Largemouth bass ate the Whopper Plopper like it was good.
I don't expect to catch bass on topwater lures this late in the spring, especially on bright, hot, sunny days, but I brought a few anyway. If all else fails, a topwater bite might save the day.
The occasion was an impromptu gathering in Arkansas County among friends, including federal magistrate judge Joe Volpe of Little Rock, his son John Volpe, Steve "Wildman" Wilson, his daughter Celeste Molsbee, her husband Nathan Molsbee and son Luke Molsbee, 12. Our host was Anne Marie Doramus, an avid angler who serves on the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission.
The gathering was supposed to convene Thursday morning, but true to recent form, a cascade of events conspired to blossom into what Joe Volpe calls the "Hendricks Curse." I arrived after 1 p.m. for a trip that began without me at 10:30 a.m. The Volpes crowed insufferably about having already caught at least 30 bass, with taunting offers to share fishing tips and to share some of their lures.
"Judge is doing all the yapping, but I'll bet you John's catching all the fish," I said to Doramus.
The water was coffee-colored but clear, with visibility down to about 18-24 inches. Carpeting the bottom was a vast sea of elodea that stretched about 18-24 inches from the bottom, with about 2 feet of open water above. The elodea is ideal shallow cover for bass, and we caught as many in open water as we caught next to the bank.
[Video not showing up above? Click here to watch » https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0kclfeWS0Hw]
Tupelo trees dotted the waterscape. Some were in clusters and others were single. A few brush piles broke the surface, as well. Bass hunkered on the shady sides of the trees, too, and anywhere near the brush.
Soft plastic worms rigged wacky style were the hot tickets. I used a cotton candy colored Zoom Fat Albert, a 6-inch worm that I've had in my bag for years. I believed it would be a good creek lure, but I have never caught a fish with it. It was very productive in this environment with a hook through the middle.
Doramus used small rubber rings to secure her hook to the outside of her worm, a thin Senko-style bait colored black with red flake.
"The rings make your bait last a lot longer," Doramus said. That was not an issue for me. I wanted to get rid of all the Fat Alberts before the day was done.
Doramus and I also used hooks with very light weights molded to the shafts. They are designed for small flukes, but they are ideal for rigging wacky style. They sink a worm very slowly, and they are so light that they allow a worm to rest atop the grass. We hopped them over the tops without snagging, and a bass hit on every third cast.
The bass were exquisitely colored with dark, occluded emerald hues offset by brilliant black highlights underlain by a coppery glow. Many of the strikes felt like bream bites with their signature tap-tap-tap. All were bass except for one huge bluegill that I caught, plus a crappie and warmouth that Wilson caught.
Every bass burrowed into the grass, which made them feel like 4-pounders or better. Most weighed 1 pound or less.
Wilson and the Molsbees arrived shortly after I did. Wilson and Luke Molsbee boarded our boat, where Wilson tied on a Whopper Plopper for Molsbee, who is new to fishing. A Whopper Plopper is a floating, tapered, cigar-style style lure with a propeller tail that spins when the lure is moving. It throws a lot of water and makes a loud gurgling sound.
This was also Molsbee's first attempt at using a spinning reel. It took him a few flings to get the timing, and his first casts were very short. One bass didn't hold it against him and hit the Whopper Plopper almost immediately. Molsbee played the fish adroitly and landed it.
"This is his first bass ever!" Wilson shouted as the entire party erupted in shouts and "Woo-Hoos!" He caught at least one more before joining his parents in their boat.
Wilson also used a Whopper Plopper variant that is shaped sort of like a frog.
"I'd rather catch fish on a topwater than with anything else," Wilson said
So do I, even if it means catching fewer fish. I tied on my own Whopper Plopper, and the results were almost immediate. I got a strike on about every sixth cast. After a couple of misses, I noticed that the fish held the lure underwater. I gave them a two-count and then set the hook by gently sweeping my arms and hips.
Though she continued to catch fish on her worm, Doramus couldn't stand it anymore and tied on her own Whopper Plopper. At times, all three of our baits looked as if they were racing as they chugged side by side toward the boat. We had a small competition to see whose bait wouldn't make it back without getting smacked.
That was about the time the "Wildman Curse" kicked in. First he threw his lure into a tupelo tree. Freeing it took awhile because of the "Doramus Curse," personified by the untimely death of her trolling motor just as it got windy. After freeing his lure, "Wildman" reared back to cast and snagged his lure in a low branch behind him. After freeing it, he broke his rod on the next cast.
The wind blew us across the lake into a tupelo brake, which was like being in the fishing equivalent of a pinball machine. Each tree was a bumper, spinner and drop target. All this while the wind slammed the powerless boat into other trees.
"Check this out," I said, making a long, arching cast that slipped safely under a tangle of low limbs and splashed at the base of a tree.
"Ready for this?" I asked.
"Ready!" Doramus said.
No sooner did I turn the reel handle when a fish smashed the lure.
"Wow! A called shot!" Wildman said, laughing.
The wind blew us toward a new cluster of trees.
"Ready for this?" Doramus asked.
"Ready!" I said.
She made a long cast that landed in a slit of an opening between two trees. No sooner did she turn the reel handle when a 3-pounder, the biggest bass of the day, took the challenge.
"Y'all are wearing me out with all these called shots," Wilson said.
So it went for the next hour, and then, like flipping a switch, the wind died and took the bite with it. It was the best four hours of bass fishing I've had this year.
