Taking that tip from the fishermen at Manny Luftglass'es demonstration a few days ago, I decided to fish the reservoir today--if rain wasn't too heavy. Approaching the recreation area east to west on Route 22, rain came down in sheets, but I knew showers fell locally all day. Sure enough, I soon saw breaks in the clouds. Rain tapered off, and before I made the turn to access the launch area and Ranger Cove, dry pavement passed under my tires.
As I made my way down the far shoreline--the reservoir is down five or six feet--light rain punctuated calm surface, not enough wetness to have to wear raingear. I fished a five-inch Senko, rigged Wacky because the heavy plastic casts a mile and sinks fast. Fishing in ten feet or so of water, the faster sink rate at least meant that I could cover more water. And especially with a low pressure system, I imagine bass would be more easily provoked.
If they were there. I fished a couple or three hundred yards of shoreline without a hit, turned and quickly made my way back, dismayed. All I had seen of life hugged very close to the shore edge--a pod of smaller alewives--but they didn't seem to be evading anything imminently present at all. I fished that small point that drops off very fast, especially to the sides with a pocket effect. But towards the corner my senses picked up.
I am a firm believer in intuition because it works for me. But by telling you, you can only relate or not. Because intuition is an inner experience--I think everyone has it sometimes, but most don't trust it because of the subtle mystery, not plain, graspable fact of the outward senses.
As I approached the corner where the basalt boulders meet the sand shoreline across the dike, I felt my sense of possibility elevate. And rather than make a long cast directly into the corner, I simply pitched the worm about 10 feet right out in front, having observed how the depth drops sharply. Sure enough, line moved off swiftly. I tightened up, set the hook, and fought a very good-size bass stripping drag twice, strong runs.
When I had looked down into the water before I tossed the worm, I saw nothing there. But the pitch clearly seemed the right action to take, and an 18 1/2-inch bass, maybe an ounce or two over three- and-a-half pounds, proved the point.