Hindsight In 2020 #7: TEN POUNDER!
My dad and I fish a lot. We are by no means ‘professionals’; but, we’ve caught some fish in the past. We’ve traveled different places in search of that tug drug. Fooling a fish into biting our lures and having them tug on the other end of the line fills us with so much excitement. Some of my earliest memories involve fishing with my dad. Every good fishing story I’ve ever experienced has him as one of the main characters.
My dad is a pretty awesome angler. He’s been in tournaments, won at least one to my knowledge, and has forgotten more about fishing than I’ll ever know. If he’s flipping a jig, that better be what you’re doing. If he’s slow-rolling a spinnerbait, you better have one tied on. If he’s throwing a white-floating worm, just sit down in the back of the boat because he’s going to catch them all. That’s not a joke. Not only does he know a great deal about fishing, tactics and boats; but, he also knows where to go to find the fish. He’ll sometimes ask me where I want to fish. When he does, I look him right in the face and say, “I’m going where you’re going”.
We have a great time fishing together. Talking is optional, snacking is guaranteed and hopes are always high for big fish. We celebrate when we catch one, mourn over the ones we miss, and talk about the fishing days of old. All the fish seem to get a little bigger over time and the number of fish caught seem to grow. And yes, we also talk about the ones that got away. My dad can also remember where every fish he’s ever hooked was in regards to their location on the lake. Well, almost every fish.
One of our favorite destinations to fish is Santee Cooper. It’s one of those places where there could be a monster bass at the base of any cypress tree. Literally, any cast you make could end up with you setting the hook in a state record. These lakes are one of the most popular fishing sites for big bass around the nation. There have been fishing shows filmed and Bassmaster records broken at these lakes. Fishermen come from all around in hopes of catching the next Santee slaunch. My dad and I are two of those fishermen. To make fishing more easily accessible, my parents actually purchased a camper at one of the campgrounds that surrounds Santee Cooper. From the camper to the boat ramp was literally 200 yards away. Going fishing was easy.
When my parents owned that camper, my Saturday’s would look something like this…
1. Wake up.
2. Load the truck.
3. Load up the baby.
4. Ride to Santee.
5. Give the baby to my mother.
6. FISH.
7. Lunch.
8. FISH.
9. Load the baby back up.
10. Head home.
Saturdays were great! I would fish all day with my dad. No joke. Nearly sun up to sun down was spent on the boat, wetting a line, knowing that every bite could be the one. We've had some crazy stories while fishing at Santee. One cold morning, while throwing a spinnerbait, my dad hooked a twenty pound carp! At first, we thought it was a largemouth bass, but were blown away when we saw that a carp had actually bit his spinner bait!
A few casts later, I caught the biggest crappie of my life on a spinnerbait!
Also, please notice the awesome 'throwback' Bass Pro Shops hats. I know. They look great.
You really never know what you’re going to catch at Santee. One of our best days ever consisted of a seven and a half pound, a six and a half pound and several other largemouth bass weighing in the four to three pound range. I caught one of those three pounders that day in a very unconventional way. I had made one of my expert casts over a limb of a cypress tree (sarcasm implied) and was attempting to bring it over the limb without causing a total clustercuss. As the bait was exiting the water on the way to the tree limb, a flipping three pounder destroyed it! It was just one of those days when the fish were munching.
During February of 2018, I was lucky enough to experience one of the coolest, most awesome, events that I probably ever will as an outdoorsman. It was so cool in fact, that I was left speechless. I’m not a man of few words. I can be quite wordy sometimes, just ask my wife. But this particular event left me stunned.
I must apologize upfront. In preparation for this post, I called my dad to talk about this catch and both of us had the same thing happen. Neither one of us could remember anything about the morning before the catch. We both remember catching some fish, but not so many or with any size worth making a memory of. To us, our day began and ended with the bite. The bite from the ten pounder.
We were in a place known as Red Bird Creek, some call it Cardinal Creek. On all lakes and rivers, creeks have several names and some people call them something else entirely. For example: my dad and I now call that place Ten Pound Hole. Soon you’ll know why. The creek had pretty good water depth. At the top of the creek I actually caught a small bass. That was a good sign. There was a boat with two guys in the back of the creek. After fishing on the left side for a few minutes, we switched over to the right, not wanting to rush or push the other guys. As we moved to the other side, a boat came in behind us with a couple of adults and a small child. We could hear them talking as they fished on the other side. The guys in the back left out the creek, most likely going in to make a weigh-in time for a tournament. The creek was popping more than a club on Saturday night.
I was fishing with a Strike King Rage Blade. It’s a bladed jig that vibrates and swims as you reel. In the water, the bait looks very similar to a bluegill or bream. Bass love to eat small baitfish.
My dad was running the trolling motor while I was fishing at the back. We were almost to the mouth of the creek. After just a few casts on the right side, I casted my lure way back in the cyprus trees and began to slow-roll it out. At the tree line, just before the creek, my bait stopped. I felt no ‘thump’. It felt more like the bait had hooked a submerged tree stump under water. In hopes of releasing the bait from the snag, I pulled the rod and loaded up the line, putting pressure on the rod. It was at this point I realized: I am not hung on a tree stump.
I was hooked on a fish’s face!
The fish realized that she was hooked about the same time that I did. The fight was on! She made two strong, fast runs. The first was out to the middle of the creek. My dad told me later that that’s what big fish do: try to go deep. I didn’t want to horse her too hard, so I just held on. I let her go out to the middle, then come back. She made her final run to the right, toward the front of the boat. Then it happened. I saw her in the water. She was big. Bigger than any bass I had ever hooked. After her run to the front of the boat, she was heading back in my direction. Keeping the line tight, I brought her to the side of the boat where my dad was waiting with the net. Without much of a fuss, she went in. And it was done. Many high fives and hugs ensued.
Just as quick as she bit, she was now in the net. Whew. My dad and I looked at her. I remember my dad saying that she must weigh eight pounds! We quickly grabbed the scale, powered it up and put her on it. The scale read 10.1 lbs. I couldn’t believe it. A ten pounder! My heart was racing. My head was light. This was really happening!
Then we did what every good angler does when they catch a big one: we took pictures! I don’t know about her, but I was one happy dude. See them for yourself!
We discussed taking her back for my mom and son to see; however, the live well was malfunctioning on my dad’s boat at the time and did not leave that option on the table. Neither of us for a moment entertained the fact of letting her die and taking her back. There was only one option left on the table: put her back. We began reviving her in the water. Pulling and pushing her slowly back and forth in the water to help her get her strength back. It wasn’t looking good for a bit. She was so tired that we thought she may not make it. However, after a few minutes she let us know she was ready. I held her tail, she pushed off and my dad and I watched her swim away. Just like that, she was gone.
After she swam off, we sat there for a few minutes. Our adrenaline high fading, just taking in the moment. I remember my dad asking me if I was excited. I wasn’t saying much. I was just breathing, thinking about that fish. Of course I was excited. I was stoked, pumped, elated, all of those things. I was just speechless. I had just caught a ten pound bass. Very rarely and I left that way. But for those few moments, I couldn’t say a thing.
That boat that came in the creek behind us eventually came around us while we were anchored there were we landed the fish. They asked if we minded them going around. We didn't mind at all. Dad even told them I had just caught a ten pounder. The little boy asked to see it. You should have seen the look on their face when we told them we put her back.
We didn’t make another cast that trip. It was almost time for me and the little boy to head home, so we just headed back to the camper. What a great way to close the day. Mom and Charlie listened to our story, hanging on every word while oohing and ahhing at the pictures from my dad’s phone. On the way back to our hometown, I called my wife and told her the story. She was so happy for me. I even told her the story again later that night while we were getting ready for bed. She listened like she’d never heard it before! I think she could tell how happy I was.
My wife knew that this fish catch was unlike any other. Her and my dad teamed together, unbeknownst to me, and created a special memento to capture that catch forever. My dad got in touch with Lake Fork Taxidermy in Texas. He sent them pictures of my fish, corresponded back and forth, and had the most amazing fish mount created.
My parents showed up a few months after the catch, again unbeknownst to me, while my wife, son and myself were playing frisbee in the yard. I looked down the road and thought, man, that looks like mom’s car. And that was my mom’s car! When I asked what they were doing at my house, my dad opened the hatch and there set a box. A big box. Inside that box was my fish mount. It was beautiful.
If you can’t tell by my son’s face, he thought the mount was pretty awesome as well.
That beautiful fish now sits above the TV in our living room. I get to see her every-single-day.
Not many wives would go to such lengths to create another animal for their husband to put on the wall. But my wife did. Thank you, Lisa. Each and every day I get to see that fish, think about that moment and experience that joy again. You are the best. Your big fish story will most likely be told someday in a post! Thanks for putting up with my taxidermy in the house.
To my dad, thank you. You put a lot of time and energy into making sure that mount was just right. I appreciate everything you did to bring that fish home. There is no one that I would have rather experienced that moment with than you, Pop. Thank you for taking me fishing. Not just that day, but every day that you’ve taken me fishing. Thank you for tieing every knot, attaching every lure and fixing every backlash in my reel as a kid. I know there were times where you would have rather been on your own and enjoying the water alone, but you took me with you. Thank you so much. I hope to instill the love of fishing in my kids the way you have in me. I look forward to our future father-son fishing trips and netting the next monster bass that takes you on a ride!
Happy Fryeday!
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