The Rock Wall

I decided Wednesday I had to know if my fishing buddy, Dan Hare, was still alive. He was 86 the last time I talked to him. For two years we have not received his hand drawn watercolor Christmas card. So I called his number and got the same recorded message from his wife I got every other time I called. This time I left a detailed message.

Thursday evening, my cell phone rang. Kimball picked it up off my cart and said, “It’s from Kenner, LA.” I said, “That’s Dan Hare,” so she answered and talked awhile then handed the phone to me.

Dan is 90 and because of health issues, he can’t walk.

Dan and I were both members of New Orleans Bass Masters. I had heard from other members that Dan was easily provoked to fight. I had to put my boat in the shop so Dan and I arranged to meet at the West Pearl River Bridge, a major tributary at noon. Kimball delivered me a couple of rods and a tackle box.

Dan had the bass located under week patches in the middle of the wide river hitting topwater. He was chatting constantly in the front of the boat and told about the time he got a bug in his ear and it was driving him crazy. Water didn’t help so they decided to shine a light in his ear. Bug crawled out to the light.

I instantly had a question but I thought twice about asking in case it made him mad but I couldn’t resist, “Which ear?”

It got quiet in the front of the boat. Finally Dan said, “This is my boat. I don’t have to put up with that kind of abuse. Get out.” Then he laughed.

He was the personnel director for a big New Orleans hospital and flew to a national convention each summer. He’d schedule a stop in Springfield most years and we’d bass fish the strip pits for about three days. The owner died and the property sold so the public can’t fish there any more.

When Davis was about 10 our niece, Ginny, got married in New Orleans. Kimball and Adrian went to the wedding. Davis and I went fishing with Dan before the ceremony. He took us to one of the spots along the Mississippi River between New Orleans and the Gulf. We got into a school of red fish, salt water drum. Dan and I would put a piece of shrimp on a 1⁄2 oz. or 3⁄4 oz. jug and make a long cast. When we got a strike, we’d set the gook and hand the rod to Davis. Then the battle was on. When the 10 or 12 lb. fish saw the boat, it would strip 15-20 yards of 10 lb. test line. Then Davis would wear down the fish again and bring it to the boat so one of us could net out for him and release it. Dan doesn’t eat fish.

I discovered that the main baitfish for big bass was little bass so my artist wife painted some diving baits to look like little bass. Most plastic baits have a rattle built in to sound like shad. I used a 1/16th inch bit to drill into the sound chamber and a toothpick to put a drop of epoxy in the sound chamber. No shad in the pits. Worked.

Once I was in the front seat of the boat and tossed a bass colored top water with three sets of treble hooks over by the bank right in front of me. Before I could start my retrieve, a bass hit the bait and charged the boat. Before I could set the hook, she jumped right by the left front of the boat and threw the bait. Dan, who had caught a lot of big bass in Florida, estimated the fish at over 10 lbs., the biggest bass I ever had on. I might not have released that one like we did all the others.

One day, Dad went to pick up Dan and the boat because I was working at the Picnic. Dan asked Dad if he needed help backing in the boat trailer. Dad said, “Do you want it in the same tracks?” and did. That might have been the day Dan found the big bass from a long pit bunched up at one end. He said he caught 20 bass over five lbs.

One day we were getting ready to launch my boat into a fast flowing small tributary which funnels to Kentucky or Spotted bass to Lake Pontchartrain.

I emptied my rod box and put my tool box in there telling Dan, “I don’t want to get caught short up this little river.” Dan said, “How tall did you say you are?”

I replayed his statement from our first fishing trip even though we were standing on the launching ramp, “This is my boat. I don’t have to put up with that kind of abuse. Get out.”

KL