08-04-2011, 02:42 PM
the old zebco 202 I started out with some 40+ years ago, I was able to put 70 pound test line on it. "it is only rated for 8 pound, "Ya, I was a dumb kid but willing to try anything."
I even pulled in a 50 inch stergeon with it from out on the st clair river.
The line held up, I had no problems with twisting, I was taught by my dad from the vary beginning to always use swivel snaps.
My zebco combo also had a solid fiberglass rod. Tough as nails.
I had battled many a bruit with that rig for nearly 10 years. I finaly broke the rod battling a 28 inch Large mouth bass in a privet pond. I had fought with that fish off and on for many a summer in my youth, every time I had been bested by him. He always snapped my line. This was why I had gone with the 70 pound test in the first place. I realy wanted that catch.
the last time I fought him I tightened down the drag, and made him bend my pole over double. we stayed hooked up like that for what seemed a good half hour.
When finaly it snapped right at the metal cupling, and all the tork was now on the reel. That poor zebco screamed bloody murder as that bass stripped the 70lb line from its spool, Ping Ping Ping and the reel rang out till that bass made its way over to the brush pile where he had tangled many an angler for years on end.
I grabed a stick and rapped the line around the stick and preceeded to drag him in, I figured he was mine now. So I played tugawar holding constant preasure while walking backwards. The line sang in the wind like some eiry harp for several minuts, I could see the bass on top the water and the line just a half loop over the willow limb.
Push come to shove, I figured it is now just a waiting game, that bass was going to give up eventualy and alow himself to flop over the limb. It was then my poor under rated swivle snap bent open and the line flung back at me like a rubber band and the swivel hit my hand.
so now I stood there dumb founded, a broken rod, a stripped reel a stung hand and a stupified look on my face as I looked at that bass swiming around the limb with my black jitter bug still in his mouth.
I sat down there next to shore contemplating what had just happened staring at that bass as he slowly slipped back in to the deap. 20 minutes when by and I had not moved from my spot, my fishing buds said they had a spare rod at the house I could use, but I sat there staring in to the pond...
conciderable more time had passed tho I had no idea of how much because I had lost track of every thing as I stared in to the pond. Then from out of the deep to 3 feet in the air that bass jumped, flinging his head back and forth dislodging my bug from his mouth to send it flying twards me landing at the waters edge in front of my feet.
Landing back in the water he swam twards me, stopped and turned sidways to me and stood there. A good cople minutes went by as I looked back and forth from my bug to that Bass before I busted out laughing.
many a year had he taken lures from me. But this was the first time he ever gave one back, Many a year had I tried to catch him to put on my dinner plate. I must have loggen a good couple thousand hours over the years chacin after him.
I had given him all I had, Given him my best shot, I finaly realized that some fish are just not ment to be caught.
As he staried at me I got up and picked up my bug from the waters edge, and I said to him between chuckles, "You Win" then he turn his tail twards me and with a cople slow paddles of his tail he was back in to the deep. I never tried to catch him again after that. He had earned my respect and admiration.
You are probably wondering how I knew his size seeing as to how I never managed to land him. It was two years later when we ended up with a sivear winter freeze, Ice thickness reached 5 feet around us, in in shallow small ponds that is devistating for fish. I walked back to that pond to see if I could see him swiming in the pond, I was not sure if he had managed to survive. I walked around the pond looking in. Then I spotted him, laying on shore off the waters edge, he must had froze in the ice and washed up floating over the edge just as the snow and ice melted and the ground started excepting the melt off.
I pulled out my tape and measured him just so I would know how big he was. At the time of my finding him on shore, he was 30 inches in lenth and 36 in girth. I figured he must have grown a couple inches since I last fought with him, that is why I gave a measurment of 28 inches.
I thought about picking him up and bringing him back home with me, I thought about all the fish tails I could spin, Then I decided that the truth was a big enuff story. So I left him there on shore and told the story of how I found him. Sure enough some one went back there and picked him up. Any tails of how any one caught him was forfitured because I had already told of his dimise.
There is a moral to this story,
Never put line on your rod and reel combo that it is not rated for.
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I even pulled in a 50 inch stergeon with it from out on the st clair river.
The line held up, I had no problems with twisting, I was taught by my dad from the vary beginning to always use swivel snaps.
My zebco combo also had a solid fiberglass rod. Tough as nails.
I had battled many a bruit with that rig for nearly 10 years. I finaly broke the rod battling a 28 inch Large mouth bass in a privet pond. I had fought with that fish off and on for many a summer in my youth, every time I had been bested by him. He always snapped my line. This was why I had gone with the 70 pound test in the first place. I realy wanted that catch.
the last time I fought him I tightened down the drag, and made him bend my pole over double. we stayed hooked up like that for what seemed a good half hour.
When finaly it snapped right at the metal cupling, and all the tork was now on the reel. That poor zebco screamed bloody murder as that bass stripped the 70lb line from its spool, Ping Ping Ping and the reel rang out till that bass made its way over to the brush pile where he had tangled many an angler for years on end.
I grabed a stick and rapped the line around the stick and preceeded to drag him in, I figured he was mine now. So I played tugawar holding constant preasure while walking backwards. The line sang in the wind like some eiry harp for several minuts, I could see the bass on top the water and the line just a half loop over the willow limb.
Push come to shove, I figured it is now just a waiting game, that bass was going to give up eventualy and alow himself to flop over the limb. It was then my poor under rated swivle snap bent open and the line flung back at me like a rubber band and the swivel hit my hand.
so now I stood there dumb founded, a broken rod, a stripped reel a stung hand and a stupified look on my face as I looked at that bass swiming around the limb with my black jitter bug still in his mouth.
I sat down there next to shore contemplating what had just happened staring at that bass as he slowly slipped back in to the deap. 20 minutes when by and I had not moved from my spot, my fishing buds said they had a spare rod at the house I could use, but I sat there staring in to the pond...
conciderable more time had passed tho I had no idea of how much because I had lost track of every thing as I stared in to the pond. Then from out of the deep to 3 feet in the air that bass jumped, flinging his head back and forth dislodging my bug from his mouth to send it flying twards me landing at the waters edge in front of my feet.
Landing back in the water he swam twards me, stopped and turned sidways to me and stood there. A good cople minutes went by as I looked back and forth from my bug to that Bass before I busted out laughing.
many a year had he taken lures from me. But this was the first time he ever gave one back, Many a year had I tried to catch him to put on my dinner plate. I must have loggen a good couple thousand hours over the years chacin after him.
I had given him all I had, Given him my best shot, I finaly realized that some fish are just not ment to be caught.
As he staried at me I got up and picked up my bug from the waters edge, and I said to him between chuckles, "You Win" then he turn his tail twards me and with a cople slow paddles of his tail he was back in to the deep. I never tried to catch him again after that. He had earned my respect and admiration.
You are probably wondering how I knew his size seeing as to how I never managed to land him. It was two years later when we ended up with a sivear winter freeze, Ice thickness reached 5 feet around us, in in shallow small ponds that is devistating for fish. I walked back to that pond to see if I could see him swiming in the pond, I was not sure if he had managed to survive. I walked around the pond looking in. Then I spotted him, laying on shore off the waters edge, he must had froze in the ice and washed up floating over the edge just as the snow and ice melted and the ground started excepting the melt off.
I pulled out my tape and measured him just so I would know how big he was. At the time of my finding him on shore, he was 30 inches in lenth and 36 in girth. I figured he must have grown a couple inches since I last fought with him, that is why I gave a measurment of 28 inches.
I thought about picking him up and bringing him back home with me, I thought about all the fish tails I could spin, Then I decided that the truth was a big enuff story. So I left him there on shore and told the story of how I found him. Sure enough some one went back there and picked him up. Any tails of how any one caught him was forfitured because I had already told of his dimise.
There is a moral to this story,
Never put line on your rod and reel combo that it is not rated for.
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