The fishing gear was ready. The battery on the blue boat was fully charged and the tow vehicle was backed up to the garage door. A 4:00 AM take off was planned for a visit to Benson Lake. I didn’t set the alarm clock – I always wake up about 4:00 AM anyway. As planned, I woke up at 3:55 sharp. The robins were already chirping to welcome in the new day.

The one thing I hadn’t planned on was a visit from Mr. Inertia. We had quite a battle about 4 o’clock. Well, Mr. Inertia won that round. I awoke again at 4:55 and this time, after another short battle, I overpowered Mr. Inertia and pried myself out of bed and got moving. While the coffee was brewing, I loaded the fishing gear and hooked up the boat.

Sunday morning traffic is almost non-existent, so the 25.5 mile drive south to Benson Lake passed quickly and without incident or accident. The weather was cool, overcast and a little foggy.

As I arrived at the lake, I was a little surprised to find another angler launching his inflatable raft. Usually, at this time of year, I have the lake all to myself. The other angler, however, was only fishing for planted rainbow trout.

Anyway, I started down the shoreline casting my favorite lure, the floating Rapala minnow. I like the 11 size. It cast very well and has 3 treble hooks that usually insure a good hook-up.

The first bass I hooked was a dandy. He just came up, and with a huge swirl, slurped in the lure. I reared back, setting the trebles and the battle was on. We struggled for about 30 or 40 seconds when all of a sudden, the dirty rascal spit the hook and said "good bye." Those big bass have really hard mouths. Oh well, another "long line release."

The second bass I hooked was not so fortunate. I was fishing a 3/8 ounce, blue/black, rubber skirted jig with a rather large hook. I had switched to the jig because I was now fishing deeper water with a faster drop-off.

I cast the jig up under some overhanging Alder limbs, let sink to the bottom and started hopping it along the bottom. Tap-tap -- I reared back setting the hook so hard that it went through the bass’ cheek and out near his eye. He was a legal 12 incher so I bonked him on the noggin to spare him the pain and misery of hook removal. He probably wouldn’t have survived anyway. Of course, his chances of survival probably would have been better if I hadn’t bonked him.

(Later examination of his stomach contents revealed that he had just eaten a large crawfish. Even with a full gut, the jig must have looked pretty appetizing. Of course, bass have no hands to examine stuff with so their only other option is to pick it up with their mouth and check it out that way.)

Moving right along, the shoreline that is, I cast the same jig up near the front of a dock in shallow water. The water was maybe 3 feet deep at the end of the dock. I had just "sweetened" the lure up with a little fish formula and it must have smelled really good. The big lunker bit, and bit, and bit until something (probably my deft angling touch) told me I was getting a bite. I reared back setting the hook hard. The hook, again, went through the bass’ cheek but without any serious injury.

I could see that it was a really nice bass and that it was hooked well. I let her swim around in the water while I readied the scale and tape measure. I figured she would be much more comfortable there in the water with the jig in her face than flopping around in the bottom of the boat with the jig removed.

I hoisted her aboard, measured her, weighed her, carefully removed the hook, admired her beauty and gently put her back into the water. I wished her a happy, healthy future as she swam back to the area of the dock. She had weighed 3 pounds even and measured 17 ¼ inches.

Another nice day on the water in the great northwest!

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