I was up at five o’clock Friday morning, October 23, making coffee, getting dressed, and loading my fishing gear into the Bronco. I was headed to Lake Cherokee with my little jon boat, hoping to find bass chasing bait and blowing up on the surface.
But there was something else I was hoping for: Dad’s first Lake Cherokee bass.
He’s owned a house on the lake for a few years now, but between working from the house and working on the place, he hadn’t caught a bass there yet. He loves fishing, but he’s not quite as obsessed with it as some of us.
I hadn’t taken him fishing as much as I could—or should. This morning, we were going to make time.
Before the Sun Came Up
It was still dark when I pulled into the driveway. Dad had stayed at the lake house the night before, so while I waited for him to come outside, I started getting a fly rod ready with floating line for some topwater fishing.
The plan was simple: Dad would ride with me to the boat ramp, drive the Bronco and trailer back to the house, and I’d bring the boat back by water.
Getting there came with a little complication.
When I put the fly rod in the Bronco, I didn’t get the line stowed properly. It was early, it was dark, and I was ready to go. Some of the line was hanging out of the door when we drove off. It snagged on something and snapped.
Eleven feet. Of fly line.
Not just the leader. The actual fly line.
I wasn’t really sure what to do with that at the time, but I had an extra reel with line on it. I swapped reels, and we kept going.
Then, while we were launching the boat and I was messing with something aboard, my sunglasses fell off into the water at the ramp.
It was still too dark to see much, but the water was shallow enough that I figured I could get them later. I didn’t feel like starting the morning with a soaking-wet arm. I also had a net, which would have been useful information for my brain to remember right about then.
The sun wasn’t even up yet, and I’d already shortened a fly line and sent my sunglasses swimming. We were off to a start.
A Bamboo Rod and a Quiet Lake
Once the boat was in the water, Dad took the vehicle and trailer back, and I spent the first few hours fishing by myself.
There was fog on the lake, ducks out on the water, and not nearly as much topwater action as I’d hoped for.
I started with a popper on a five/six-weight bamboo fly rod I’d found at a thrift shop in Oregon for about $25. It’s somebody’s handmade rod, and the original price tag was around $285. It had been marked down a couple of times before I came across it.
Crazy deal.
I’d also picked up a Redington reel for it at 40 percent off from Dodson Fishing Company. Getting to fish that little setup was something to look forward to, even if the fish weren’t especially interested.
As the sun started coming up, I moved away from topwater and tried baitfish-looking streamers. I switched colors a couple of times, looking for something they’d eat. There was a little activity, but throwing near it wasn’t getting me anywhere.
I didn’t have them figured out.
I did catch a little bluegill before Dad joined me. Meanwhile, he’d spotted fish popping off the point near his house. Naturally, I was fishing somewhere else and missing the action.
Dad Climbs Aboard
Somewhere around 10:30 or 11, Dad joined me in the boat, and we got to fishing together.
I had him throwing a four-inch Z-Man swimbait in Bad Shad on a round jig head. I was throwing a spinnerbait.
We both got a bite under a tree. And we both lost our fish before we really got to fight them.
That’s fishing. Two opportunities, two missed hooksets, and plenty of reason to keep casting.
We worked our way down a finger of the lake and then started heading back out. I had to be done by noon, so our time together on the water was running short.
We were just about ready to pull up the trolling motor, fire up the outboard, and head home when fish started blowing up near a dock.
Well, you can’t just leave without checking that out.
Meet Hank
We weren’t completely sure what was making the commotion, but we were hoping it was bass. We eased over, and I wanted Dad to have the first shot.
I told him to throw his swimbait into the action.
I think it was his second cast when he hooked up.
The fish was somewhere around two and a half to three pounds, and Dad gave it a good fight before bringing it into the boat. After a few years of owning a place on Lake Cherokee, he finally had his first bass from the lake.
We took some pictures, and then there was one more piece of business.
We like to name our bass and give them a kiss before sending them on their way. Just showing them a little love.
Dad named this one Hank.
Hank got his kiss, and back into the lake he went.
Of course, I couldn’t help myself. I threw a little Ned rig into the same area and caught a massive bluegill. We’re talking IHOP pancake size.
Dad got his first Lake Cherokee bass. I got a pancake with fins. We were having a pretty good morning.
The Last Cast Is Never Easy
After that, we really were about to leave.
Then the fish started blowing up again.
I’d just picked up Dad’s rod to put it away, so it was already in my hand. Dad said something to the effect of, “Go ahead and make that cast.”
He knew I wanted to.
I threw it out there, hoping for one more bite. Nothing. Then the fish started busting the surface again.
But this time, I really did have to go. Apparently, having somewhere to be still counts when the bass finally decide to cooperate.
Take Someone Along
The morning started with broken fly line, sunglasses in the water, and a few hours of trying to figure out what the fish wanted. It ended with Dad catching Hank and the two of us getting to share that moment.
We need to do this more.
And you probably have somebody in your life you could share an experience with, too.
Maybe you have the boat, the equipment, or the experience to help somebody enjoy something they wouldn’t get to do quite the same way on their own. Maybe they already love it but don’t have everything they need to get out there.
Take them along.
It doesn’t have to be fishing. It could be art, golf, video games, a pottery class, or going out to dinner. Whatever you enjoy, think about who you could invite to enjoy it with you.
Go fish with your dad. Play golf with your family. Take your brother fishing or your sister paddling.
Whatever it is, man, go soak up the good life.
Your fish is out there, but you’re never going to catch it unless you go.
