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Great question - brings up a fond memory. Around 1969 or so I was eleven and living pretty much a Huck Finn-like existence on Bass River mostly in a small red plywood rowboat I went everywhere in. I had heard and read about bass but never seen one. One day we were goofing around the town dock by the bridge and my eye caught something in the water up by Shamrock Point. It was like "boom" everything I'd committed to memory came together. It was fish breaking the surface. I grabbed my rod and reel and a couple Rebels I had and rowed up to the edge of the boiling water. You could see them breaking the surface for baitfish. Two casts and something hit-hard. Whatever it was it was bigger than any sea robin or scup I'd hooked previously. Besides the birth of my two girls and my wedding day, I don't suppose I have ever been in a such a state of euphoria and excitement at the same time in my life. I played the fish like I'd been taught and a few minutes later found myself staring down at about 18 inches of a beautiful striped bass. Nothing could compare to the way I felt at that exact moment and no doubt that memory is what keeps me coming back to try for another.
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