Fisherman’s Log 12.27.2014
Patrick, Amber, Samuel and Silas were gone. I was getting over the same sniffles and head congestion that my grandsons were fighting off when they departed for South Carolina. I woke early feeling better and decided to get outdoors for some exercise and a little fishing. Before I would leave Jefferson City for the Lake of the Ozarks, I needed to take care of a couple of things, I promised Michelle that I would do. It was almost 10:00 before I was on the road headed for the lake. I stopped at my favorite bait shop on Hwy. 54 and bought a dozen minnows and a cup of coffee. My first destination was to the North Shore, to fish off a private dock of friends. My hope was to catch some crappie. The roof of the dock offered shelter from a drizzle that was falling. I tried unsuccessfully for at least an hour with no bites at all. The light rain abated and I decided to leave, with one more stop, a place that never ceases to thrill me, would be my second destination! This was a place I remembered fishing in colder weather with my departed friend Dr. Roger Wen. It is a swirling ever changing remnant of the Osage River below Bagnell Dam. Before I reached my second fishing location, the light rain turned to snow and more drizzle. It was foolish and ill advised to get wet so I found the Business 54 Walmart, in order to buy an inexpensive rain poncho. I was determined to catch a fish, regardless of the weather, like my grandpa used to say, the weather we like does not matter to fish! I was alone without a boat to get very far into the wide stretch of the Osage River below the dam. I rigged a weighted bobber to allow me to cast farther and then if I was lucky catch the right current to take the bait out into the channel behind the first flood gate. I tried unsuccessfully to present the bait where I had caught hybrid striped bass last year with Roger. But not a bite for more than an hour was what I experienced and the weather this human could tolerate was deteriorating. Sleet was hitting the plastic hood that covered my WWU bill cap and recently nitro frozen spots on my face were stinging a bit, then minutes later, I noticed a commotion just beyond the first flood gate, and soon the gulls were coming down to take part in the action. I was not able to get close to the magic spot on the river, and watched in amazement when my drifting bobber disappeared! I reeled in line and felt a strong fish! After some time and a lot of rod bending drag loosening and drag tightening, I was able to tire the fish. Once the big bass was on the gravel shoal, I wished Roger had witnessed this and I reckoned this one must have strayed from the school far enough to be attracted to my bait! It felt good to be cold and tired, with one fish to take home.
I was remembering fishing in colder weather last year and trying to warm up in the old convertible when I recalled last year at the Golden Corral with good company and lots of hearty fare . It seemed I had better luck when Brother Roger Wen fished with me. I drove home and was still reflecting on my fishing buddy at home when Michelle came in to greet me and see how I was feeling. This will help and she handed me a gift card from Roger that arrived in the mail, how much of a coincidence or was it the brotherly spirit that miles do not limit? I believe it was the Spirit! The card was for Golden Corral!
This story is dedicated to you brother Wen!
Patrick, Amber, Samuel and Silas were gone. I was getting over the same sniffles and head congestion that my grandsons were fighting off when they departed for South Carolina. I woke early feeling better and decided to get outdoors for some exercise and a little fishing. Before I would leave Jefferson City for the Lake of the Ozarks, I needed to take care of a couple of things, I promised Michelle that I would do. It was almost 10:00 before I was on the road headed for the lake. I stopped at my favorite bait shop on Hwy. 54 and bought a dozen minnows and a cup of coffee. My first destination was to the North Shore, to fish off a private dock of friends. My hope was to catch some crappie. The roof of the dock offered shelter from a drizzle that was falling. I tried unsuccessfully for at least an hour with no bites at all. The light rain abated and I decided to leave, with one more stop, a place that never ceases to thrill me, would be my second destination! This was a place I remembered fishing in colder weather with my departed friend Dr. Roger Wen. It is a swirling ever changing remnant of the Osage River below Bagnell Dam. Before I reached my second fishing location, the light rain turned to snow and more drizzle. It was foolish and ill advised to get wet so I found the Business 54 Walmart, in order to buy an inexpensive rain poncho. I was determined to catch a fish, regardless of the weather, like my grandpa used to say, the weather we like does not matter to fish! I was alone without a boat to get very far into the wide stretch of the Osage River below the dam. I rigged a weighted bobber to allow me to cast farther and then if I was lucky catch the right current to take the bait out into the channel behind the first flood gate. I tried unsuccessfully to present the bait where I had caught hybrid striped bass last year with Roger. But not a bite for more than an hour was what I experienced and the weather this human could tolerate was deteriorating. Sleet was hitting the plastic hood that covered my WWU bill cap and recently nitro frozen spots on my face were stinging a bit, then minutes later, I noticed a commotion just beyond the first flood gate, and soon the gulls were coming down to take part in the action. I was not able to get close to the magic spot on the river, and watched in amazement when my drifting bobber disappeared! I reeled in line and felt a strong fish! After some time and a lot of rod bending drag loosening and drag tightening, I was able to tire the fish. Once the big bass was on the gravel shoal, I wished Roger had witnessed this and I reckoned this one must have strayed from the school far enough to be attracted to my bait! It felt good to be cold and tired, with one fish to take home.
I was remembering fishing in colder weather last year and trying to warm up in the old convertible when I recalled last year at the Golden Corral with good company and lots of hearty fare . It seemed I had better luck when Brother Roger Wen fished with me. I drove home and was still reflecting on my fishing buddy at home when Michelle came in to greet me and see how I was feeling. This will help and she handed me a gift card from Roger that arrived in the mail, how much of a coincidence or was it the brotherly spirit that miles do not limit? I believe it was the Spirit! The card was for Golden Corral!
This story is dedicated to you brother Wen!