High hopes for Lake Despair derby

With the fourth-annual “Castin’ for Cash” bass derby coming up this weekend on Lake Despair, I headed out Monday to try my luck with the fish.
Granted, the weather wasn’t great—but if The Weather Network can be trusted, this weekend is supposed to be beautiful.
Some 56 teams have signed up to compete for the top prize of $5,000, with second place being worth $2,500 (up from $2,000 last year), third $1,500 (up from $1,000), fourth $600 (up from $500), and fifth to 10th $400 (up from $300).
The tournament officially begins Saturday when the boats depart at 8 a.m. from Lake Despair Lodge at the end of Highway 613 N.
While the weigh-in doesn’t start until 4 p.m., there will be plenty to do at the lodge in the meantime, including horseshoes, volleyball, and a playground for kids.
As well, the beer gardens open at 1 p.m.
A fish fry will follow the weigh-in at 6 p.m., with entertainment scheduled for later that night.
The derby will wrap up Sunday, with the awards presentation being held after the final weigh-in.
To give me a taste of what the weekend will hold, Lake Despair Lodge owner Bill Godin, who also organizes the derby, took me out on his boat—which practically flew over the water—to a number of spots on the lake.
After the first couple of casts, I was more relaxed than I’d been in weeks. The scenery up there is breathtaking, and on only my third or fourth cast, I was getting bites, so at least I knew there were fish in the lake.
The same fish kept trying to hit the Rapala top-water bait I was using, but couldn’t quite get it. Then again, I was raised to believe that if the fish isn’t big enough to take the bait, then I didn’t want to catch it anyway.
Besides, the day had just started—I had plenty of time to nail the big ones.
Alas, it seems Lady Luck was not on my side. Instead, I watched Bill pull in bass after bass all day. No matter what he threw at them (spinners, crankbait, top-waters, jigs), they bit.
Not for me. I used the same lures as he did, cast in the same spots, but to no avail. I even tried Ernie’s trick from Sesame Street (he would chant “fishy, fishy, fishy, fishy . . .” and they would jump right into his boat).
But the only thing it got me was a strange look from Bill, a chuckle, and a “Sure, sing to them, that will help.”
I did manage to get snagged about a dozen times on everything and anything possible. And I lost two lures.
But despite the sacrifice—no fish.
I’m not sure what I did wrong (I’ve been fishing since I could hold a rod), but I haven’t caught a thing for the last two seasons.
I started by blaming it on the lures I was using, but then Bill would take my “faulty” lure, tie it on to his rod, and in a matter of minutes he’d catch one.
I’d look over at him, in total disbelief, and say, “You have got to be kidding me.” He would look back sheepishly, then pull in yet another two- or three-pound smallmouth.
So then I tried to blame it on him. After all, he was at the front of the boat, he had first crack at the fish, right? But even when I moved to the front, I still emerged empty-handed.
So I’m blaming it on the mayflies. They have been hatching at Lake Despair over the last week-and-a-half or so and, according to Bill, the bass are gorging themselves on them and thus are not as inclined to take the bait.
But he is fairly confident the hatching should be mostly over by this weekend—just in time for the derby.
Despite Bill’s protests of “You’re not leaving until you catch something,” I finally had to admit defeat.
I must have angered the fish gods and now I am cursed. Anglers, be warned! Best to stay away from me in case it’s contagious.
But I will make my peace with the guardians of the bass, and rest assured, I’ll be casting a few off the dock this weekend.
“Oh well, you tried,” Bill said as I left. “That’s why they call it fishing and not catching.”