Double Double Hookup(Gordon England) Double Double Hookup

“Donny, I know where black bass are running,” I said with a teasing voice.
“What do you mean running? Black bass don’t run.”
“Let me take you to my secret bass pond. I’ll show you something you won’t forget.”
“You have me curious now, Gordon. When do we go?”
“I’ll pick you up Saturday morning. No need to go early; they’re biting all day.”
We arrived at a private five-acre bass lake near San Antonio on a June Saturday of 1985. On the bank, we found a friend’s 14-foot skiff. I carefully turned it over after checking for snakes that might be hiding underneath in cool shade. Donny took a 2.5 horsepower motor from my trunk and attached it to the boat’s transom.
I stopped for a few minutes to watch for tell-tale signs of fish action. Numerous ripples with occasional splashes across the lake portended feeding fish. We scrambled into the boat and used oars to push away from a high, grassy shoreline. One easy pull of the starter roped ignited the tiny engine.
“Look over there,” Donny said, pointing to a ten-foot circle of water that appeared to be boiling. I stopped the motor, allowing our boat to drift within casting distance of the circle. At this distance, we watched small fish and minnows thrash on the surface to escape larger fish attacking from below.
“Those are bass chasing minnows,” Donny said. “I’ve seen that on the ocean, but never in freshwater.”
“Same here. Let’s catch some of them.”
We put green and white rattletrap lures on our lines and cast them into the midst of splashing bass. Rattletraps are three-inch hard lures with a large, square lip to force a deep dive. Two double hooks, one forward and one at the tail, ensured few fish escaped a strike.
We cast to different sides of a primordial frenzy and reeled fast to make our lures dive to larger fish waiting in the deep. Donny’s rattletrap received the first blow, bending his light rod almost double. He yelled with delight. A few seconds later, my rod also bent down. We cheered with glee while reeling in a pair of two-pound black bass.
“Wow,” Donny said. “Who would have thought black bass would school like that?”
Noise from our thrashing bass had spooked our school of blacks, driving them into deep water. I started the motor to patrol the lake’s clear, spring-fed water for a while. Cattle and horses grazed on thick green grass in a gentle breeze before severe summer heat set in. A few minutes later, another thrashing boil of bass appeared. Yes, here we went again.
I raced across the water, pulling close to swarming bass. My rattletrap took the first hit when we cast into the frenzy, putting an energetic bend in the rod while pulling line from my reel. Then Donny’s rod arched down with a bass on while boiling fish encircled us.
“Can you believe this?” I said with a laugh.
“I would have said impossible.”
Suddenly, my rod bent more as something jerked the tip underwater.
“What’s that?” Donny asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe I snagged a log.”
“You better sit down before you go swimming.”
Without warning, Donny’s rod slammed onto the gunnel. He lifted hard, but his light rig couldn’t bring in line. We both sat before we went overboard.
“What kind of fish are in this lake?” Donny asked as we struggled to reel in line.
“The usual catfish, bass, and perch.”
“Hmph.”
Five minutes later, we both brought a squirming mass of bass into the boat simultaneously.
“Look at what we caught,” I yelled with glee.
“I can’t believe it,” responded Donny, also laughing. “I caught two fish on one lure.”
“Me too.” My two hooks each had a nice bass. “That’s four bass on two lures. Nobody’s going to believe us, and that will never happen again.”
Knowing people would doubt our story, the attached photo shows our catches.
I will never forget that once-in-a-lifetime catch.

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