Into the thunderstorm they moved in single file.....no real leader.....just a consensus of moving in a westerly direction. Thoughts of the impending task before them ran concurrent with the planned strategy they hoped would help them succeed in reaching their goal, both as an individual and as a team member. They had been trained for this task by many that had gone before and they had practiced endless hours at great expense to refine their skills which were to be put to the test. Knowledge and experience were great acquired assets but to many Lady Luck would have as much weight in reaching their goal as any other element in their arsenal of the tricks of the trade.

 

This night the gods of fire and storm unleashed their fury from the clouds. The rain poured and the sky was cleansed with bolts of fire from the heavens. The wind played a rain dance across the land with rivers of runoff washing across the roads. Still onward they plodded with focus on the task to be accomplished with will and determination paving the way. The Prince of Lighting lit the sky at the flip of a switch with bolts the size of highways in to heavens. The earth shook and moaned, but onward they plodded.

 

Under circumstances that they would never consider in work phase, they launched their crafts and assembled in formation for the take-off. The wingmen jockeyed for position with running lights ablaze and helmets tucked down tight. The instrument panels were lit and all systems were in GPS mode. Each had their assigned area where fortune was to shine on them this night utilizing their training and the discipline of military bearing on achieving the task. With a wave forward of his hand, the leader unleashed the fury upon the waters and their crafts rose to the level of flight in ground effect scattering in all directions, some fading into the deep dark and unknown.

 

The Bassmasters of North Alabama were on the waters of Lake Wilson of the Tennessee River in full force and effect. Lighting from the heaves had not swayed their desire to chase the worthy black bass and the rain only made their task more of a challenge. There were (5) new converts who had never been snipe hunting or night fishing (about the same kind of sport). They sat through the darkness, heard the pitter-patter of rain drops on the water and the wind driving the waves upon on the bluffs along which they fished. Their casts were short to keep from hanging in the tree limbs over lapping the banks and direction became a problem in the dark night. Of the many rods they carried out this night, most were returned without lures or baits tied thereon due to the numerous hang-ups that occurred in the darkness.

 

Along the banks were the occasional security light and every now and then a purple night light showed the position and direction of a bassmaster in chase of the foe. Sound was discouraged and white lights could not be utilized. The night sandwich was soggy from the rain and somewhere in the dark he heard his partner step on his new $300 rod as it shattered into a thousand pieces. The floor of the boat was jammed with an unorganized mess. Running in the night from hole to hole, the drift wood was parted as if by a pulp-wood worker with a chain saw. But the skill of being deaf and blind was honed this night and the touch of feel was sensitized for the tail tale tick....or was it a rock or log that the lure came over?

 

But they brought bass to the scales to better their peers and obtain the bragging rights. Each was exhausted, most were wet to the bone, and all were sleepy.....just let me get to that bed. Will the new guys come back for another night of this.....probably so.......in about a couple of months....a good (12) hours sleep....and when the memory has dimmed. They spent hundreds of dollars for this event, spent the night in a lot less than comfortable conditions, and then threw the fish back in the lake. I know it does not make a lot of sense, but it gets down to this.........the CHASE.........of the BLACK BASS that drives men crazy.

 

 

DLG

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