of redemption.  I can publicly post this because he has indeed redeemed himself by purchasing a 12 foot fishing boat. It is indeed his boat but to everyone else it is known as "Ma' Boat." After a fresh paint and carpeting job, Ma' Boat was introduced to one of best strip ponds that Franco's coal company has ever created.
 
     The past few weeks have not been favorable for fishing. Finally, on my last day in Ohio before a trip to Milwaukee, the sun came out lovelier than ever; work was done at 5 and nothing else mattered besides getting out on the water.
 
     I started out with my go-to, a watermelon seeded worm with a small split-shot at the head. I was slightly successful but longed for larger fish. I went to my new hula-popper. Surely this would the cure for a month long cold. So I fished it. Popped it. Twitched it. Flicked it. Nothin'. I was thinking about going to my bull-pen when my luck changed. At about an hour before dark (6:30 p.m.), it was as if a switch went off. These bass were consistently hitting 10 yards from the shore and I was loving every moment of it.

     I could have fished that spot the rest of the night but there was something that needed to be done. For the past 3 trips to this pond, we have seen a very nice bass swimming in and out of an inlet leading into another beautiful pond. This day wouldn't be complete without a try to lure him in.

     We slowly approached the inlet and latched onto a tree 15 yards from the shore. I was confident the fish was in his spot and I knew I had one solid cast before he was gone. Last fishing trip, my cast came up short to the narrow inlet; this time I could not suffer that same fate. I flipped open my reel. Double checked the amount of slack. Took a deep breath and let her fly. I looped a high cast that landed 6 feet into the inlet; I thought this was it. If she's in there, I got her. Before I finished my train of throught, BAM! She hit. I fired back on the line and saw the water break out of the shallow inlet. I became tense as my line did the same. But suddenly, slack followed. I didn't know if I lost the fish. In all honesty, I think I did. But then I saw another riptide in the water. My hula went completely under again; this time, I knew she was on and I wasn't letting her go.

3.9 lbs 21 inches

     There are three things to know about fishing. You either catch small fish, large fish, or no fish. And you know what the best part about it is? It doesn't even matter which one it is. I'd gladly catch no fish with my family or friends than not try at all, but here's the kicker: when you do catch those better fish, there's not a person in the world than can tell me it's not a special feeling.