[Late Summer]
WITH HIS LANKY frame, laid-back demeanor and soft Oklahoma drawl, Luke Palmer comes across as the quintessential small-town American guy — so much so that older B.A.S.S. members might easily envision a Norman Rockwell portrait of Palmer fishing in a wooden rowboat gracing the cover of a 1950s-era Saturday Evening Post magazine (to all readers below age 30, that was once a very popular publication). “The town I’m from [Coalgate] is a good two hours from Tulsa and has a population of only 3,000,” Palmer says. “My great-grandfather opened a hardware store there in the ’40s, and my family still runs it, so we pretty much know everybody in town and everybody knows us. When I’m not traveling on the Elite tour, I’m either working at the store, fishing, hunting or mowing lawns. I really enjoy mowing lawns.” Really? “Yep, really!” Palmer’s easy-going manner belies the fact that he’s a fierce competitor, a three-time Classic qualifier with killer bassin’ instincts. How did Cool Hand Luke fare on a hot September day on a small lake he’s never seen before? You’re about to find out!
◗ 6:36 a.m. It’s foggy and 64 degrees when Palmer and I arrive at Lake L’s remote boat launch. Palmer pulls the cover off his rig and arranges an arsenal of Falcon rods on the front deck.
7 HOURS LEFT
◗ We launch the Phoenix. Palmer checks the water: It’s 80 degrees and stained. “Even though fall is approaching and the lake’s surface temp has undoubtedly cooled off some, the water below the surface is probably still
