Heat Index

I'm gazing out the door from inside my comfortable 65 degree workplace...eyes glazed over, the roar of air handlers working overtime in the background. Heat radiating from the pavement causing the horizon to look as if it's underwater. Everyone's talking about the heat index today. What does 110 degrees really feel like? 3:30 hits hard like a school bell and the middle aged students-of-life flock to their rolling steel coffins for the arduous commute home. What's on their minds as they roll along the scorching black pathway toward their neighborhoods? I recall the words of one Adrian Cronauer: "Were you born on the sun?! It's so hot, I saw little guys in their orange robes burst into flames. It's that hot!" I had plans to go fishing this evening but visions of me working the bank in my Muck Boots tossing a squarebill around structure as the cool breeze blows through my T-shirt cranking in BossHawg are quickly turning to phantasmagoric hallucinations and apprehension. I would normally head out around 6:30 or 7:00 and stay until sundown or boredom, whichever comes first. "Tonight is just not going to happen", I think to myself "and I'm going to miss out on another day of fishing." I had already promised to watch a movie with my daughter at some point, but that was planned for later. My passion for bass fishing has steadily eclipsed my once equally fervent passion for mountain biking. The only drawback is that my eating habits haven't changed and though I don't spend my days on the water sitting still on a boat, I've been gradually suffering the physical consequences of the lack of exercise. The thought of me ending up short of breath and riddled with coronary disease like so many of my peers has motivated me to get back on the bike for a reasonable amount of time each day. Exercise is supposed to be tough and unpleasant, right? So with the pit of Hades breathing upon me, I hopped on my bike for a quick 10 miles. A good sweat breaks out within the first half mile and the wind tries its best to dry me out, but as the sweat keeps pouring out...I begin to feel cool and comfortable. By the end of my ride, I'm close to exhaustion but refreshed nonetheless. I put my gear away, hit the shower, and rehydrate. My mind gravitates back to fishing. That's where my attention rests in my spare time these days. I see it as a duty to myself to get the most out of it while there's no snow on the ground, because once Jack Frost takes over...the Midwest bass lay dormant and trout become the main focus. Thinking back to how miserable I was the last time I fished with the ambient temperatures in the high 90's, I recall the bite being really fun between 8:00-9:15 and I barely even thought about the hot coals I had walked on to reach that point of the evening. Instead of spending hours on the bank, I'm just going to hit the evening window before the sun goes down. I already had a great ride, spent some time with the family, and cooled down. I headed toward one of my go-to lakes but as I passed one of the lakes that I rarely fish...I looked over and saw how the sun was casting shadows across the corner near some brush peeking through the surface of the rippling water. Something was telling me to forget "safe" and give it a try. I jammed on my brakes, pulled a U-turn, and pulled in to the gravel parking area. I had only packed a handful of lures due to my limited window. The fishing report says soft plastics in heavy cover are really hot right now, but that just tells me what everyone else is using and what the fish are growing accustomed to seeing all day long. In the effort of being different, I broke out a new yellow and white Bomber Square-A. I would usually go for my Baby Bass or Fire Tiger slam-dunk patterns, but I haven't used this one yet so I thought I'd give it a try...and I'm happy I did. My first fish (and the best one for the evening) came within 4-5 casts. The little squarebill banged against the rocks and sticks violently and was snatched within 5 feet from the bank. I set the hook and secured my catch...a nice 20" largemouth. I had considered working the dam, but given the fact that I have done the opposite of everything I would normally do to this point...I moved away from the dam and worked the coves. My next little prize was ambitious to say the least. I had worked the little Bomber all the way to the edge of the bank and pulled it out of the water. When the lure was about 2" above the surface, a little sunfish startled me and jumped up out of the water and hung his lips on the front treble hook. I literally laughed out loud! I was only there another 25 minutes or so, but I landed a couple more largemouth and came home refreshed instead of totally obliterated by the heat and still had time to catch that movie with my kiddo. A nice midweek break in my own grueling pattern to best enjoy my passion.