Fishing in the Central Valley: It’s not always a good idea to take a seat in a boat

I had some funny adventures during my teenage years fishing in the Central Valley with my father and his angling buddies.

One day out at our turkey ranch I happened to notice in the back of our shop a 2½-foot tall elevated chair that pivoted and had a nice solid base. I hadn’t noticed it before and got to thinking that this might solve a fishing problem I had with our 14-foot Valco aluminum boat. Every time my dad, his fishing buddy Cal and I fished a pond, I had to squeeze into the most forward part of the boat and sit on the forward bench seat. Since I was right behind the bow, the boat front got very small and I had to try to fit into a little triangle of space, where I was now stuck. I hated it because I couldn’t move, and both guys behind me in the much wider part of the vessel had total freedom.

I figured that I could use this chair to get myself above the front bunk and I could pivot all around, too.I tested the chair at home in the boat, the base fit perfectly in the front and it seemed solid.

I was proud of myself, I had used a little ingenuity and was in business. Now I could fish.

A couple days later we headed for the small foothill lake that was about three-quarter of a mile long. It had a bunch of hungry big bass in it, and it was early summer — a good time to fish.

We loaded into the boat and I stuck the chair into the front. I cautiously positioned myself in the seat about 2 feet above the lower bunk where I usually sat.

I had to carefully balance myself to avoid being top heavy but I was determined to make this work. My dad and Cal thought it was a decent idea as long as I stayed centered. Off we went, with me in the front of the boat looking like a king on his throne.

We had fished for about an hour and had gone back into a medium-sized cove where the shore was surrounded by weeds when my dad set his hook and a big bass in the 4- to 5-pound range came flying out of the water on our left. We were about 30 yards from shore as the fight began.

The bass continued to make jump after jump, getting nearer and nearer the boat, as my dad and Cal start crowding near the left rear of the boat to try to net the rambunctious fish. Yikes! As each of them together kept inching closer to the gunwale, I was having to try to counterbalance the entire boat by leaning the opposite way to the right.

I was yelling at them that the side of the boat near them was getting closer to the water every second, but they were focused on the big bass that was just out of reach.

When they netted the fish, of course they quickly moved all their weight back to the center of the boat while holding the bass up in the net.

It happened too quickly and my weight was still hanging over the side. I had no chance.

I was suddenly airborne and did a backflip into the water.

The chair followed, bonking me on the head. I broke the surface sputtering, but now my tackle box and rod were also on top of me. I had inadvertently brought just about all my stuff piled around me in the front overboard with me.

My dad and Cal just laughed at me.

My tacklebox was floating and they grabbed it. The chair had sunk to the bottom and my pole had slowly gone down before I could get it. The water where we were was about 20 feet deep when we probed it later with our anchor.

I finished the day with an extra pole, but my new pole and reel were somewhere in the cove covered by aquatic weeds.

About two weeks later, we revisited the little lake and my dad had fitted several 10-foot-long, three-quarters-inch diameter aluminum tubes together and then tipped the assembly with a grappling hook. I’m hanging onto the very end of the now 20-foot tube — just barely reaching the bottom in the middle of the good-sized cove — when I felt a tick.

I pull up and see my pole tip breaking the surface of the water. I had gotten my new outfit back.

I cleaned off all the weeds, checked the rod/reel and started fishing with it. I got a nice 3-pounder later. That’s a real turnaround. Used it for years, too.

That experience as a teen taught me that you may fall overboard, but never give up!

Roger George: rogergeorge8@protonmail.com, Rogergeorgeguideservice on Facebook and @StriperWars