Last week in Kentucky was pretty fun, especially after a sudden obsession for bass fishing. I tried to explain to Ashley why it was so compelling and she said, “I understand fishing, but why all of a sudden? You’re nuts.”
I told her it happened every summer, but she didn’t believe me. Because she certainly knows it has not happened for the last 11 summers. But before that, back when I was in high school, bam. We were in the fish.
Addair gets spoiled by his grandparents, that’s some of it. I’ve tried to go fly fishing by myself at least once every couple weeks, but that’s hard. It’s easier when Addair has a crowd of babysitters. Also, my parents live on lake Pee Wee. That’s the Madisonville, KY city lake. I caught three bass as long as my arm in the back yard–I mean about six of them, or probably seven, big ones.
I painted in Kentucky some. The State Farm basement door for dad, the Raymond James crown molding for my brother, a carport and front door for Grandma too. So it wasn’t all play. A little work, but a lot of bass fishing.
My buddy Justin and I split out on Thursday. We took the old Ranger on Lake Beshear in Dawson Springs. It was pretty hard fishing in the afternoon. Saturday my dad and I went to our hunting property in the reclaimed mining area around Earlington. The strip pits and silt ponds were full of ticks, not many fish. We spent the morning with tractor problems, but it got us out of bush-hogging. That meant extra time for bass fishing.
My mom would see me watching TV with Addair and us eating goldfish. She’d take him and say, why don’t you go fishing. She’d look out the dining room window, saying they were surfacing a lot in the afternoons. I’d rig up a worm and go.
My brother’s kayak is in the basement and I took it out a few times. Bass were killing this little shad with a jig head, but nothing big. And too many bluegills. Then I was throwing a Carolina rig and being greedy. Because I was in a kayak. I had one monster hit it so hard I was literally leaning away during the fight to keep from tipping over. It jumped and I saw it, at least six pounds, probably eleven, and I got it to the kayak which is exhilarating when you are sitting on the surface of the water beside your fish. He fought under the boat and I couldn’t grab the line before he pulled the rod around forward, jerking the line on the tip of the kayak. He got off that way.
I thought about Ashley’s question for awhile, why the sudden bass fisherman in me. There was time to think you know, cast and think. Reel in and think. It occurred to me it was sort like when a dog eats grass. It doesn’t make any sense. But the dog is craving something, he needs a nutrient. Or he needs to root around and be a dog. I live on the corner of Armstrong and W. Glenwood and in a neighborhood. It’s been a little while since I walked home to the house in the dark, sat my rod against the garage, left it hooked and ready, and went inside to wash the fish slime off my hands and the mud off my feet. You make a lot of noise and you wait for someone to ask the question,
“Did you catch any?”