Fishing for the Truth
Greetings everyone-I'd like to start off by wishing everyone a happy 2009 Bass Season. Many of you might recognize me as the "tall guy" from the team most people refer to as the"tall guy and the good looking guy". I want to be up front with you all from square one.... I know I have had some great success in bass tournaments (and fishing in general) in the last couple of seasons, but I think it is only fair to give credit where it is due..I've had the benefit of some of the finest training a short-chubby kid from Colorado could have ever hoped for. Who would have thought that a guy like me would end up where I am today?...without further delay...I'd like to thank M.C. Bass for all of the fishing lessons.
M.C. Bass (yes, that's his real name) has spent countless hours, days, weeks, months and years instructing me in every aspect of the art of fishing; from how to properly use a bait casting reel...to deep jigging and proper boat handling. His tireless dedication to making me the best bass angler I can be has been at times
super-human and always awe-inspiring. You see...my love of fishing, coupled with my almost total lack of angling potential brought on by sheer lack of physical dexterity and mental prowess nearly doomed me to a life of trolling for brown trout with lead core line or ice fishing...or even hunting!... but M.C. Bass saved me from all of that.
From the time he first schooled me in the ways of catching bass on a cold April day in Belgrade nearly 30 years ago to the trials and tribulations of this more recent era; he's managed to impart on me much of the basic knowledge required to catch bass in Maine. Sure, there were rough years when I was learning how to tie knots, and that excruciating period in the early, mid and late 1990's I like to refer to as the "learning to cast decade"...but... M.C. Bass has stood by me throughout my angling education, his dedcation wavering only when I couldn't afford to fill his truck with gas, polish his bass boat or sharpen his hooks. There were times when lessons came hard to me...who am I kidding...they were all very difficult...and evn though there were countless occasions M.C. was forced to tutor me with harsh words and decisive punishment...Lord knows I derserved it... and I truely believe I am a better Maine Bass angler fot it!
I fondly remember one time several seasons ago; we were fishing on Salmon Lake when M.C. hooked onto a big one (as usual) and was fighting it from the front of the boat (I always have him run the trolling motor) suddenly, my old Evinrude dropped right off the transom! Without missing a beat, or dropping his fishing rod, M.C. dove into the water, a trail of bubbles the only sign the mighty man had even been there. Five minutes later, he would surface with my 150 in one hand and a 10 pound smallmouth in the other! (I know that sounds a little big for Salmon Lake, but M.C. recommended 150 Evinrude over the 25 Taihatsu I was considering...)
There was this other time when we were fishing over the deep hole in Long Pond together. M.C. was dead-sticking a Senko in 87 feet of water and catching one voracious Walleye (and the occasional Salmon) after another , but I couldn’t buy a bite. Always the charitable gentleman, M.C. offered to let me fight his fish! ZZZZZZEEEEEEEET!!! Went the drag as M.C. would set the hook with a mighty sweep, his steel eye and tight jaw said it all. “It’s another big one…”….”Here”…. I fought at least 15 fat fish, one after another in little over 19 minutes that day! M.C. was as much as an expert at landing these giant walleye as he was finding and hooking them. If it weren’t for him I’d have been tying flies in the back of the boat or something.
Now...before you think I’d gush this way about just anyone, I want you all to know that I’ve fished with everyone from the Ferris Brothers to that angry hobbit-lookin' guy from Florida…NONE of them can hold a candle to the this man. He's had me out there in the December cold, the August heat, the October Rain and everything in-between. Wind, waves, weather, cell phone...nothing in the surrounding world seems to phase his concentration when he's got his mind on catching fish.Once, he let me drive my boat down the Kennebec River from Gardiner to Bath...on the way back through Hell's Kitchen, the combination of outgoing tide, rain-swollen river and massive ice floes made the return run upriver a seemingly impossible task. I was about to turn-tail and leave that place ASAP when M.C. stood on the bow, made a mighty gesture and said something in an ancient tongue only the wind and the angry spirits of the Kennebec could hope to understand... I watched dumb-founded as the ice, tide and current parted like so much sand in a child's play area, leaving me a placid lane more than adequate in size to navigate through. This is one of the more than 700 times M.C. Bass has saved my life (and the last time he ever let me drive my boat...).
So basically, I'm intelligent enough to know that I've come a long way from the days I would wade a stream in Colorado poking around for stocked steelhead...but I'm man enough to recognize that I'm not the one responsible for my transformation from zero-to-hero. The honor of that recognition goes to my mentor, sensie, teacher, instructor and zen bass man...M.C. Bass.
Thanks again M.C.!
P.S. Thanks, man!!!