I finally got to put my new Coosa “The Green Goblin” on the water this morning. Folks, let me tell you, it’s a fluke that I even got to go this morning. The last two weeks have been one big blur! Between an unplanned last second road trip to the Coosa River in Alabama last weekend and all of my kid’s track meets, softball games, yard work and my regular job… Well, this morning I had a two-hour window to fish and that was all! My boss, the wife said, “If you’re late for our daughter’s first communion retreat at church this morning, you better have drowned or caught the world record bass.” Dang, that’s pressure!
I opted for a pre-dawn bass assault on my local flow, the Natalbany River. This slow going flow is about four miles from my house and is not really the Mecca of bass fishing. However, it can produce some nice bass when the Bass Gods are generous.
At 0-dark early this morning, I launched my Coosa into the dark ghostly waters of the Natalbany right off of Highway 22 east of Springfield, Louisiana. What an eerie morning! I had paddled no more than three hundred yards down the river when a sea of fog slithered in over the trees like a snake and engulfed my Coosa and me. It was just like a scene out of the horror movie “The Fog”.
I fired my Rapala J-11 jointed minnow up next to a blown-down log on the bank and twitched it two times. Like a submarine stalking its prey, a green & white flash shot out from under the log and slammed my minnow with the force of a jackhammer. Instead of ghostly pirates yielding swords and wanting to take my soul, I was greeted with a nice big ole largemouth bass on my first cast out of my new Coosa. This yak is destined for lots of fish!
The fog kept rolling in and the bass kept hammering my Rapala Minnow for the next hour. I actually caught 12 bass and missed a few in between. None of the other bass were as big as the first, but they were all keepers. Just like a thief in the night, the fog vanished and the bass quit feeding. The Bass Gods were very generous! Some of the paint on my minnow was worn slap off. (“Slap” is South Georgia for “completely”.)
With no time to spare I raced home in my Lunker Express. (That’s my Ford F-150.) Once home, I barely had time to unload the Goblin & gear before my wife was loading up the kids to go to church. I didn’t just briskly run into the house to get dressed; no, I ran like a scolded ape…
Ole’ Bayou Shoal made it to church on time with the family and when we kneeled to prey on the pew in front of us and the “Ode de Bass” from me wafted by my wife, I could see her rolling her eyes as I acted like I didn’t see her.
Just another day on the Bayou!