European Vacation
June 11, 2008
Yesterday afternoon, a familiar 208 area code showed up on my caller ID, and since I only have one friend in Idaho, and since I speak to him a couple of times a week, I knew it was fellow Inside Line writer Terry Battisti. That confused me, because I thought he was supposed to be in Italy all month.
Apparently he must miss my mindless chatter about Senkos and buzzbaits, because he decided to call me from the old country. Then again, the general purpose of the call was to gloat. He was enjoying fantastic food and wine and I was stuck at the office.
“We’re staying in a beautiful farmhouse at a winery for only a few Euros a night,” he said. I looked at my government-issued stapler, the stack of papers awaiting me, and my drab surroundings and didn’t feel much excitement.
I was able to commiserate with Yamamoto’s Heidi Roth, assistant editor of Inside Line, pro staff coordinator and general “Jill of all trades” back in Page, Arizona. While she’s holding down the home fort, the bulk of the GYCB bigwigs are headed to Rome for EFFTEX, Europe’s version of ICAST (I don’t know what it stands for, but to me “EFFTEX” sounds like some sort of derogatory statement against Texas). Battisti will join them there.
Not jealous, not jealous, not jealous. Yeah, right.
A few years ago, veteran bass pro OT Fears called me to invite me and my friend Bill down to Venice, Louisiana to fish for redfish. He was going to be there with a crew from SPRO/Gamakatsu. If we could find our way there, they’d have lodging, boats and hopefully some great Gulf seafood ready for us (have you noticed yet that just about every one of my blog posts finds a way to mention food?).
Unfortunately, I had a conflict that week and couldn’t make it. When I got home that evening, I told my wife that “OT called and invited me to Venice, but I can’t….”
“You’re not going to Venice without me,” she interrupted.
“Don’t worry. I can’t go anyway. I’ve got another obligation,” I explained.
She didn’t seem placated, and then mentioned under her breath that I better not ever go to Europe without her.
“Venice, LOUISIANA,” I clarified.
“Oh. That’s a different story.”
Can’t wait for the invitations to fish in Paris, Texas and Florence, South Carolina.
Shedding Stereotypes
June 10, 2008
Do you remember the bad joke going around a few years ago which said something about the best rapper being white (Eminem), the best golfer being black (Tiger Woods) and the best basketball player being Chinese (Yao Ming)?
I don’t want to get into any arguments about the validity of those assessments. Nor do I claim that joke as representing my own feelings in any way, so if it offends I apologize. I’m just trying to use it to lead into a less offensive point:
If twenty years ago, someone had told you that one year the best bass angler in the world would be from Michigan, the most well-known angler would be from New Jersey and the reigning BASS Angler of the Year would be from California, what kind of odds would you have given him?
Service With A Smile
June 6, 2008
I’ve often said that bass fishermen raise more complaints in the course of a day than the average person – wrong tide, wrong weather, bad boat number, Vienna Sausages not aged properly. It’s not that we’re bad people, just that we’re not satisfied unless we catch the dogsnot out of them, and even then we’re apt to think that things could have gone better.
The message boards are filled with notes about unsatisfactory $15 crankbaits, boats that split down the middle and, most of all, poor service from dealers and technicians.
I’ll admit that I’m as guilty as the rest of you. I think the fishing industry is full of people who won’t return your phone calls or emails unless there’s something you can do for them. Six months with no replies and suddenly they’re your best buddies.
That’s why I feel obligated to point out the times when I get good service, or when I’m treated well by people who stand to get nothing in return (except my thanks).
Recently, I noticed a “clunk” in my trailer. I’d stop at a traffic light and it would sound and feel like I got hit by a garbage truck. I’d take off and a second later it would feel like the trailer had separated from the hitch. I’m no rocket scientist (unlike fellow bass club member Brian Thompson, who has a degree in aerospace engineering, which I recently learned earned him the nickname “Dexter” from his prior club in Pennsylvania), but I knew that wasn’t good.
I’m hesitant to name my local technician, because I fear that a rush of new customers could slow down the awesome service they’ve provided over the past 10 years. Still, it would be pretty weak not to identify them, because they deserve the recognition. As long as I have this place to publish my thoughts, I owe it to the world (or the two of you who are reading – Hi, Mom) to tell the truth. Harbin Marine in Lorton, Virginia has bailed me out of more boat-related jams than I can remember. Several times, it seemed that I wouldn’t have my boat in time for a tournament and they found a way to get it done. Other times, they’ve found an inexpensive solution when an expensive one was staring them in the face. The whole family, Maury, Dean, Chip, just good people, and Chip is a wizard with a wrench (or nowadays with an Optimax computer). He diagnosed the problem quickly, then recommended that I call my boat dealer (Pop’s Marine, another quality operation, but 150 miles away). I called them and they told me that the trailer was a few months past the two year warranty, but that I should call BassCat and see if they might help me out on the parts.
As an aside, I’m thinking about making one giant purchase of appliances, motorized goods, etc., each year from now on. That way, I’ll know to take off the time exactly one year and one day hence, when their warranties expire and they all go belly up.
Anyway, I called BassCat, spoke to Bobby Lee in service, and even though I was slightly out of warranty, he agreed to cover the parts. That’s why they’ve won the JD Power award several years running. I don’t have any affiliation with the company, but it’s service like that that attracted me to them in the first place. Good boat, good people, from owner Rick Pierce on down.
It seemed that all was good in the world, and I’d have my boat back in plenty of time for a May 23rd 600 mile haul up to New Hampshire. Then Murphy showed up. It was neither Harbin’s nor BassCat’s fault, but a comedy of errors (shipping reroutings, etc.) pushed my repair up to the limit. I was on the phone with Bobby Lee and Chip every day. I was panicked. They were calm. They went above and beyond the call of duty, put the overnight mail service to the test, pushed the limits of the work day, and listened to me every day and assured me it would get done.
They lived up to their word.
I picked up the boat at 9am that Friday, went home to pack up the Avalanche, and picked up my wife at the appointed time of noon when she got off work.
Good service is the type of service where you know people are going out of their way but they never let on that you’re a burden. Good service is service that makes you wonder why you ever worried.
Thanks guys. I owe you.
Sore Thumbs and Sunglass Tans
June 5, 2008
Summer’s right around the corner. Kids love it. The ice cream man loves it. Those of us who have to wear formal clothing to work think it sucks during the week and is awesome on the weekends – especially when you live on a body of water like the Potomac where the grass keeps spreading and the fishing stays hot even on a multi-Gatorade day.
But summer’s rapid approach surprises me a little, if only because it seems like winter was just last week. The week of the Bassmaster Classic, I feared that an oncoming snowstorm would hinder my drive to South Carolina for the big event. The drive went fine, but the crappy weather showed up at Hartwell just in time for the first day. I rode in Kelly Jordon’s boat – “rode” being the operative word -- in 38 degree temperatures and rain that ranged from spitting to nasty.
But the Classic, like all those that I have attended previously, was a fun event and a great way to kick off my spring. I spent what seemed like most of April in Texas, first fishing the co-angler side at the Elite Series event at Falcon, then working for the PAA at Fork. In between I managed to fit in two tournaments on Lake Anna (80 miles away) and two on Buggs Island (200 miles away).
The final long-distance trip of the first half of the year (I still have some local tournaments, <150 miles) was Memorial Day week in New Hampshire. My wife and I rented a house with two other families, hauled the boat up north and spent the week relaxing and fishing with awesome weather and unparalleled smallmouth fishing (not necessarily size, but numbers).
Combined with a full-time job, plus outdoor writing (two to six articles of varying lengths per week), it has been a fun but dizzying three months.
Here are a few thoughts that I want to memorialize before I forget them. Apropos of nothing:
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Certain foods serve as bridges between cultures. For example, noodles/pasta exist not only in Italy, but also in China, Japan, Thailand and other Asian countries. There are rice dishes from Mexico, Spain, Italy and once again from Asia. But I believe the most “cross-cultural” food within the United States is baked beans. I’ve had them this year in SC, NC, VA, TX and NH. Each was a variation on the common theme, but they’re all more or less the same thing. Best beans I had? The “Heartburn Beans” at Circle H Barbecue, a random stop between the Dallas/Fort Worth airport and Lake Fork. Best I could tell, the beans had stewed tomatoes, chunks of onions and a bunch of jalapenos. Good stuff. They also had tremendous brisket and the portions weren’t skimpy. Gotta give a shout out to the Yankee Smokehouse in West Ossipee, NH, too. I know many of you ‘cue elitists will say that there’s no good meats to be had north of the Mason-Dixon Line, but their ribs and chicken were very good….and I have a Mississippian to vouch for it.
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Speaking of beans, while fishing tournaments and attending other fishing-related events over the years, I’ve roomed with a wide variety of anglers and I can attest that whether a guy is two or 102, a good flatulence joke will always get a laugh. The noise of a squeeze ketchup bottle never fails to amuse.
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I made it through the first five months of the year dining at Cracker Barrel only twice (on the way to the Classic and in South Carolina). Unfortunately, I haven’t been to a Waffle House or Huddle House in ’08.
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I’ve never heard someone say they’re a huge fan of Bruce Hornsby, but if you flip through the channels on XM Radio, you’re almost guaranteed to find him at just about any time. What am I missing?
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I have to stop turning the dial on XM any time I come across a recording of the following: Johnny Cash, Guns ‘n Roses, Wilson Pickett, John Coltrane, Sam Kinison.
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Best two town names I’ve seen – Bigfoot, TX and Hooksett, NH.
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After a Tahoe and a Suburban, I was doubtful about the Avalanche I got in January, and the jury is still out, but I like the way the ’08 pulls vs. my ’05 Suburban.
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Proudest moment as a husband – our last two nights in NH, I got a combined eight or nine hours sleep. We left for home at 5am Saturday. I towed the first 200 miles before my wife commented that I was all over the road. Even though she had never towed before, we switched places and when I woke up 120 miles later, Avalanche, boat and both occupants were all still in one piece.
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Second proudest moment as a husband – recently, out of the blue, she brought up the idea that we should take a tour of various Texas lakes this Fall in hopes of buying a piece of land for retirement. Never mind that we’re probably 20 years away, I like the way she thinks.
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I’ve never seen a tackle store like Northern Bass Supply in Brentwood, NH . For most items, there is a single lure on the wall. They hand you a clipboard, you write down the item numbers and they go to the back and get everything on your list. I can’t leave there without spending at least a hundred dollars.
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Lures that have impressed me recently (no affiliation to any of these companies): Revenge Deep Runner Spinnerbaits, Megabass Giant Dog-X, Reaction Innovations Squeaky Dolphin, SPRO Little John.
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New Jersey has a bad reputation for congestion, but Connecticut’s roads always seem to bite me in the butt every time I tow through the northeast.
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I still don’t understand what makes one Chatterbait-type lure better than another.
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I don’t know who invented Tyvek. In fact, I don’t know exactly what it does, or why it’s better than its competitors (or even if it has any competitors), but I wish I had invested in it early in the process.
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If roadside signage was an indicator, I’d assume that Ron Paul was winning the presidential race.
Excessive Celebration Penalties
May 27, 2008
In recent weeks, two of my friends have been victimized a total of three times by draw partners using garlic-scented Spike-It dipping dye in their boats. Not only did they end up with boat interiors that smell like a low-grade Italian restaurant, but the stuff is brutal to get out, if you can get it out at all.
My question is: Why?
If you own a boat, you should know what a pain in the butt it is when someone else damages or sullies it in some way. We do enough damage to our own boats in the course of fishing that we don’t need someone who doesn't pay the bills doing the same. If you can't afford a boat, you should understand that most of us have made some sort of financial sacrifice to get ours, whether we have an older model or the newest 20 footer with all the bells and whistles.
If you need to use Spike It in liquid form, do it before you get in the boat. If you're not sure whether you'll need it, get a chartreuse marking pen. It may take you a few seconds extra, but there's a lot less risk involved.
I don't mind people smoking in my boat IF they keep the ashes away from the carpet, seats and gel coat. I don't mind people dipping their baits, either, with the same caveat – but why would you take the risk?
Scene From a Honeymoon
May 21, 2008
Another example of a time when I knew I'd made the right decision to marry my wife: On our honeymoon we traveled to Tahiti, specifically the islands of Moorea and Bora Bora. If you like incredibly beautiful places and can afford to spend twenty dollars on a cheeseburger, I highly recommend Tahiti. Actually, the foolish spending highlight of our trip was when we had our breakfast delivered to our overwater bungalow by outrigger canoe…..runny eggs, sausage, some fruit and champagne for something like eighty bones.
The key to the whole trip were the overwater bungalows. They were on stilts and from the outside they looked like something Gilligan would live in, but inside they had just about every amenity you could imagine. Our "hut" in Bora Bora even had a glass coffee table with a lamp mounted below so that you could watch the tropical fish through the floor. We 
could drop right off of our deck and be amidst some of the most incredible snorkeling you can imagine. We spent several hours each day doing that.
One afternoon, we headed back to our bungalow from a snorkeling excursion to get ready for dinner. We were swimming among bright schools of thousands of fish, at times so thick you could feel them brushing off of you. Occasionally we'd see something larger, but for the most part they were pretty small.
As we approached our deck, the biggest fish we'd seen all day had staked his claim to the spot beneath our ladder. My wife started gesturing wildly. We got up on the deck and removed our masks.
"Did you see that big fish on the ladder?" she asked.
I nodded.
"Now I get why Roland says to never pass up a ladder when you're flipping docks."
I had been worried that once we were married whatever interest or enthusiasm she'd shown for fishing would be done, but apparently she'd taken it to heart.
Now, when we flip docks, I have to angle the boat so I get first shot at the sweet spots.
(Editor’s note – for the sake of marital harmony I’m quite sure what Mr. Robbins intended to say was, “…when we flip docks if my lovely wife is accompanying me I’m very happy to angle the boat so she gets first shot at the sweet spots.”)