Litton's Fishing Lines: A Innocent Bass and an Unwelcoming Bass

Friday, August 25, 2017

A Innocent Bass and an Unwelcoming Bass

Cedar Rapids

Barryville, New York. So we see my earlier hunch defeated, and I thank Patricia, and myself. Her 50th birthday, a marvelous day.

On the way through Port Jervis, I noticed right away that the sign for Port Jervis Diner is new. So I'm glad yet that I got the photo we keep framed in our living room, and had a laugh at the previous thought that what I captured was the last we would see of the Diner.

I've posted on Barryville a number of times in the past, at least two of these posts rank well on the internet. I'll leave a link to one of them, a mellow and at least to me in some respect, endearing story, if the photographs perhaps say even more. So many times we floated the river, innocently released from duress of troubled times, then enjoying our stay at Cedar Rapids Campground. A place I once praised--yes, a little ambiguously--as like the Wild West. The photograph of my son--aged five--and his friend Tommy--aged three--features the two of them not near enough a motorcycle to imply ownership, because my son's arm is around Tommy, not the bike, and yet near enough to tell a little of the story. This photograph once especially came home to me. As I implied in the post I related the other day, "As if She would Forgive Me," it's not just that Jesus said "Resist not evil."

Ever since my wife got involved many years ago now, we've eaten lunch on the grass in front of the Zane Grey Museum. If you Google Grey's name, you will find he wrote westerns. Better than that, merely. He wrote Riders of the Purple Sage.

Some two or three hundred yards downstream of the Zane Grey Museum is a bridge John A. Roebling designed, built by workers. I did not photograph it. I don't understand its design, an issue I raised with my wife, to no conclusion of course, as we're not experts on its design. It is interesting. I suppose an internet search of the Roebling Bridge over the Delaware River near Barryville might reveal a photo. One thing I was aware of. Photographic composition from where we had anchored downstream wouldn't have pleased me. Perhaps had I snapped a shot just after passing under the bridge, but I had hits--all missed--from three smallmouth bass as the river, running at fairly heavy volume due to this summer's rains, carried us down almost a hundred yards or so before I anchored us in quieter water.

Water was clear. No, not as clear as I have witnessed of these stretches. We did well. Nearly 20 smallmouth bass caught. I know this isn't quite a bragging figure, as I seem to have got hearsay at some time or other of a 50-bass Delaware day; whose catch I didn't learn about. I caught two fallfish, also. Both of the fallfish, if I recall rightly, struck a #9 Rapala floater. One about 15 inches. The other, 17 inches. We caught a number of good-size longear sunfish, also. These fish are perhaps more often named redbreast sunfish.

Bass quite near two pounds today, no. Largest about 13 1/2 inches. Unfortunately, I put the damper on my wife's appetite. This first bass, photographed below, showed such innocence in its eyes I said so and put it back. Yesterday, I noticed our Old Bay seasoning near the crock pot in our kitchen. Smallmouth bass seasoned with Old Bay my wife and I both enjoy as delicious. Towards the end of our six-and-a-half hours, I caught a bass with such a disdainful look in its eye, I would have taken it home. A bass fully 13 1/2 inches, a fish worthy of some addition to tomorrow's meal. (Of course we ate at Port Jervis Diner on the way back to Bedminster this evening.) After what I had said about the bass at the float's beginning, Trish insisted I put this unwelcoming bass back alive, and so I did.