Reservation Number : 46518
Property Name : The Bluffs of Sandy Shores
Reservation Date : 05/30/2026 All Day -
Total Fish/Sizes : 75
Lures Used : Senkos, top water frogs, swimbaits and under spins

The lake greeted us at sunrise with the kind of conditions bass fishermen dream about this time of year—72-degree morning air, 81-degree surface temperatures, and a southwest wind that barely rippled the water. By the end of the day, though, the Texas heat would climb to 92 degrees, the wind would howl through the quarry and turn a memorable trip into something closer to an endurance test.

What started as a promising morning quickly became one of those rare days fishermen talk about for years.

From first light, fish were aggressive and feeding hard. Fishing partner and coworker Dave Thompson had two in the boat before I even made my first cast.  By lunch, we had boated 73 bass, and it was becoming obvious that this wasn’t an ordinary summer bite. Nearly every productive stretch seemed capable of producing another quality fish.

The action centered almost entirely in the far southeast corner of the lake. At one point, Dave was reeling in a fish of his own while I made what could only be described as a throwaway cast — no real target, just firing toward the edge of a grass line more out of habit than intention.  The Senko landed on the corner of a grass patch as I was manspaining something unimportant and barely paying attention when the bait simply disappeared.

The water erupted in a four-foot wide boil and I leaned back hard. Instantly I knew this wasn’t just another fish in the rotation.  It didn't move like I plucked a log but it was vibrating violently.

“This is a dude,” I said.  “Oh my this is a Duuuddde."

“It’s at least a six!” Dave yelled as the fish surged directly toward the boat.

I reeled frantically trying to catch up before the slack tightened. The moment it did, the fish turned and bulldozed toward the back of the boat.  

“No… it's a seven!” He announced.

Then it rolled left, shot back parallel to the boat, and kept digging.

“Oh my God… that’s at least an eight!”

At that point the nerves really set in. The fish made another long circle and headed straight past the back of the boat again and I had no choice but to switch sides and try to turn its head before it buried itself in grass or threw the hook.

For a second it just held there long enough in front of Dave to slide the net underneath and lift.

He looked at me and said quietly, “That might be a ten.” as we erupted in high fives, hugs, hopping and thirteen year old girl squeals.  It was glorious!  The fish ultimately weighed 9.6 pounds — a true hawg by any standard and my personal best.  It was the kind of bass that can define an entire season, if not a lifetime.

After taking a two-hour break during the midday heat, we headed back onto the water. The fishing slowed but stayed remarkably consistent through the afternoon and evening hours.

Of course, no truly memorable fishing trip comes without a little adversity.  Somewhere during the chaos, one fishing rod was broken while another ended up in the lake and required an impromptu retrieval operation. Two electronic fish scales had dead batteries.  I used my analog backup for the weights.  Trolling motor had a wad of fishing line caught around it and more around the shaft.  Two batteries failed during the afternoon heat, forcing emergency rewiring using a couple of batteries that fortunately just happened to be in the truck. Add in one cut hand from removing the prop, two completely gnarled bass thumbs, a sunburned knee, and the day began to feel more like a survival story than a fishing trip.

I have always appreciated Steve Rinella of Meateater fame’s description of “high grade fun” versus “low grade fun.” Low grade fun is easy. Comfortable. Entertaining in the moment, but forgettable shortly afterward. High grade fun is different. It usually involves discomfort, setbacks, exhaustion, frustration, or occasionally even a little blood. At the time, you may question why you’re doing it at all. But years later, those are the experiences you remember most clearly.  What Rinella never really talks about is the rare day when you somehow get both at the same time.  That was this day.

The kind of day where you catch so many fish that you lose count, yet also spend part of the afternoon testing your resilience while elbow-deep in repairs. Still, those are often the adventures that stick with you the longest—the ones where the weather wears you down, equipment fails and everything hurts by the end of the day, yet somehow it's just better.

Maybe that’s what happens when low grade fun and high grade fun collide. You get a day that is wildly enjoyable in the moment, but somehow also leaves a permanent mark.  

Some days you simply catch a fish.  Other days remind you why you keep coming back.

Dave added a solid 6.5-pounder of his own. Along with the giants, we landed seven 4-pounders, nine 3-pounders, and eventually lost count of the 2-pounders entirely.  There were five doubles. 117 total bass.  

Thank you Dave and PWF.

John