Barrett Lake on the Kayak

I received "the call" on Thursday night. Brett had an extra spot that was bequethed unto him by Mick. I called for clearance from ground control and she said that it was all good as long as I was back by 2pm so we could go to her friend's wedding. With grand assurances of a timely return I rigged up and assembled a freshwater tackle box. This was no small task for I almost never fish freshwater and my supplies were meager. I had 1 shaddish colored Pop'R, a couple bags of senkos I'd picked up from God knows where, some chocolate blue veins 4" worms and some larger watermelon/blue/whatever worms. To make myself feel comfortable I stuck in a Frenzy shad style, a small spinnerbait, a couple of other small crankbaits in what seemed like reasonable colors, a few hooks, a few bullet weights and whatever plastics I thought might work. That was it! I had 6# on my Stradic and that turned out to be the best rod for the day. Ever the tackle horse I brought 3 other rods, two of which never saw the water.

I crashed into bed at 11:30pm and awoke without my alarm clock at 2:02 am. I watched the minutes tick by for a quarter of an hour and then crawled into some shorts and headed out the door. Brett's dog woke him up for me as I was moving my kayak onto his rack next to his Prowler. We hit the road with a pit stop for cash and a sack of predawn Breakfast Jacks and arrived at the gate by 4:30am.

I met our benefactor, Mick, who was the greatest guy - it was a pleasure to fish with him off and on through the day and a real treat to watch what they did early on.

After being led down to the lake at 5:30 the scene turned nearly comical as people raced, literally raced, down to the dock house and practically did flying leaps into their boats. Brett and I were caught up in it and unloaded the kayaks in what had to be record time. Geared up and ready to roll we pushed off the shore at about 6:20 am and began a nice long paddle all the way back to Becky's Cove. Brett had promised top water action and an abundance of fish. Reflecting on my past freshwater bass experiences, including one day at Barrett, thought he may have been overstating things a bit. Optimism reigned supreme however and a crankbait found it's way into the water about halfway to the cove. Dragging it in about 15' of water the rod tip began to bounce and jerk and then went slack. I kept paddling with an eye on the rod and once again it was hit. I reached for the rod, lifted it from the flushmount holder and set the hook into ....nothing. Barbless hooks were making themselves known!

I wound in the crank and caught up with Brett entering the cove. We snapped a few pictures of the mist on the water and then saw Mick and his buddy fly fishing near the shore...practically ON the shore. A splash and whoop and then followed up with an unmistakable "AAwwwww" which, by the down-tonal progression can mean only one thing - opportunity missed. I began throwing that little Pop'R up against the shoreline in water that only 1' deep and much to my surprise I was seeing boils and wakes by cruising and feeding bass. A topwater lure is a funny little creature, to be sure, and the use of it eluded me. I've watched my fair share of Roland, Hank and Mr. Dance to know some theory behind bass fishing with plastics, cranks and spinners but topwater doesn't seem to get much press - maybe because of the apparent heartbreak factors, it seems to me that topwater would make good television. Brett gave me a 7 second lesson on poppers - "Mick's fly popper doesn't make hardly any splash but mine does and I catch a few fish...let it sit until the rings disappear after you cast.". Ok. So I kept at it and was recommended another bank that was just behind me. I paddled the short distance and threw out the Pop'R again and this time, as the rings were drifting away from my still bait an explosion occured just behind and to the left of the sleepy balsa wood. It's been said that every action has an equal and opposite reaction and, by deductive reasoning I would state that the force with which I attempted to set the hook was tantamount to an F5 tornado. I make this assumption based on the speed and fury with which this tiny, double-hooked bullet was approaching my forehead. "Don't set the hook until you feel the weight...I'm sure you already know that" was the second half of my topwater lesson.