Fishing Stories

Them good ol' boys down south sure do take their bass fishing serious, never saw any "boomers" though.

I was staying in west point, MS and a friend offered to show me his secret fishing spot-not an offer to be turned down. The next morning we met at his house and loaded up the boat. As he was only an acquaintance, an eyebrow was raised when I spotted a chainsaw under some fishing tackle. Not the 12 pack I was expecting.

It's hard to find any kind of "wilderness" down south. Just about anywhere you go there are houses within screaming distance. This may have been the last stronghold. The river we were on was quite narrow and deep, and the mossy Cyprus really gave off a creepy vibe. You could maybe see 50-60 feet into the forest before it turned into a thicket, and there were abandoned shacks scattered every mile or so from who know how long ago.

The preferred method of fishing for the locals is trot line-huge ropes that span the entire width of the river with about 15-20 hooks. Each fisherman has a specific colored tape to identify which line is theirs. There were also a lot of bamboo rods (2-2.5m length)in the bank, another lazy way of fishing-all color coded as well. A few of them were bouncing and it was hard to resist pulling them up and seeing what was hooked.

I was fishing off the back of the boat and not having much luck when we came to a big tree in the water. My friend stripped down to his underwear and hopped straight in the water. You want to talk about your jaw hitting the floor. "This is a crazy bastard" I thought to myself. Especially after listening to all the stories of cotton mouth encounters and a run in with a snapping turtle, surely he was going under any second. To my surprise there was a huge grin and "start up the damn saw." Didn't take long to remove the barrier and we were off again.

We came around a bend and it was like fisherman heaven. The river widened to about 50m and there was a sandy beach where we could land. The catfish we were after have "runs", or specific paths that they follow under water when they are mating, and apparently we were right on time. Fishing was awesome-both catfish and bass, as well as a few other species which I can't remember. After about an hour or so we decided to call it quits and head back. The cooler was as full as it could get, with the biggest catfish being around 10lb.

We had been placing the bamboo rods on our way up for a return trip he was planning in a few days, and they were baited with crawfish. Apparently those catch the "big ones." We were moving pretty good as it was starting to get dark, but I noticed one of the rods in the distance bouncing furiously. And what do you know, it was one of ours this time! Of course I was tired but had a rush of adrenaline after seeing this. We pulled up and I sat there patiently waiting for him to pull up the line. "what the hell are you waiting for!" he shouted "you haven't done any of the work today."

As I was pulling up the line I started to make out a little bit of white in the murky water. It didn't look that big at all. I relaxed a little and turned to tell him the disappointing news when BAM a huge splash of water hit my face and a giant fish fighting for all it was worth. I damn near went overboard and he jumped to grab me which almost capsized the boat. Turns out a small catfish had taken the bait and in its helpless state, a monster flathead had eaten it. They have barbs on their heads, and the big one got trapped by the spines. It was the second largest catfish he had ever caught in the river and a good story for the family waiting at the house.