Over The Edge

Swinging for the fence

Man, it’s time to get this show on the road. I’ve been staring at this computer screen for almost three months now.

OK, that’s not entirely true; I have spent a ton of time on the phone. I’m sorry; I know it can’t all be fishing, but I signed onto this rodeo to spend the bulk of my days out on the lake. I suppose that does sound a bit like a spoiled kid. “I want to play outside!” Well, I do want to play outside. And I am afraid if I don’t get a little outside time soon, my inside might soon be surrounded by rubber-padded walls. I know when my wife asks, “When are you going fishing?” that my malady is beginning to affect those around me.

The 70-something temperatures on the other side of my office window aren’t helping any. And my daily companion in the office, Maggie (the yellow lab,) is getting a bit antsy with the weather, meaning twice as many whinings at the door to go out. Of course, I get a sample of the beautiful weather as I let her out, but have to head right back into the office.

But it won’t be long … maybe tomorrow. Mid 70s, light winds … what’s an angler to do? There are streams that need floatin’ … full of hungry smallmouths neglected all winter. They are catching bass big time on Table Rock. And I’m hearing that the trout fishing has been excellent.

It reminds me of that stupid old joke:
“My wife and I have sex only once a year.”
“That’s awful, but why are you smiling?”
“Because tonight’s the night.”

If this column comes off stupid sounding, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me; it’s just hard to concentrate.

Now please don’t misunderstand me; I’m not at all considering just blowing off everything to go on a fishing binge. There are other important issues that need to be dealt with. I saw my first gobbler of the year strutting in a field yesterday. I’ll soon have to deal with the chore of getting out and scouting around for turkeys.

But I do need to get some fishing in before my catching turns into watching. It’ll soon be time to hit the road to produce another season of Bass Edge. I get to do precious little fishing while taping season runs, but I still love being out there. I would have made a good rock star; (except for the lack of musical talent) I see why some folks love it out on the road.

It’s sort of a mix of emotions like the opening day of baseball season and heading off to summer camp. We all live in different places, so the only real time we spend together is on the road. It’s great to see the guys again. But then it’s also time to go to work; the games count now.

Thousands of road miles and gallons of gas station coffee are aptly rewarded with those special feelings that can only come from experiencing a new lake for the first time. Around each cove lies a mystery -- perhaps vast open water or maybe an eagle perched above a sleepy cove. Unfamiliar sounds and smells help define a first visit.

Hospitality comes in different forms, but the Bass Edge boys tend to have a nose for finding excellent hosts. We make a lot of friends along the way.

It’s true that stress builds at the end of a day’s shoot, when the fish have yet to contribute to the script, but somehow it always works out. We always get our show … or so far so good. I like to attribute that to the sage advice I offer from the camera boat. Others might point to the fact that Aaron Martin and another of the world’s best anglers just aren’t going too long without catching fish.

When, within the first hours of shooting, you have more than a dozen fish on tape, optimism soars … five runs in the first inning … making dinner plans by mid-afternoon.

But quitting time can be a bit touchy. However the decision to quit for the day is arrived at, you can bet that Aaron wasn’t in on it.

“We can’t even see you!”
“Three more casts.”

Just kidding, he’ll quit if you beg him nicely.

Sorry, back to the matter at hand … I think a canoe trip for me and Miss Maggie is probably the best medicine. It’s that time annually when I have to re-learn the lessons of Maggie in the canoe with all of spring’s critters running up and down the bank.

“Doctor, it hurts when I rub my elbow.
”Then don’t rub your elbow.”

But still, optimism reigns supreme… swing for the fences. I might even take a fly rod.