Since most of us here on this forum have spent a great deal of time outdoors there’s little doubt we’ve all have at least one uncomfortable experience with electrical storms and lightning. I’ve personally had my wits frazzled a few times by sudden flashes of ultra bright light and the ensuing “crack”, “rumble” and “roar”. However, one time while fishing, an electrical storm seemed to actually form above my buddy and me causing some pretty weird things to happen.
One overcast day in June, 1980, James Johnson and I ventured out on to Lake Whitney which is located about a hundred miles south of Fort Worth. We had hopes of catching a big striper or two. At that time, Lake Whitney was known for producing some of these feisty boogers that weighed over 35 pounds.
After launching my little 16 ft boat, we headed for the Brazos River channel where the water depth drops, from the lake’s average depth of 25 feet, to over 80 feet. The fish had a habit of staying down in the river channel and, from time to time, came up to feed at edge of the drop-off.
When we got close to the area where we wanted to fish I turned off the 115 hp. Johnson motor. James then took control of the boat using the electric trolling motor. When the first group of fish appeared on the depth finder James turned the electric motor off and the boat slowly drifted while we baited our hooks with pumpkin seed perch. We were using two identical rigs: they were both seven foot fiberglass rods fitted with steel Garcia reels that were wound with 17 pound test mono line. We then let our one ounce weights carry our baited lines to the bottom.
The air grew heavy and still. Thick black clouds dropped to within a hundred feet of the surface of the lake and churned above us. The atmospheric pressure was extremely low and allowed the fishy damp odors to escape from the lake.
As we drifted slowly in the direction of our lines I reached into the ice chest for a beer. That’s when James said, “Dennis, look at your line”.
I quickly looked up and saw that instead of the floating on the top of the water, the slack line was rising up into the air. James stopped reeling in the loose line from his reel and it also began to rise toward the low clouds. We looked at each other and laughed.
I asked James, “What in the world is going on man?”
Before he could answer my reel started making slow clicking sounds about as loud as chop sticks being broken in half. The volume and rapidity of the clicks increased and James’ reel started to do the same thing. We gave each a puzzled look as our lines appeared to be nearly touching the dark ceiling that hung above us and the reels got louder and louder.
I hollered above the noise to James “Reel in and let’s get out of here before we get struck by lightning”.
I started the big motor and headed away from the spot as quickly as possible. Not 30 seconds later we saw a bright flash and heard a loud explosion behind us. We turned around and saw a juniper tree smoldering from a lightning strike. The tree was on the side of a cliff on the opposite side of the channel or about 100 feet from spot we had just vacated.
We headed for the boat ramp and got the boat loaded on the trailer during a downpour. When we made it to higher ground we stopped to talk about what had just happened. We decided that an electrical charge was building in the dark cloud that was above us and the static electricity was drawing the line upward. The clicking sound was a charge that traveled down the fiberglass rods and into the reels where it began to start arching between the ball bearings.
That was enough for the day and we headed to the lake house where we drank beer and talked about how lucky we were not to have been killed or hurt.
