No place that I've been can match the magic of Dale Hollow when the dogwoods are just opening, lime green to white, and the redbuds are in their full glory, no place.....
We board the boat well before the the first evidence of the new day, stars vivid between broken clouds and reflecting just a hint of north wind in ripples running down the main channel to our west. The motor catches and the 2 stroke exhaust mixes with the the steam from the fresh cup poured for the 5 minute cruise to the first spot.
We come off plane with the first hint of gray appearing on the horizon above Sewell Bend and we slip silently within casting range of the mixed rock/shale/mud stretch of shoreline where we know that an adult smallie should be prowling for breakfast, having pulled up with the impending dawn.
One with a jig to bounce down through the rocky structure, the other with a rigged shiner to parade parallel, our work begins. Somewhere along this 100 yard stretch out to the point we know that we'll get thumped and our senses are tuned. But, as we work the structure it becomes clear that the one we're seeking isn't home in this slack water but optimistic that she'll be up at the point where the north breeze is creating some amount of current that should position the fish.
At the point, at the time the offering encounters bottom in 15 feet, a solid thump, hook-set, and solid fish! With incredible speed the fish rockets toward the depths and the lair where she left a short while ago. Leaning into her, she starts toward the suface and clears the water in her first acrobatic leap. A good fish. Several powerful, lightning fast runs later I reach down, lip, and hoist the first of the day, a husky 5.7 lb fish that in the 51 degree water is several ounces short of where she'll be when the temp hits 58.
http://i456.photobucket.com/albums/q...eHollow5-7.jpg
To the east the clouds are breaking and before the sun squeezes above the horizon the Dale Hollow symphony commences, starting with the two male cardinals claiming possession of the respective points behind and ahead of us and boasting virility to all females who hear. Joining shortly is a male loon's mornful lament, then accompanied by an echoing who-who who whohoooo from the hill-top poplars of a great horned owl. In instant refrain from mixed hardwood/cedar groves answers 3 Tom turkeys. Now a pileated woodpecker hammers out the stacatto percussion on a hollow beach. And, with the first rays of sun the orchestra is in full chorus. Magnificent!
We work hard through the day, the wind laying with high sun, and we find 57 degree water in a favorite spawning cove. There should be some staging fish here and we need to make 'em bite. Long-casting 5" shad-imitating jerkbaits retreived fast and choppy on the 8 lb spinning tackle, we seek to make a fish slash in reaction. Within a few rips/cranks along the black shale bank my X-Rap is slammed and the line screams toward deep water to my right. Immediately my buddy launches a cast and begins ripping on the same plane and instantly hooks up. His fish runs straight at us, makes a hard left and straight under the boat and launches skyward opposite the side where the rod is thrust into the water to counter the run.
For the next several minutes we battle the fish, swapping ends of the boat in Chinese fire drill fashion, successfully clearing lines under the troller and big motor a few times, seeing and knowing that these are both fish-of-the-trip, battling the sting in their lip and the threat to their freedom.
My buddy leads his to hand first and hoists a ripe 22" 6.7 lb tremendous smallmouth, soon followed with my 22 3/4" 6.3 lb cohort. Wow, what fish, what a thrill, what a day!
http://i456.photobucket.com/albums/q...6-5and6-11.jpg
This is why I go to Dale for several days each spring, returning as I have now for 22 years and will continue until my ashes rest where each day starts with this most beautiful, magical arrangement of sights and sounds.
Best regards,
Slimy



Reply With Quote
! Thank you for sharing!
