Big Bass By Starlight
Keep on Fishing At Night to Catch the Biggest Bass
 Editor’s
Note: “If you can get that Phillips’ fellow
to fish with me for three days and three nights, I’ll
put a bass in the boat 10 pounds or bigger,” the
late L.J.Brasher of Opelika, Alabama, told a friend
of mine, Joe Price of Birmingham Alabama. Now that is
a big boast for even the nation’s best anglers.
And I had never heard of L.J. Brasher nor had many other
folks. But Brasher’s boast was not an idle challenge.
Brasher, like Dizzy  Dean,
felt, “If you’ve done it, then it ain’t
bragging.” And Brasher had done it. Each weekend
during the spring and summer for years, he traveled
to ponds and lakes around Madison, Florida, and caught
big bass. In one year alone, he took over 80 bass that
each tipped the scales at 10 pounds or better. So, I
decided to fish with Brasher to learn his tactics.
I had fished all night and all day, and now it was
11:00 pm on the second night. We hadn’t gotten
out of the boat in 28 hours. My bottom was sore, and
my back was aching from staying crammed in the little
16-foot aluminum boat. My arms and shoulders throbbed
from casting the big muskie rod with the giant black
Muskie Jitterbug at the end of the 55-pound-braided
nylon line. All day long I had baked in the Florida
sun, and  now
with the dew falling I began to shiver. We had caught
no bass. We had not even had a fish roll at our baits.
“I’ve had just about all this fun I can
stand,” I told Brasher. “I’m going
to take a nap.” “You better keep on fishing,
boy. We’ll get a big one here in a minute,”
Brasher answered. But Brasher had been saying the same
thing for the night and day before, and by now his credibility
was fast becoming questionable. “I’m just
going to take a short nap. Then when the fish start
biting, I’ll be ready,” I lied as I curled
up in the bottom of the boat. My stomach growled, reminding
me of the only food I had had since this adventure had
started - Beanie Weenies. As visions of steak, a warm
bed and a place far away from my boat-bottom bed invaded
my head, I slipped off the sleep.
 Suddenly,
BOOM! “An explosion,” I thought. “Someone’s
throwing boulders at us,” I told myself as I drug
my weary body up from the damp bottom of the boat. “I’ve
got him. Get the net and the light,” Brasher screamed.
I had pre-programmed myself to react instinctively when
Brasher yelled, “I’ve got him.” Brasher
had told me at least 100 times each night, “When
I tell you I’ve got him, you grab the Q-Beam spotlight,
turn it on and point it at the bass. With your other
hand put the dip net in the water perpendicular to the
boat. I’ll drag the bass into the net, then all
you’ll have to do is lift up.” As the light
pierced the inky-black shroud of darkness surrounding
us, I saw a sight I will never forget. Twenty yards
from the boat, a giant bass was skidding across the
top of the water, His head was held high as his body
slid rapidly across the surface. I looked at Brasher.
He was reeling so fast that the spray coming off the
line seemed to cause the reel to smoke. When I looked
down, the bass was in the net. “Put him in the
boat, boy. Put him in the boat,” Brasher said
as I decided he could back up one of the biggest brags
I ever had heard in all my years fishing.
Tomorrow: The Brag
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