Offbeat Topwaters
I PUSHED THE Minn Kota foot pedal toe-first to execute a right-hand turn to hold position for perpendicular casting at numerous blowdowns that scarred the tasty shoreline. The water was clear, the sun high, and it was hot. The bass were occasionally eating a Texas-rigged straight-tail worm as it drifted down through the ends of those treetops.
But not often, and they weren’t very big.
We certainly weren’t on a livewell-filling pattern that would win the Tuesday-nighter we were fishing.
I heard a familiar flicking sound from the pedestal seat in the back of the beat-up Bass Tracker, and I turned to see the old man lighting another Swisher Sweet.
Following an exhale of sweet-smelling blue smoke, he said, “Boy, you gotta piss ’em off. That sissy finesse worm stuff ain’t gonna work today.”
Our combined three bass maybe weighed 4 pounds — if I was being generous.
The old man pushed the button on his Zebco 202 and let enough line out so he could examine the single treble hook on his old, faded Hula Popper. It used to have a feather on the back, but that had long since disappeared after countless boatside battles. With the cigar clenched between his teeth, he reared back and flung the OG popper toward the spot where the
