richg99
Well-known member
Late yesterday afternoon, even though I had been fishing for 5 hours with a local guide in the early morning...I decided that I just HAD to go fishing (again).
These things happen when the boat is 15 minutes away; the launch is 200 yards from the boat, and your wife is away for the day. Additional emphasis was added by our guided trip resulting in only one 2 lb. LM bass!
I texted my brother-in-law and he was game. He met me at the launch a half hour later, and we dropped my 1648 side-console Lowe into Lake Dartmoor in Eastern Tennessee.
Lately, I've been doing a lot of trolling. In fact, earlier in the week, a TinBoat's guy (EastTNTroller) was kind enough to share his extensive knowledge of the art of trolling with me. My new-found trolling ( first time I've done that in 60 + years of fishing) has produced a few nice LM bass catches. My little 50 hp motor just seems to putt-putt along and hasn't carboned up yet.
Off we went, with gray and getting grayer skies, blowing in from the Northwest. We planned on fishing for an hour or so, unless the bass were jumping into the boat. Since that never happens, I expected to be off the water before total darkness.
We trolled down about half of this small lake with nary a bump. That is, unless you count the reefs that banged our deep-diving crank baits. The lake varies from 8 or 9 feet to 55 feet deep. Some of the changes occur rapidly, and I have learned to swing the boat in and out from the shoreline to anticipate the shallow areas. I haven't yet learned all of the variances. With nothing to show for our trolling, we started working the boat docks; small cuts, and one or two rare weed beds. Deep, rock-filled reservoirs do not generate many weed beds.
After the better part of an hour, my BIL noticed the wind picking up, followed by some sprinkles. There has been so much rain in this part of Tennessee this year, that I have started calling our daily showers "Mountain Dew". I must have heard that someplace since it has a nice ring to it.
We pointed the Lowe in the direction of home, and dropped our lines over the side. Might as well troll, since this is a no-wake lake and you can't go any faster than a quick trolling speed, anyhow.
Fifteen minutes later, when we had reached the halfway point, my motor simply stopped. It had been running so very well, that I was immediately puzzled. I did think to grab the gas tank, and low and behold, it was very light. So very light because your writer had RUN OUT OF GAS. Now, I've been running boats of one sort or another for five decades. I had NEVER before run out of gas. When I ran Galveston bay, I checked the tank constantly, before, during and after I hit the dock. Last summer, I barely used one tank of gas on this little lake.
Ahhhh ha! it was the trolling that I've put my little 50 hp Johnson through that burned off my full tank! Never did I think that I could run out. I had added gas just a week or two before. Of course, I could think of numerous nefarious ways that gas might have been stolen. The boat and tank are left fully exposed in the far reaches of the open boat lot. But, in truth, I could blame no one but myself. Even though I religiously use a check-list, the item that said "enough gas?" hadn't been properly executed in a week or two.
Oh well, the wind was at our back; the rain sprinkles had dissipated, and my trolling motor battery had been charged just the day before. Moving along slowly, the docks ahead gradually came into view. Just about that time, my rod bounced twice. I thought I'd picked up a snag, as the bottom contour had shallowed out. I'd kept the boat on a direct line home, and didn't try to avoid the rocky bottom. Once again the rod stopped. This time I knew it was a fish, She came back a third time and took the lure. A quick fight brought her to the net. Not a big bass, but she was a bit larger than the 5 hour earlier guided trip had produced.
Reaching the launch, we dragged the powerless boat onto the trailer and left it in the middle of the boat yard parking lot. It was pitch dark. I could come back in the morning to add fuel and put her away properly.
Arriving the next morning, I gassed up, and started to put the tinny back into its slot in the rear of the boat yard. That is when I noticed that one of my trailer bunks had folded over and collapsed under my treasured tin boat.
After replacing the stern plug, I dropped her into the lake. The best place to work on the trailer was at home, so I hauled her there. Off to the hardware store ( the only place open with-out a 16-mile round trip) to pick up two 8 foot 2x4s. Over the next two hours, in between rain showers, I re-did the bunks. A few months ago, I added some PVC strips over the carpet on the bunks. Since the carpet no longer served any function, I was able to discard it from the project. That speeded things up, and, other than waiting for the paint to dry on the 2x4's, I was able to finish rapidly.
So, over one long evening and most of the next morning, my boat gained gas; new bunks, and a very wet and tired owner.
regards, richg99
These things happen when the boat is 15 minutes away; the launch is 200 yards from the boat, and your wife is away for the day. Additional emphasis was added by our guided trip resulting in only one 2 lb. LM bass!
I texted my brother-in-law and he was game. He met me at the launch a half hour later, and we dropped my 1648 side-console Lowe into Lake Dartmoor in Eastern Tennessee.
Lately, I've been doing a lot of trolling. In fact, earlier in the week, a TinBoat's guy (EastTNTroller) was kind enough to share his extensive knowledge of the art of trolling with me. My new-found trolling ( first time I've done that in 60 + years of fishing) has produced a few nice LM bass catches. My little 50 hp motor just seems to putt-putt along and hasn't carboned up yet.
Off we went, with gray and getting grayer skies, blowing in from the Northwest. We planned on fishing for an hour or so, unless the bass were jumping into the boat. Since that never happens, I expected to be off the water before total darkness.
We trolled down about half of this small lake with nary a bump. That is, unless you count the reefs that banged our deep-diving crank baits. The lake varies from 8 or 9 feet to 55 feet deep. Some of the changes occur rapidly, and I have learned to swing the boat in and out from the shoreline to anticipate the shallow areas. I haven't yet learned all of the variances. With nothing to show for our trolling, we started working the boat docks; small cuts, and one or two rare weed beds. Deep, rock-filled reservoirs do not generate many weed beds.
After the better part of an hour, my BIL noticed the wind picking up, followed by some sprinkles. There has been so much rain in this part of Tennessee this year, that I have started calling our daily showers "Mountain Dew". I must have heard that someplace since it has a nice ring to it.
We pointed the Lowe in the direction of home, and dropped our lines over the side. Might as well troll, since this is a no-wake lake and you can't go any faster than a quick trolling speed, anyhow.
Fifteen minutes later, when we had reached the halfway point, my motor simply stopped. It had been running so very well, that I was immediately puzzled. I did think to grab the gas tank, and low and behold, it was very light. So very light because your writer had RUN OUT OF GAS. Now, I've been running boats of one sort or another for five decades. I had NEVER before run out of gas. When I ran Galveston bay, I checked the tank constantly, before, during and after I hit the dock. Last summer, I barely used one tank of gas on this little lake.
Ahhhh ha! it was the trolling that I've put my little 50 hp Johnson through that burned off my full tank! Never did I think that I could run out. I had added gas just a week or two before. Of course, I could think of numerous nefarious ways that gas might have been stolen. The boat and tank are left fully exposed in the far reaches of the open boat lot. But, in truth, I could blame no one but myself. Even though I religiously use a check-list, the item that said "enough gas?" hadn't been properly executed in a week or two.
Oh well, the wind was at our back; the rain sprinkles had dissipated, and my trolling motor battery had been charged just the day before. Moving along slowly, the docks ahead gradually came into view. Just about that time, my rod bounced twice. I thought I'd picked up a snag, as the bottom contour had shallowed out. I'd kept the boat on a direct line home, and didn't try to avoid the rocky bottom. Once again the rod stopped. This time I knew it was a fish, She came back a third time and took the lure. A quick fight brought her to the net. Not a big bass, but she was a bit larger than the 5 hour earlier guided trip had produced.
Reaching the launch, we dragged the powerless boat onto the trailer and left it in the middle of the boat yard parking lot. It was pitch dark. I could come back in the morning to add fuel and put her away properly.
Arriving the next morning, I gassed up, and started to put the tinny back into its slot in the rear of the boat yard. That is when I noticed that one of my trailer bunks had folded over and collapsed under my treasured tin boat.
After replacing the stern plug, I dropped her into the lake. The best place to work on the trailer was at home, so I hauled her there. Off to the hardware store ( the only place open with-out a 16-mile round trip) to pick up two 8 foot 2x4s. Over the next two hours, in between rain showers, I re-did the bunks. A few months ago, I added some PVC strips over the carpet on the bunks. Since the carpet no longer served any function, I was able to discard it from the project. That speeded things up, and, other than waiting for the paint to dry on the 2x4's, I was able to finish rapidly.
So, over one long evening and most of the next morning, my boat gained gas; new bunks, and a very wet and tired owner.
regards, richg99
