Phlip

It started when I put the "Blue By You" in the water. First problem, no nav light. "That's one." Micster had a spare that we tried, it broke off in Angel's hand. "That's two." Not to worry, Stickbait to the rescue with a spare bulb, lights on, all's a go for blast-off. A rough ride "buckin' and ballin" up the San Joaquin to False River and into Frank's Tract to one of Angel's "get that limit quick spots."

Sometimes riding in bass boats reminds me of my old rodeo days, riding bulls. One difference, I haven't been bucked off of a bass boat (yet), but much more of that stuff and I'm going to start packing my old bull rope and wearing my spurs. A couple of other differences, the boat doesn't have horns and smells better. While I always have a bag or two of jerky in the boat, the jerky on those bulls was a little rare for my taste and tougher to get out of the bag. Overall advantage goes to the bass boat.

We did well at stop number one during the WON Bass two weeks ago and it didn't disappoint us Saturday. We put three into the boat, nothing great but decent keepers. They were caught pitching and flipping soft plastics and jigs into and around the tulles.

We boogied on to our second spot, down Old River, no action, not a nibble, not a roll. This was also a spot we had hit and caught fish on two weeks before. Enough time spent, we still needed two, we scooted.

Off we roared to the next hole on Middle River, the "Blue By You" was smokin' right along. We pulled up on our spot, one that we both know well and found each of us had fished many times in past. Again nothing, not a nibble, not a roll. We looked at each other and said, "we both know this place holds fish, where are they?" If they aren't along this berm like usual, they didn't move to China, let's look at the outside along the rock wall. Neither of us had fished that outside wall before. There they were!!!!. Again, not monsters, but keepers. Caught them throwing flukes against the wall and working them back to the weed line. The fish were holding tight against the weeds. They weren't big but good enough when you are trying to fill out a limit and we did just that. We knew the bigger fish were buried down under that mat but couldn't coerce any "to come out and play." The tide was going out big-time and the bass lane between the wall and the weeds was getting a might small, too small to hold fish, time to go on to another spot to improve our weight.

We pushed the throttle forward and the "Blue By You" responded, leaping out of the water north up Middle River to a place along Mildred. Almost there, we heard a slight and short grind come from the motor, we looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders and continued, we had just a few hundred yard to go. I pulled back on the throttle we heard a second short grind and glided to a stop and were surprised to find that the motor had stopped on it's own before I killed the ignition. I tried to restart and found it was froze up like the proverbial "bull's a__ in fly season." That was f___up number three and the last straw.

Oh shit, now what, here we are at Mildred, no way to get all the way back to the Break, it's around 9:00 AM. We pulled the engine cowling and looked inside. No holes in the block, no leaks, all looks OK from the outside. The motor could not be turned by hand, not in neutral, not in gear. We know we have big trouble and are most concerned about not getting the fish back for the weigh-in. A few minutes later we hear that unmistakable ROAR of a bass boat that can be only one, The Micster!!!

Mick and Scott were smokin' up Middle River and we were waving as big as we could. Micster couldn't figure out why we were doing jumping jacks on the back of the boat, when we should be fishing. This in no time to be getting your morning exercise. We explain the problem and decided that the closest place to take the boat is Tiki Lagoon. Mick and Scott towed us, (how about a professional showing up when you need him). He got us close enough that we could make it the rest of the way on the trolling motor. Time is marching on. We cut Micster loose, and sent him on to find the big one. It was a good thing, 'cause they picked up the extra weight that we needed to make the difference between 1st and 3rd place.

Micster explained that as a team member, he could not transport our fish or we'd both be D.Q.ed. We had to find someone who was in the tournament, not a team member and willing to transport our fish and one team member to the weigh-in. We limped along on the trolling motor, clock still running. We made it to Tiki and didn't see a single bass boat along the way. It took us about 45 minutes. By the way, I fished the whole north wall of Empire Cut from Mildred to Tiki on the way in, not a nibble. At least I eliminated some water for another day.

I had a ride arranged from Tiki back to by pickup and trailer, but no way to get Angel and the fish in. We were no more that 3 to 4 minutes from tying up to the dock when we saw a bass boat cruising through the 5 mph zone. They were wearing life jackets and looked like tournament types. We waved them down and motioned for them to come over and yelled across, asking if they were fishing the Top Six. I gave them the slice across the throat sign, indicating we were dead in the water. They looked at each other for a while and had a short discussion. I can just imagine. "Here we are in a tournament, still needing fish and these two YaHoos want us to stop? Who the hell are they anyway, do you know them? No, do you? No. What do you think? Oh what the hell, lets find out." They did drive over, we explained the predicament. That turned out to be Dave Brennan and his partner Paul, neither of whom had we ever met before. I don't even know where they are from. They agreed to take the time to load our fish and Angel into their boat and take him back to Big Break.

I got a ride back to Big Break by car, thanks to my neighbor Dale Drury, the owner of Micster's middle river sweet spot and was there for the weigh-in. The rest is history. Without Dave Brennan and a little providence, the NCBF would have been five boats against six and out of the money. You think I wouldn't have felt like the world's biggest pile of horse shit?

Dave, you saved my ass. I really owe you. Thanks again.

That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.

Phlip