I start the story off with this photo because this was how my weekend was. Rough. So it take sus Five hours to get there because of traffic. Then it starts with me realizing that left my damn crate that had my Fins, Life Vest, Anchor, Rod Holders, tackle bags, and bungees. We go to WAL-MART hoping that they’ll have all the shit I need. When we come back with all that I need except for fins, I find out my live well gets sat on by some drunk dude. Then as I’m putting my shit together, I realize my oar locks are in my damn tackle bags back in San Jose. Mario calls it out,”Lets go back and get em.” We grab some Clif bars and a couple of AMP 24 ozers. As we’re gasing up, Mario says,”Call Matt, he’ll bring your shit.” He was right. Matt brought my shit all the way from San Jose. THE FUCKING MAN!! But…this won’t be the last time he saves us this trip.
Day 1
My plan is to hit the rock wall. Quite a ways from the launch site. But my damn live well sucks and the wind comes up before I can get any further so I’m stuck at this tullie point where it seems like there’s nothing but dinks there. I tried to adjust my live well so that there’d be less drag in the water but it sucked just as bad as the last time I used it. One pump with my oars and I go about 12 inches and then stop. Sweet. Thankfully my only goal was to get a damn limit and it happened. I got most of my fish of a rock pile that wasn’t touched all day. Thank god. I missed a big fish too because when i set into it, my rod popped out of my hands because I still can’t grip my rod because my thumb is still fucked. The spot is producing fish although the wind is getting gnarly and the fish in my drag bag are getting worked from the waves and starting to go belly up! I moved my way into the keys and out of the wind because I knew if I stayed where I was at any longer the little dudes would all die. Headed to the keys and saw Uncle Matt and Jerbs. Jerbs was looking a little under the weather too. (He arose hungover and puked before we even launched. Nice.) Then guess what, Jerbs falls a sleep on his pontoon. FALLS ASLEEP during a tourney. AWESOME. Fucking Turd! Any ways, it takes me about an hour and a half to make it back to the weigh in location and the amount of water I covered t get there was only about 500 feet. WTF.

Mario comes in with a 16 pound bag. He made it to the rock wall but barely made it back! I scrounged up 12.73 and Jerbs came in with 11, he was asleep most of the tourney. There were some big bags though, one guy was culling 4 pounders and wopped up a 27.75 pound bag backed with a 8 point something big fish.

So Now I’m Deterined to score a livewell. We headed to WAL-MART and I got all the shit. A tub, an aerator, some dude hooked up some Rejuvenate and I had the kick boat set. Crate on the side, rod holders, man it was hooked up an ready……then all hell broke loose.

Day 2

So we have to launch off of Island Drive for day two. Mario and I talk about it and we know we can get a good bag at the rock wall. The wind has been howling all night(and all weekend) and it let up during launch. I was thinking we were going to have a nice day. Well we decide to trek to the rock wall. My new set up is cruisin’ No problem at all crossing the lake, I’m thinking today is going to be the shit. Now as I get to the point we have to go around to get to the rock wall, the dreaded wind starts to come up. I miss a couple of frog fish at the point and I know they will be biting there but I have to get to the rock wall. Mario is already there and right then I think,”Now if I go that way and the wind comes up, it’ll be tough to get back. But there’s some quality fish there. But if I stay here and the wind comes up, it’ll be smooth sailing back to the keys. I can’t ditch Mario. Turdz got to stick together.” Well that was a bad decision.(But then if I wasn’t there, Mario would have been super screwed) By the time I get to the rock wall, we’re fighting 2-3 footers and the wind is kicking. My anchor won’t grab but I’m catching fish, unbutton a three pounder 2nd cast and land one on the fourth cast. I’m thinking awesome, I’m going to get at least a fifteen pound bag, at least! Then the wind starts howling. Like the fishing gods were like, “Fuck you, you ain’t getting shit Mario.” 2-3 footers turn into 3-4 footers and the wind is KICKING!! I know I need to bail back to the point and as I try to row back, two pumps with my oars and then SNAP! My fucking oar lock breaks. I scream to Mario,”MY FUCKING OAR LOCK BROKE, I’M FUCKED!!” But he can’t hear me from all of the wind and waves crashing on the rocks. I try to stay calm because these 3-4 foot waves are crashing against the rocks 50 feet from me and all I can do is kick. As soon as I stop kicking, the wind and waves push me closer to the rocks. I got to think fast. I look left, rocks, I look right and I see Mario grabbing for his drop shot rod that just fell into the water. But there is a beach about 200 yards right of the rock wall. Luckily I kick myself over there and I pass by Mario who is struggling to stay anchored. I wanted to tell him that he should come with me because there was no way in hell he was going to make it back. No way in hell.

Well, I make it to the beach and let the wind drift me in. Then the smell arises, every dead fish and dead bird in Clear Lake washes up against this beach. Then I see dead fish all around me. It was a dead fish swamp I had to go through to beach onto even more dead fish. As I beach, dead fish water splashes all over me, my gear, and into my lunchbag. Can it get any worse. Yes. I look up at Mario and he’s rocking these four footers, I’m thinking I hope he decides to head back. Well, I’m done, I know my only option is to get rescued. Fucking rescued on Clear Lake in my kick boat. Awesome.

I head to the top of a hill and call Matt. Luckily, he picks up. He had just gotten off of the phone with his dad and was looking out at the water thinking if those guys went out there, they’re fucked. Well he was right. “Matt, I’m stuck at the rock wall, I had to beach, we’re fucked……..”, then my phone dies. No more batteries. I look into the sky and scream “WHAT THE FUCK!??!” and throw up a middle finger.

Well time to trek to one of those houses over there. It was like walking into a scary movie man. Rotted signs, dead trees and a barn that looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in years. Now when I get to a part where I can see where Mario WAS…he’s gone. I see a boat taking off and I’m thinking that he has to be in that boat because he’s no where to be seen. Then from where mario is pointing in this photo, I see his fish cat 9 smashing up against the rocks and I see no Mario! I run full speed back to the rocks, dying from smoking like a train all weekend. When I get closer, I’m thinking nothing but bad things. “MAS! MAS!” I kept yelling and then I see him. Oh shit, he’s okay but his pontoon is getting rocked. We get all of his shit out of hell and can’t help but look at each other and laugh. What can you do?

Now we trek to a house that’s about 3/4 of a mile away. A lady is home at one of the houses and calls the fire dept because we are in the cuts and that was are only option. Matt wasn’t picking up his phone and we had no else to call. Meanwhile all of our shit is along some wind blown dead fish bank. So we get a fireman to drive their utility truck from Clear Lake Oaks and they say they’ll be there in 20 minutes. At that moment, I think, what if Matty finds us. Well, while we are waiting near our shit on some dirt road, who comes rolling up behing us. Fucking UNCLE MATT!! SAVES US AGAIN!! How he found us, I don’t know but he did. Well, we’re DQ’ed for the assistance. At least we we’re okay and none of the Turdz got hurt(Sorry Turd haters, maybe another day). Our morale was beat to shit but a beer and a toke easily fixed that.

So Jerbs had a similar experience but got back safely and scored small bag. A lot of people were coming in short due to fatigue from the wretched wind.

Well, Clear Lake beat us up. Beat us the fuck up. I’m so thankful Matt hooked us up. He’s the fucking Man and deserves a big mama Toad for that one. He is a true homey and how many can say they have a homey that’ll drive to Clear Lake at 12 midnight to bring shit that you forgot in San Jose.

Thanks Mitch and the other Bass-N-Tubes dudes. You guys got a good thing going. All the people are cool, except…well…I’m going to keep my mouth shut.

So next time:
~Don’t forget my shit.
~Bring extra oar locks
~Don’t eat weed brownies at 10 when you have to wake up at 4
~Don’t let people cut in front of you at coffee shops
~Don’t Drag a lobster net around during a kickboat tournament
~A fish is not worth your risking your safety

Fuck you Clear Lake. I’ll be back soon.