Today it is windy at Six Mile. But a few evenings ago it was different. The last hours on the lake were remarkable Friday. A big storm was sweeping in and you could smell and feel it on its way. The water was slick and black with streaks of pollen and oak flowers churning along the banks. The magic spring soup this lake mixes every spring was simmering again and fishing was good. While the sun set I lined up on a deep point by the house and my goodness.......one after the other male bass smacked my Rogue darting across the moss. No big ones but plenty lovesick fools inhaled the bait. The air was humid and fat with that storm rumbling behind me and those fish were crazy. I cut the trolling motor, drifted across the point and switched to a plastic bait for the big female I knew was there. The worm hit the water with a tiny dimple and I counted to ten.......then I raised the rod. A buzz zipped from the rod tip and a tiny streak of crackling sparks tumbled down the fluorocarbon line. The thin filament raised off the water and hovered strangely above the lake. It danced and sparked like magic until I lowered the rod. It was the second time Ive seen the air over the water so electric it sparked from the rod to the line and lifted it off the water. It is amazing. I raised the rod again and again as the same peculiar scenario repeated. By now the storm was dropping a haze of rain behind be and sending its warning message to foolish fishermen like me.......waiting for some well deserved bolt....... You wouldnt do that to me right now, I whispered above the rumble behind me. He didnt.
Posted on: Tue, 01 Apr 2014 01:51:22 +0000
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