Years ago - 70's and early 80's - my dad used to take my brothers and me floating on the Rolling Fork through Marion and Nelson. Sometimes I wondered if we were along for the company, or to scull paddle the jon boat. I think Dad looked at trolling motors as an unnecessary luxury when you have a couple strapping teenage sons.

Often we would really slay some nice sunfish and bluegill on fly rods and popping bugs and (mostly small) bass on topwaters and little Wee R's and other crankbaits.

My favorite Rolling Fork memory:

When I was a teenager my brother and I got to the takeout point (US 68 bridge?)long before my dad and our uncle did. We were so far ahead of them because they were delayed along the route by the act of actually catching fish. My brother and I walked up on top of the bridge, killing time. There had been a lot of high water prior, and the driftwood was stacked all around the bridge pilings.

In the middle of this twenty-square-yard tangle of laydowns, trash and tree limbs was about a 2-foot round opening. Standing on the bridge, I opened the bail on my spinning rod and lowered a jointed Rapala down to the hole. When it hit the surface, I raised and lowered it a couple times.

On about the third twitch, a 4-lb. largemouth came up from the black depths and absolutely demolished the Rapala. He swallowed the bait, came out of the water about 3 feet and disappeared back into the hole.

Hey, I was 17, dropping a topwater 40 feet into a 2-foot hole surrounded by trash seemed like a logical thing to do. The thought of what might happen if I actually got a bite was the furthest thing from my mind. I had her on for about 5-6 seconds until my line snapped.

I never will forget watching that fish come up. I saw her at least two full seconds before he struck.

That single event hooked me on topwater fishing for life. I'm the guy you'll see on Cumberland in January working a Spook across a point in 42 degree water.

JCB