It was late one afternoon maybe late May maybe early June.

The late Mickey Pope and I had rented a room at Edgar Evins State Park and since Mickey owned part of a restaurant he had brought two huge t-bone steaks.

It was our plan to have supper and sleep until midnight and then to go out fishing on Center Hill.

We ate a sumptuous meal and lay down for a nap and about midnight.

After two or three tries I got the boat backed up and we started on the bluff bank on the right hand side coming out of Cove Hollow.

I started out throwing a 1/8-ounce black Bumble Bee spinner bait.

It was a full or nearly full moon -- this was before Stan Sloan (no relation), invented the modern black light.

On this bank in about four feet of water was a huge log and for an hour we sat there and every other cast we caught a fish.

Just at dawn we pulled up on the bluff in front of Holmes Creek.

I had tied on a black and silver Baby Zara Spook and Mickey was throwing a black and white jitterbug and we got into the Kentuckies.

By good sunup we had a live well full of lunch.

After cleaning fish and frying up a good meal we decided a nap was in order and then the idea came to us that maybe we should drive to Dale Hollow and fish that night.

But to make it more interesting I called Harold Dodson and told him our plan. He showed up with his big boat so after a couple of adult beverages and 45 minutes we show up at Dale Hollow.

The moon was just coming up. We started out in a cove and we were kinda enjoying ourselves even though we were not catching anything.

We went to a point in front of a campground and all of a sudden it was one fish after another.

Just at dawn we pulled onto a flat at some creek, whose name I cannot remember, and got into the jumps. It was nonstop action until the sun came up.

Back at Edgar Evins we had a breakfast of fried fish, fried eggs, hash brown potatoes, sliced homegrown tomatoes and biscuits. And then by common agreement we agreed it was nap time.

At that time Harold was a high executive with an insurance company and Mickey owned a large portion of Belle Meade Buffet and since I was an outdoor writer and basically unemployed we decided to stay another day.

Harold had stopped by a market in Hendersonville and had brought three huge ribeye steaks.

This was many years ago either the end of May or early in June.

I cannot remember many times I have enjoyed more with two good friends who have now moved on.

It was not just the fishing, it was the camaraderie, companionship and good food that we shared.

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