8.17.07 Fishing Lake Thom-a-Lex

The plan was to be on the lake before sunrise. I was to stop by and pick up Joel then drive over to Mark's place where the Skimmer would be hooked up and ready to go. A quick stop at McDonalds to pick up our breakfast put me a little behind but there's ample forgiveness if you show up with biscuits for everyone. Mark is always ready ahead of schedule so when we pulled onto his street it was no surprise to see the Surburban's running, parking lamps, radio and AC on. Gear stowed away, we pulled out of the neighborhood, the green digits on Mark's radio read 6:13, we'd be there with time to spare.
Driving over the bridge toward the marina we were expecting to see several boats at the ramp but all was clear. There was a truck trailering a boat across the street in the parking lot which was odd. As we neared the lot the mystery was solved. Aircraft cable spanned the driveway to the ramps, keeping wouldbe anglers from unloading their crafts. A sign in the lot stated the lake did not open until 7am. Odd, I'd never heard of that before.
So we stood around the boats, cutting up, mapping out our fishing stategy and listening the lake come alive (funny how many waterfowl you see when you're not waterfowl hunting). A few minutes before 7am the Cedar Lodge store, adjacent to the ramps, opened so I walked in to get a bottle of water and to ascertain some advice about the lake. The proprietor was very helpful, giving ample tips regarding location and tackle to use. Now, when the ramp opened we would have a great plan of attack.
With the rising of the sun, the already warm temperatures became more intense. The humidity was high and the lack of breeze made it sticky and uncomfortable. Mark fired up the 90hp Suzuki and pushed us out of the launch area. The slight breeze our forward momentum created was refreshing. Mark picked a likely cove and we began casting along the shoreline. Joel was throwing a weightless worm, Mark a buzz bait and I was heaving a large topwater lure. We had a great morning, talking, laughing and even doing a little fishing. We caught a nice,"slab" crappie, a little catfish and small bass. The surprise of the day happened as we were about to leave. I'd stowed my gear and was watching Joel fish, hoping to record him hooking a bass. But a beautiful grass-line point prompted me to break out my casting rod outfitted with a top water plug. As Mark was piloting the skiff, Joel was casting off the bow so I cast off to the side, trying to place my balsa offering close to the grass. Nothing hit the bait but it sure looked good zigging and zagging through such "fishy" looking territory. As we rounded the point I made one more cast to the stern of the boat, the lure splashed a couple feet past a stick protruding from the grass. A couple of twitches illicited an explosive response and "uh oh" was all I could say. As I fought to bring this lunker to the boat, Mark and Joel began an Abbott and Costelloisque routine of looking under, around, in the midst of all the gear, trying to find a net, and bringing back memories of our Ocean Isle expedition (mental note - buy Mark a landing net). Before they could come up with anything I had the trophy lipped and in the boat. Wow! What a fish! After snapping a couple photos we released him, exchanging high fives and having a hard time believing what had just happened. What a blessing to spend time on the water with friends and to top it off with a great fish. We left the lake, grateful and looking forward to our next trip to Thom-a-lex.

7.25.07 High Rock Revisited

After our last fishing trip was rained out (see 6.19.07 post "High Rock'd: NC Bass Fishing") Greg and I agreed to give High Rock another go shot. Our schedules finally aligned a month later and we headed down to "the Rock" early one Thursday morning. The fishing turned out much better with Greg catching a small largemouth within minutes of first wetting our lines. A short while later I connected with an even smaller white bass. However, the highlight of the morning turned out to have nothing to do with angling. About mid-morning Greg trolled towards a likely looking spot and as we cast plastic worms into blow downs and other structure, a large crash and a brown whirl flashed out of the pines in front of us. What I thought was a owl, then a heron, then a hawk turned about to be a BALD EAGLE. This was a first. I'd seen eagles in Alaska but never in my home state. What a special blessing.

In regards to fishing, Greg and I caught several including a nice football-sized largemouth at one point in the day. He was suspended under a downed oak, waiting to ambush any unsuspecting baitfish that swam by. Luckily my unspecting topwater bait came along first. It was a textbook strike one that every bass fisherman dreams of. I'm sure I'll be setting the hook again tonight in my sleep.

Outdoor Devotion - Amongst 'Em

I love to wade when fishing. Whether it's the frothy surf of Cape Point, the meandering current of the New River or the murky waters of a local farm pond. There's something uniquely special about what I call "being amongst 'em." For example, several years ago a couple buddies from and I headed down to the Uwharrie River near Denton to fish for bass and bream. We had our ultra lights and small tackle boxes full of rapalas, beetle spins, rebels, rooster tails and other micro sized lures. There was no need for neoprene or breathable waders as it was a hot July afternoon and the cool coffee-colored waters felt great. We had a successful trip as we caught numerous largemouth, panfish and even a couple smallies. But what really made the afternoon was being smack dab in the middle of the fish's environment.

As much as I enjoy wading I also love to bowhunt. What began as a way to prolong the deer season (in the central region of NC bow season opens approximately 2 months before gun season), quickly evolved into a passion. I bought my first bow off a clearance rack at the Dixie Deer Classic in Raleigh. I paid $75 for a brand new, bare bones, PSE F2 Maxis cam and spent twice that accessorizing it and purchasing a couple dozen Eastons. The first time I shot it at my friend Rusty's house the arrow struck soundly into his 3D buck target and I was hooked.

I practiced for several months and readied myself for the upcoming season. Rus helped me hang a couple stands on some property I'd acquired access to and a couple weeks after opening day I finally had a chance to hunt. I shimmied up into a huge split oak and
began my vigil. A hour or so later I heard the crunch, crunch, crunch of a critter walking through the woods behind. Thinking it was yet another squirrel looking for its mast supper, I disregarded the sound and resume my watch. The snap of a twig or limb caught my attention again and with it additional footsteps, this time closer. My heart beat increased as I realized this animal, whatever it was, was no squirrel. I craned my neck and strained my eyes, looking down the trail that headed from the hardwoods to the cornfield my location overlooked. It was a deer, actually three deer, a doe with two small fawns and my heart began pumping wildly, sweat poured off my forehead and my knees began to quiver. They walked under the oak in which I was perched. eased into the field and began eating grain. I could see the rise and fall of their lungs as they breathed, their eyes blink as they constantly surveyed their surrounds, the twitch of their tails as they repelled the flies that were beleaguering them. I could even hear the crunch of corn as they chewed their supper. I never thought about pulling back my bow, being so close to these beautiful, wild creatures was quite enough for that hunt.

The common theme between wading and hunting is the idea of being "amongst 'em". Being in close proximity to your prey intensifies the experience. This also brings to mind a spiritual truth that is very applicable to our walk with Christ. The closer our proximity to God, the more time we spend in His Word, the more often we reflect or mediate on His Truths, the more time we spend in prayer, conversing with our Creator, the more enjoyable, the more vibrant our life will be. A life lived within close proximity with God. Nothing can be more rewarding.

"Just a closer walk with Thee, Grant it, Jesus, is my plea, Daily walking close to Thee, Let it be, dear Lord, let it be." (Old Spiritual, Author Unknown)

"Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you." James 4:8

7.01.07 Little Boys/Little Pond

Nothing screams summer in Carolina like chasing bass and bream in a small farm pond. My friend Mark called Sunday after Church and suggested we do a little fishing. After the boys finished their afternoon nap we loaded up a spinning rod, two Zebco 202s and a tub of nightcrawlers and drove over to Mark's.
It was a pretty little pond tucked back in the woods. There was pretty little pier spanning from one bank half way to the other side. And as we approached the waters edge a bunch of pretty little bluegills left their circular beds and headed for deeper water. I baited up the boys and within seconds both their bobbers were, well, bobbing. Almost immediately we were into fish; small green bass, and beautiful bluegill as large as your hand. The smiles on two little boys' faces were much larger!
The rest of the evening was spent seeing how far and how frequently they could cast. There was an occasion snag (in the trees, on the pier, they even snagged one another) but everyone had a great time and miraculously no one was hooked. As we drove home both boys were already asking, "When can we go fishing again daddy?" I can't wait to go again myself.

Notes: When you take your young children fishing keep in mind a couple things:

1. It's not about you. You're not going to get to do much fishing. Most of your time will be spent baiting hooks, giving casting lessons, untangling bird nests, unhooking fish (hopefully), taking pictures, getting snacks, etc. Take a rod for yourself but don't be disappointed if you don't get to use it much.
2. Don't forget your camera, sunscreen, insect repellant, bottled water or snacks.
3. Remember most kids have a shorter attention span than adults. When they're ready to go leave.

Outdoor Devotion - Trespass

Preseason scouting and hard work had paid off with a couple of prime stand locations. The one I had picked out for the first morning was hanging sixteen feet up a white oak, surrounded by at least a dozen year-old rubs on thigh-thick cedars and situated in the middle of three well-worn game trails. My stands were up by mid-July and the area was allowed to settle down for the September opener.
Work duties kept me from my bow stand the morning of Opening Day so afternoon found me walking to my honey hole anticipating a successful hunt. As I approached the spot where I planned on spending the evening I got the feeling something was not right. I couldn’t put my finger on it but the negative feeling intensified when I spotted a set of ATV tracks. When I got to the large oak where I had hung the lock-on, my stand was lying on the ground at the base of the tree.
Thirty yards away sat a four wheeler and twelve feet above it, in a small pine, sat a camouflage clad hunter holding his crossbow. Months of preparation flashed before my eyes as anger chased disbelief from my spinning mind. After a brief, albeit tense, conversation, it turned out the other hunter was a new member of our club who had misread a map and chosen the wrong spot to hunt. Luckily nothing irreparable was said or done in the heat of the moment. Forgiveness proceeded apology and the situation was resolved.

Several counties away and roughly twelve months later, a beautiful, autumn day had seduced me away from office duties and lured me to my favorite stand overlooking an established food plot. After donning head-to-toe camouflage and filling my fanny pack full of unneeded necessities, I begin the short trek to guaranteed bowhunting success. I had taken 30 steps or so when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Rather than a trophy deer or some other type of critter there was a man sneaking through the hay field with a fishing pole. I can still picture the willow leaf spinner bait twirling in the September sunlight. You see, this particular parcel of property has a couple ponds chocked full of bream, crappies and bass and this fellow had it in his mind to crawl under the barbed wire fence, sneak past several No Trespassing signs and try his hand at landing a largemouth. When he spotted me staring at him through binoculars he quickly modified his plans and decided to reverse his direction. I must confess as I chased him off the property, with less than congenial intentions, my mind raced through possible locations to dispose of his body. He escaped, unscathed and I was forced to ask God’s forgiveness for the ungodly thoughts that had run rampant through my mind.
We have all been in situation where we felt wronged. How many times are we supposed to forgive someone who cuts down a deer stand, someone who trespasses, someone who steals a scouting camera, someone who poaches private property at night? Jesus said we are to forgive seventy times seven. In other words, when we call ourselves Christians we are called to go above and beyond when mistreated. Before reacting to others’ actions it is important to recall the numerous times we been in the wrong.

“…if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” Matt. 6:15