Caught the biggest bass of my life this morning. Newhall Park, fishing for bluegill using a bobber and a tiny 1-inch red worm. As soon as I got there, I saw 2 carp feeding but when I cast near them, they spooked and I didn’t see them again. I got bored so I figured I would try for bluegill. Casted right and got a tiny, 4 inch bluegill. Tossed him back. I saw a swirl on the left, maybe a feeding bluegill or the tail of a carp. I casted a little past the swirl.
My bobber dipped and I set the hook. Whoa, this one is bigger. It pulls my bobber right and the fight is on! I’m surprised when it starts pulling my drag. This is a good fish! Maybe a sluggish carp? I raise my rod tip to keep the pressure on and the fish turns in front of me. I still can’t tell what it is but it is big and fighting. It heads right towards a partially submerged branch. Yikes! My whole body leans left to guide it away.
I always setup my folding net first, just for situations like this: big fish on and no time to struggle to unfold the net while fighting a beast. I grab my net with my left hand, rod high in my right, and creep cautiously to the water. I only fish in spots where I can actually land the fish safely; I am not gonna fall in. I put the net down so I could reel and carefully guide it closer. This is my bluegill pole so the line is light, maybe 8 pounds. I cannot manhandle the fish without breaking the line. Finesse. Let the rod take pressure, don’t reel too fast, don’t put too much strain on the gossamer line.
I get it close and it’s big bass! I slide the net in the shallow water and try to get her head pointed towards my net. This is the most delicate part: guiding the fish into the net without scaring it so it doesn’t thrash, snap the line, and get away. For such a powerful fish, the ending is surprisingly mellow. She slides into the net and I lift her out of the water. She’s probably a post-spawn female, exhausted from waiting for her eggs to hatch and starving while doing it. (Female bass don’t eat for about a week after they spawn.)
I lip-lock the bass and start to lift it out of my net. My tiny hook is stuck in her upper lip and the tip is caught on my net. I’m still wearing my fishing backpack and I twist to grab my nail clipper on a retractable leash to snip the line. Now that the rod is separate from the fish, I lay the rod down on a bush and try to get the hook out. Hook is stuck in the net and the fish, so now I have to grab my pliers to get the hook loose. Done! Net goes down and I twist the hook out. Plop the hook in my bag so I don’t lose it or step on it later.
French chefs call it mise en place or ‘everything in its place.’ They prepare by arranging their station with the proper tools and ingredients: the knives sharpened and placed here, pots, pans, and lids there, tasting spoon and tweezers in chest pocket, side towels strategically positioned, ingredients washed and diced and dropped into prep bowls. When chef actually begins cooking, the process is smooth and easy because more than half the work was already done and everything else is ready and waiting. Every second counts.
When I fish, I try to have everything in its place. I want my tools easily accessible and always in the same location. I don’t have to tear open my bag to find something because I know where I put my important stuff. I get irritated when I don’t have a rag to wipe my hands because I should have four: a towel on top of my bag to wipe my hands, a strip of an old t-shirt for the ground so I can kneel without getting my pants dirty, microfiber on the outside of my backpack, and a spare inside. Today, I experience a cascading failure. I washed the microfiber backpack rag but failed to put it back. Oops. On a different trip, I used the spare and ended up leaving it in the garage so it wouldn’t stink up my car. A wise choice then that does not look as good now. I didn’t put one in my bag before I left and one fell out in the trunk, so now I am out of rags. I’ll worry about that after I let the bass go.
My phone is always in my left front pocket. I’m left-handed and that’s where I like it. I whip it out, snap some pics, and start a video. (Later, I find the pics didn’t snap and I only got one video.)
From my knee to the ground!
How big? I’ve weighed 3 pounders and caught a 5 pounder. The 5 pounder had a mouth bigger than my fist and this one is even bigger. I hold her next to my knee and she stretches from knee to the ground. That’s more than 24 inches! She looks a little lean, not as rounded as some, but I’d guess 7 pounds. My big bass has been out of the water for maybe a minute before I clamber down the bank and lower her back in. I gently slide her back and forth, letting the water flow through her gills. She twitches and I let her glide off into the depths.
