I felt the 11‑inch plastic worm crawl over every rock with the
agonizingly slow sweeping retrieves coached by my guide. After tedious fishless hours methodically plowing over, through and around rocky bottoms and submerged snags there was a violent reaction to a hookset. The rod pulsed sharply downward as a heavy fish fought frantically to regain freedom.
Joe Garrett, former member of Bass Cat’s Regional Fishing Team guided. At the time, we were shaking out his new 1993 Pantera II Bass Cat before a weekend bass tournament.
While he semi‑immersed himself in a deck compartment rummaging for gear, I tried bringing the bruiser nonchalantly to the boat. When fishing with a pro, do not let anything like a heavy bass destroy your outward cool ‑ right? Even if it is the best bass you caught all year (make that several years) - don’t lose face appearing overly emotional about a common ordinary BIG BASS!
It plowed water while shying from the boat just as Garrett raised his head. Startled, he grabbed the net exclaiming, “Man, that’s a FISH!” His reaction afforded great relief. No longer concerned at the image my heart created dancing wildly behind my shirt, I focused on landing the furious lunker.
Lake of the Ozarks enjoyed outstanding bass fishing that summer. Invariably, it’s weekly fishing reports indicated bass the most active species next to the sunfish action.
That is, until I planned this trip with Garrett. The day before, he suggested reconsidering our original night fishing trip. The lake dropped six‑inches in three days and bass moved off structure close to shore seeking deeper water. It was the old “YASHUDABINHEREYESTIDDY” story.
We fished ledges and structure 10‑15‑feet deep near 40‑70 foot channels. Lots of hits but the short strikers showed little enthusiasm for feeding. One‑13‑incher totaled the action for several hours work until we changed our pattern.
We moved onto a rocky flat 35‑feet deep near even deeper water in the main channel. Garrett quickly received several savage hits tearing off his worm. It was while he repaired that damage I tied into the lunker. The luck of the draw was with me for a change. I tried hard not to gloat. Maybe not all that successfully but I made a weak attempt. When you get a good man down, stomp the heck outta him! And Garret was one of the best bass guides I ever fished with.
South Central Missouri’s 1992 summer on LOZ was among the coolest in memory at that time. The lake avoided usual water fluctuations due to Bagnell’s reduced power requirements resulting from cooler seasonal weather.
However, just before this maiden voyage in Garrett’s new boat a hot spell contributed to a slight drawdown as Bagnell went into power production mode and the lake fell six‑inches in three‑days. Sounds insignificant but bass moved away from the docks and their submerged beds seeking deeper water.
I asked Greg Stoner, MDC Fishery Biologist, why small fluctuations in water levels could generate such caution in bass. He stated, “A bass’ lateral line is extremely sensitive to barometric pressure changes. When they sense the slightest reduction in pressures from the surface, they may instinctively seek safety in deeper water.”
He also said (emphasising there was no scientific basis for the assumption) the reaction could stem from original instincts derived from their stream origins. Spring’s floods and an arid summer’s exposed mud flats teach surviving bass to respond quickly to varying surface levels in wild rivers and streams. At first hint of dropping water levels, stream fish seek the deeper channels avoiding a life threatening “stranded high and dry” syndrome.
Garrett and net crouched at the gunwhale awaiting my fish. Three times it frantically evaded him. Finally, he scooped it for pictures and a release that showered us in the act.
Often, a successful day weighs more from knowledge gained rather than what hangs on the stringer. However, it is infinitely more satisfying when you outhit the guide in the process.
I remain optimistic it offered no permanent damage to our friendship.