 My
first tournament this season took me to the Potomac River.
Located between Maryland and Virginia, the Potomac River
is without doubt one of the premiere fishing locations
on the eastern seaboard.
River fishing for bass is tough. So many factors play
a role in the presentation, location and color selection.
The Susquehanna River in Maryland, the St. Lawrence River
on the US and Canadian border and the St. Johns River
in Florida have left me with physical and mental scars,
including memories of lost fish, lost opportunity, lost
equipment and a several close, personal looks at Mother
Natures awesome power.
The Potomac today would be no exception.
With a stalled storm over the Atlantic Ocean, wind and
high tides caused havoc for the fishermen. During official
tournament practice on Saturday, I had damaged my boat
in only 20 minutes of battling the waves and wind. I was
now a non-boater. Add to that the prospect of bad weather
for the following day and I began wondering if it could
get any worse.
Sunday morning showed no promise of change as we waited
patiently for the start of the tournament. I watched as
200 boats were rocked from side to side by turbulence.
How rough would it be when we took off for Nanjamoy Creek
(normally a 40 minute run.
When our number (boat 117) was finally called, we moved
out into the main river channel. Almost immediately, waves
hit us from both sides as we pushed southward on our journey.
As each wave would hit, we were thrown upwards by the
force of the water, only to come crashing downward into
our seat. The force of impact sends a jarring pain, which
sears through the spine and into the skull like a kick
from a steel boot, but you just keep going. Suddenly and
without warning, a large wave appeared in our path. It
was too late to turn and too late to avoid. We hit the
wave full force and watched helplessly as the electronics
located at the bow the boat were ripped from the mounting
and slid along the flat casting platform towards us. As
we pressed on, equipment straps began to give way and
rods bounced towards me. Rob, who was driving the boat,
battled with cross winds and waves with each passing moment.
The next large wave that hit us ripped the electronics
and windshield from its bolted mount in front of RobŐs
face. How he was not injured still remains a mystery to
me. We were now without depth, temperature or location
electronics. With no shoreline in sight and the waves
continually beating us from all sides, we had no choice
but to proceed.
After what seemed like an eternity, (one hour and 40 minutes)
we reached our destination. Gathering our thoughts and
equipment, we began fishing. The creek provided us with
some shelter from the wind and current and soon the journey
seems a distant memory. (Fishing can do that!). The size
limit for the Potomac is 15 inches. That is a two-pound
plus fish, so catching them to size proved a daunting
task. Between us, we caught and released forty fish in
the 13 and 14-inch size range. Rob finally caught a 15-inch
keeper but we were now facing an out going tide that bought
the fishing to an abrupt halt. We searched for a few more
fish in vain and decided we should begin our journey back
to the launch site and weigh in the only legal fish of
the day.
We tried to be optimistic about the journey back, hoping
that the wind would be at our backs and that the turbulence
has in someway subsided. How wrong we were!
Once we left the bay, the wind lifted us into the raging
river system once again. Pressing onward, we hit large
waves than we had seen in the morning. The trolling motor
on the bow was ripped from its "gator mount"
and plunged into the water causing a large spray to cover
us both from head to toe. Rob cut the engine and we tied
the motor down to secure it and protect us both from the
possibility of it breaking free and hitting us full in
the face, (A trolling motor weighs approximately 40 pounds.
With a gator mount, that is increased to near 70 pounds)
not a pleasant event!
As we moved on, we began to notice water coming into the
lower deck area around our feet. Rob turned on the bilge
only to find that the unit had failed. Now we were beginning
to fill with water and still had several miles to go before
reaching safety. After almost two hours, we finally pulled
into Mattawoman Creek opposite the launch site. Here we
tried to find out what was wrong with the bilge, but with
so much water in the boat, there was little we could do.
With time almost run out, we had to make a final crossing
of the river at one of the widest points. When Rob tried
to get the boat on plane, we became lower in the water
at the rear of the boat. The only solution was for me
to sit on the bow and counterbalance the boat so that
we could attain enough speed. I had to perform this function
twice before we got back to shore. Just when we thought
it could not get any worse, the wind picked up again and
began rocking the boats tied to the moorings. We could
not prevent the boat from being pounded into the dock
and other vessels tied close by. So great was the force
of the wind that the boat cleats were ripped from the
bodywork. Rob went for the truck and trailer and I took
the boat out from the area and moved along the shoreline
where some other fishermen had tied their boats. Throwing
a line to the shore, the boat was "secured"
and I waited for the trailer to be reversed onto the ramp
to remove the boat from the water. While waiting, I timed
the water coming into the boat as around an inch every
five minutes. We had just made it back! By the time we
got the boat out of the water, the lower deck area was
full. As we raised the boat onto the trailer, Rob turned
to me and asked, "have you ever had worse" to
which I replied yes I had (Ed note: "we will look
for that story another time") I also added that today
was a good day! A good day? Why is that? I replied today
was a good day because we are here at the dock. A bad
day, is when you never make it back.
  
Photos of some of the damage.
Tight Lines!
|
