It’s time for the First Annual JimmyCsays Fishing Report.
It was a quite a fishing season, but, unfortunately, I had little to show for it, and the bank account is about $400 lighter. The first of two outings came in August, when I drove down to Sterrett Creek Marina in Warsaw, MO, near Truman Lake dam. I rented a bass boat, complete with a depth finder and big-old motor. (With the depth finder, you can see where the fish are, but that hardly guarantees you’ll catch ’em.)
As in the past, the desk clerk told me what areas to avoid because of tree stumps just below the surface. I thought I avoided those areas, but — wouldn’t you know it? — the propeller banged into a submerged stump along the way. I was hoping the propeller didn’t incur significant damage, but when I got back to the marina and was waiting to settle up, I saw two or three guys looking at the propeller and pointing. Oh, oh, I thought.
In short order, the desk clerk was supplanted by a woman who I believe co-owns the marina. Without introducing herself, she gave me the bad news: The propeller would have to be replaced, and the boat would have to be pulled from the water in a day or two and examined for further damage.
A couple of days later, I got an email informing me I was being charged $225 for the propeller replacement. With a half-day’s rent of $125, that put my tab at slightly more than $350. A line at the bottom of the receipt said, “Thank you for your business, we hope to see you again soon!”
Did I catch any fish, you ask? No. Didn’t have a bite.
About a month later, I called Orleans Marina at Stockton Lake and arranged to rent a much smaller boat with a 15-horsepower engine. The price was right: $42.59 for half a day. What a deal, I thought!
I’ve been to Stockton, a popular sailing lake, and I know that the wind can play havoc with fishing boats. I checked the weather report the day before I went, and the wind strength was supposed to be about nine miles an hour the next day. Very tolerable, I thought…Unfortunately, I checked the Kansas City forecast, not the Stockton, MO, report.
The next morning I started down I-49, and as I got an our or so south, I noticed the wind was whipping the treetops around. I got worried but pressed on. When I was within about half an hour of the marina, the phone rang, and it was one of the marina clerks. She said the wind was quite strong and asked if I wanted to reschedule. I was tempted to turn back but told her I was so close that I would press on.
When I got to the marina, the wind was blowing 15 to 20 mph, with frequent gusts up to maybe 30. “Stay in the cove,” the clerk told me. “Don’t go out on the main lake.”
I’ve had experience on wind-blown lakes — one particularly unforgettable day at Lake of the Ozarks when I was beseeching The Almighty to let me get back to land — and I took her advice. But even in the Orleans Marina cove the boat was darting and twisting like a paper kite. It was an all-out battle to maintain control of the tiller, and a couple of times the boat spun around in circles despite my stoutest efforts.
I got the line in the water a few times, but, under the arduous circumstances, the line on my bait-casting reel kept backlashing — commonly referred to by fishermen as the “bird’s nest.” I would alternately pull on the line for a few seconds to try to undo the mess, and then I’d have to abandon that task to try to right the ship.
After less than two hours, I gave up and retreated to the dock. Before I left, one of the clerks said, “Are you going to try it again sometime?”
“I don’t know,” I said, lying through my teeth, having determined never to go back to Stockton.
I think it goes without saying that I didn’t catch any fish.
On the trip home, I was exhausted from battling the wind and the tiller. My back hurt, and I was disgusted.
When I got home, I put the tackle box on the garage floor and perched the rods against the wall. I decided I’d make another run down to Truman, probably to State Park Marina, in October. But October came and went, and the tackle sat in the garage. This morning, Patty said, “Is fishing season over?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Then, get the rods and tackle box out of the garage and take them down in the basement,” she directed
And that was it for fishing 2021. The tackle is on the work bench in the basement.
Look for another exciting fishing report next fall.
JimmyCsays: At the juncture of journalism and daily life in KC 
I would think about getting a guide
I have thought about it, Cecil. But I’d feel foolish telling him not to drive the boat more than 15 miles an hour.
Thanks for bringing a smile, and I’m sorry you got no bites. My Dad and my best friend were both avid fishermen, and although I wasn’t really interested as much, I always liked our frequent outings, mostly Missouri creek and stream ventures. Maybe on a warm day next spring we’ll get you down to Massey Creek and see if there are bass spawning up from Truman Lake and the South Grand River. The bullhead and carp are always biting, if nothing else.
The first time I saw a carp was at Dale Hollow Reservoir on the Kentucky-Tennessee border; I thought it might be a small shark. Boy, those are ugly fish!
Glad you were not after a great white whale.
How about fly fishing? Bennett Springs is lovely.
I’ve done some of that. It’s less of a hassle, but there’s always the chance of getting a hook in the ear, and you have to have clear space 20 feet or so behind you. It’s kind of show-off fishing, whipping that line back and forth and dropping the fly softly in the water.
Brad Pitt sure looked good doing it!