Last Cast

[WestCentralFisher]

I looked at my watch and I had about 20 seconds left until the time I told my fiancee I would start heading home, and for all intents and purposes I was still trying to get the skunk off. Just enough time for one more good cast. 

I hadn't actually been skunked, but if you're a fisherman, you know what I mean. This stretch of river is about as reliable for catching smallmouth as any near home. But today the water was really slow and a bit too clear. The fish could see you coming from a mile away. It didn't help that the reel on my ultralight had broken right at the start of the day, so I had to use a medium action that is generally reserved for bass fishing on the big lakes. I couldn't cast the little lures I prefer to use anywhere near far enough. 

But I still caught some fish. A few 4-6 inch smallmouth hit the rebel craw, as well as a 12 inch spotted bass. But I hadn't caught a single smallmouth big enough that if it were legal and not blatantly unethical, you couldn't have theoretically used to catch a much bigger smallmouth bass. This was not a day-ruiner by any means. The river is very pretty and it's a Friday afternoon. But it's not entirely acceptable either, and still essentially amounts to a skunk, even if it doesn't meet the technical definition. 

Back to the last cast. By now I've switched to and stuck with a ned rig, on account of the fact that it was the only thing that I'd even seen a decent sized bass follow. But we all know lasts casts are a bad business. For one thing, if you ever get to the point where counting down casts feels necessary, things probably haven't gone to plan. And you're probably distracted, halfway on the road mentally, and thinking about whatever is next. 

But this particular last cast lands next to a log in good current. The wind had kicked up, so I wasn't too visible. And sure enough, I feel the tap, tap, thunk of a smallmouth bass taking a ned-rigged plastic worm. I actually complete the hookset this time, far from a given based on my earlier experience today.

It's a good fish, not necesarily big, but enough to put up a real good fight even on my ludicrously too heavy tackle. After a short but sharp fight, I lamd him, and he's a beauty, a 15 inch picture perfect Ozark river smallmouth. I hold him up for a few seconds against the view of the foothills of the Ozarks in the background, then let him go. This exchange will make me 5 minutes late getting home, but I think that's a trade I'll take.