Years ago, a grizzled Eastern pro with little experience on desert lakes begrudgingly made his way to Lake Mead for the first time. He launched his boat, ran to another marina and was confronted with what he surely thought was a mirage.
Swimming beneath his boat, in 20 to 30 feet of water, was a monstrous school of bass. He hadn’t yet turned on his electronics, and to be honest, he didn’t really need them. Even yet-to-be-invented side imaging couldn’t draw a clearer picture than what he saw with his own eyes — the winning spot.
Unfortunately, after fishing for them for hours, he hadn’t been able to turn a single head, let alone get a bite. He left, dejected. Returning to the ramp that evening, still not sure what he’d seen, or what he’d done wrong, he told the story to a local angler. “You were fishing for those sucker fish,” the local said, smirking.
“I’m positive they were bass,” the pro said. “Even that deep, I could still see their markings.” “No, what I mean is that every sucker who comes in from out of town sees them almost immediately, and then wastes half their practice trying to convince those clear-water fish to bite. They almost always fail.” The word “almost” is critical in that last sentence, because while fish that can see you before you see them are often quite finicky, once you’ve found them, they’re not altogether impossible to tempt. Just ask Arizona pro Josh Bertrand and Michigan stick Chad Pipkens. Gin-clear water doesn’t scare them, and it shouldn’t always send you running for the river, either.
