In early 2004 my
Dad heard from a friend of a friend about some public water that was full of
bass and rarely fished. We called it Lake X.
Hearing of such things was a lot more common in the 80s and even 90s but
in this new millennium where land owners had purchased almost everything available
to make it private, this small parcel of land with two lakes existed. Possibly.
We planned a trip and found it to be everything promised. It was remote,
full of bass yet hard to fish from the bank. I immediately started planning a
return trip with my kayak.
Two obstacles presented themselves that I needed to plan for. The first
was very primitive access. No vehicles could get within a mile of the water.
The road was blocked off. The only way in was on foot. How could I transport
the kayak that far?
The second obstacle was the distance. The drive was a little over two
hours but it was remote and cell phones didn’t work out there. I needed another
kayak buddy to be safe while out in this barren country just in case something
happened. I only knew one other kayaker at this point in my life and he was up
for the challenge.
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| A couple of hours before the drag |
In April of 2004 we set out for our little oasis in the scrub brush with
hopes of catching every bass in the lake. I had rigged a golf club caddy as a
cart to tote my kayak the mile down the road needed. Aaron stacked his kayak on
a make shift cart as well and we headed off. 20 minutes later the water greeted
us and huge smiles broke across our faces. A minute later we were racing across
the water to different spots and after the first few casts we landed a pair of
bass.
This pattern repeated itself throughout the day and we lost count after
150 bass. This truly was an unknown, untapped resource willing to reward those
determined enough to reach her banks.Sun kissed and weary, we decided to head back around six that evening.
Darkness was only an hour away and the barren landscape would be full of wild
hogs, snakes and bobcats sooner than later.We strapped in our kayaks and headed back down the path to our vehicles.
Less than 50 yards from our departure spot disaster struck. The axle of my cart
gave out and dropped my kayak and gear to the ground with a thud.
A mile from safety we quickly became desperate. We tried to stack my
kayak on top of Aaron’s to cart back but it quickly folded his cart. We were
able to repair it and decided to scrap the piggy back idea. The only other
option was to turn my anchor rope into a harness and drag the kayak back.
Either that or leave it until we could return. I wasn’t prepared to give up my freedom or my investment so the harness
was made. It quickly became apparent that the walk to the water slanted
downhill which made this more of a gradual climb back to the vehicles.
An hour after we started, darkness setting in and after being startled
by a rattlesnake and a herd of wild hogs, we saw the last stretch of road. A
welcome sight if ever I’ve seen one. The last of the expected guests scurried
across the road and the deed was done. I said a quick goodbye and loaded my
kayak, exhausted and weary.
The long drive home blurred into highway stripes and headlights. I
remember both exhilaration and exhaustion equally.
It turned out the kayak was ok.
Scarred but war proven we would make the trip just one more time.