The Devil You Know vs. The Devil You Don’t

| May 25, 2011 | 0 Comments

The Devil I know may have a pitchfork, but I know (s)he has at least one fork – Lake Fork.

I was beguiled by the famous name “Lake Fork” from the beginning. Lake Fork, is hands down, the number one provider of lunker bass (65-percent come from Fork) in the Texas Parks and WIldlife Department’s “Toyota Sharelunker” program, a program that procures thirteen-plus pound bass for scientific research here in Texas. Currently, there are

When I checked in at the office at Lake Fork Marina, there were a few well organized sheets on the glass counter that reported daily weight / length and who caught largemouth bass for a particular day. The numbers for any one day are pretty amazing. Five, six, eight one after another, 20-inches, 22-inches, 26-inches on the same date, names, guide’s names, all organized in perfect columns of propaganda … as if it were necessary proof.

The Marina was host to the Bass on the Fly Fishing World Championships, and with a grand title like that, you may have raised expectations. No, this is the world of fly fishing tournaments, so the idea of bright sponsor tour jerseys over pudgy protrusions, promotional trailers, swarming media interviewing albino raccoon-eyed booyas was nowhere to be found. What was to be found at Lake Fork Marina was a roomy expansive grounds where bass boats of all flavors and costs parked in neat rows, putting in and taking out of a lake that is suffering just like so many in Texas – at four feet low. Some floating slips were aground, and warnings abound for raising motors, stumps and going slow. Bass boats everywhere, trailered and backed right up to the door of the long row of motel rooms (reminding me of Abe’s in New Mexico), fishermen and women hanging out on their lawn chairs, telling lies that happen to be true here.

I registered at the small white tent that was getting buffeted by wind, number six entrant in the kayak division of the “World Championships,” so I felt like the early bird getting the worm. You never know, a low number might come in handy in a crowded field. A flash of recognition on signing in, followed by the question of where my cohort, Austin Anderson, a fourteen-year-old fly phenom was … he was adrift in a torrential, biblical downpour headed east out of the DFW Metroplex toward our location, and his Grandfather might have to unhook the boat and pull his big honkin’ truck with the boat before it was over with.

There was no doubt Lake Fork was headed for a rain event Friday, you could feel it in your armpits. The humidity and heat was off the charts for this time of year, and it was only a matter of time before the heat triggered an event. The western heat island that is DFW was already making the news, and I had to guess that pre-fishing Friday was pointless on two counts – 1) the rain that was a few hours (at most) away, and 2) the fact that this kind of weather can be a game changer. The fact I drove through 90-percent of the 100-mile journey in rain, also went a long way toward simplifying the forecast as well.

To be continued …

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Category: East Texas, Events, Fishing Reports

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I write. I photograph. I fish, and I live.

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