The Calling

Lately, I have had a lot of time to think about what gets me out on a kayak. I mean more than just the chase of a big fish. Especially since my time between bites, if any, seem to come less and less frequently, now that bass in general, are moving away from their well known haunts to their lesser known wintering holes. I’m sure, I am not the only kayak angler out there, or reading this blog that has been dubbed crazy, addicted, sick or fool hardy by friends and family. And I know that they don’t mean anything behind it, they just don’t get it. Really when you look at it from their perspective, there is a strong argument for their opinion.


I mean really, what would compel reasonable and intelligent men and women to forego the creature comforts and the allure of a cozy, warm bed on a cold fall morning to venture out on a cold, windswept lake or river. I’m not sure I can accurately put it into words. For me, I think kayak fishing has far surpassed being a passion and now borders on being an obsession. Still, I cannot help but to weigh the pros and cons, especially on days when nothing I try seems to trigger a bite. Ahhhh! the frustration that comes with not being able to figure out a good pattern. It’s on days like this that I find my thoughts drifting, or more accurately rifling through the memory banks, searching for a clue, anything that I might have read, heard or seen, that may come in handy and help me solve the mystery, what do the smallies want today?


Still more times than I would like to admit, I come up empty handed, blanked, zero, zip, zilch, nada, bubkis. So, after several hours of enduring the cold and racking my brain to no avail, I grab my paddle in discussed and with stiff, cold hands and achy joints, I make for shore. But I am not down for long. So with a light heart and a wounded ego, I take the time to appreciate the beauty of my natural surroundings. Sometimes you just have to remember what is really important and savor the moments that we may not otherwise get. About that time, I take a few photos of the water, the trees and the sunset as my consolation prize and trudge on. Very frequently, even while paddling back to the take out point, I find myself thinking about my next excursion, the next adventure and who I’m going to ask to come with me. Usually by the time I get back to my truck and packed up, the angst of a no fish day has passed like a minor inconvenience. Now my head is already buzzing with the thoughts and plans of trying a new stretch of water, and with this new plan, comes excitement and hope. I gently tap the Coosa and think to myself, next time, we’ll get them next time girl.

– Tony Heredia

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