So there I am, on the couch at 6:30PM in my 600 square foot Boston apartment home from the work week. What to do, what to do...? Should I head out to the Boston bar scene and enjoy a few adult libations? NAAAAH, there is a storm coming and the cusk-in' could be GOOD! So I loaded up the 7.3 Powerstroke and headed North on 93. I made it to the lake at about 9:00PM, set my cusk lines and jigged......and jigged.....and jigged. After 3 hours without a single cusk I decided to call it a night. But what a beautiful night it was. The moon was peaking out behind the clouds lighting up the snow covered lake. There wasn't a puff of breeze and it was plenty warm at 28 degrees. Way better than a Boston bar IMO.
Saturday I picked up my brothers dog Dre and headed to a rock pile that I knew held small mouth bass.
I managed to ice 2 nice smallies (only got a picture of one because my flag had popped as I caught the second one).
The spool was just barely moving so I gently picked it up and started bringing in line, I felt the weight and set the hook. I started bringing it in hand over hand and it was HHHHEEEAAAVY! Then like a summer rain storm, it was gone. The line went slack and I sunk onto my knees and screamed. Oh well, next time.
Sunday I took my pops out fishing with me. We only managed one small laker but between us we missed at least half a dozen fish
My reaction time needs some serious improvement. The lake was a complete white out. At one point my dad was driving the 4-wheeler and didn't realize he was no longer moving. Although we only managed the one fish, it was great to be out fishing with my dad.
Sorry for the long post just wanted to share my experience.
Cheers & tight lines!
