The warm summer weather is here, and the bass bite is on. I cannot think of a better way to end the day than fishing on a pond in the late afternoon when the wind has ceased and the only ripples on the lake are created by a top water plug. The strikes are fierce and almost heart stopping.
My dad, Cooper Jordan, and I spent a lot of time fishing on Hardy Lake in Dillon on tech weekends, and we always stayed on the water for longer than we had planned.
One day when I was in second grade, my little sister, Olivia, joined us, and we paddled old wooden Carolina boat into the lake.
I hooked one great bass which lunged itself straight up in the air and threw the hook before crashing back into the water. My mind causes fish that I lose to seem so much larger than it really was, but I was devastated.
Dad took a long cast, and his worm landed next to a weed line. A moment later, he set the hook and landed a 6-pound bass. (The largest that I had ever seen). He released it and took a second cast into the exact spot as before and the bite was instant. He played the fish carefully allowing it to take the line when it tried to surge away. The fish cause a lot of waves and swirls but did not show herself. Dad finally had the bass alongside the boat and it weighed in at 11 pounds!
I insisted that he should have it mounted on the wall, but the fish was full of eggs, and dad released it to spawn and get caught again.
Ever since this day, I have been fishing and waiting for the catch that tops his record. I have come close, but have never crossed into the double digits weight. Then again, dads are supermen, and some records are not meant to be broken.