A LOOK BACK AT THE BRONZEBACKS AND ANGLERS THAT MADE THIS LAKE LEGENDARY By Tim Tipton Straddling the border of Kentucky and Tennessee near the Cumberland Plateau, lies a body of water known for producing renowned smallmouth and legendary anglers. Dale Hollow Lake was created in 1943 when the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers built a dam on the Obey River in Celina, TN. The Obey, which empties into the Cumberland, and its largest tributary the Wolf River, were both quality smallmouth rivers before the impoundment. After the reservoir started to fill, the habitat and the quality genetics created a perfect storm. A storm that would catapult the lake into the record books. The reservoir has not only produced the world record smallmouth, but it also has numbers two and three on the list. In fact, the lake is home to 10 of the 25 largest bronzebacks on record. THE WORLD RECORD David L. Hayes is a quiet, unassuming man who loved to fish and was not interested in fame. The Leitchfield, KY ...
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Memories
© Tim Tipton 2021 The author, and his wife Jennifer, enjoying some time around Abrams Creek, in Great Smoky Mountains National Park. “Fishing and hunting trips are not singular episodes. Instead, they are like chapters in a book. One chapter does not tell the entire story. These trips add up to one long adventure. If they were predictable, there would be no reason to go,” --Tim Tipton, Outdoor Sage and Amateur Philosopher. Beginnings Unlike many longtime anglers, I can’t recall the first fish I caught. I have my suspicions about it, but no solid memories float up to my frequently forgetful brain. I have two excuses I often trot out for this short circuitry in my cranial matter. I spent 16 years getting hit in the head, as an amateur and professional boxer; Also, my brain, like the rest of me, is now solidly in its mid-50’s. My wife, whom I’ve been married to for 31 years, says my long-term memory is surprisingly go...
A Guiding Light By Tim Tipton I was halfway across Illinois when I asked myself “Are you sure you want to do this?” I had been on the road alone for roughly five hours and was starting to feel some trepidation. I was traveling by car from my Shepherdsville, KY home, to Fort Smith Montana to chase a nearly 20-year dream, but now I was having second thoughts. It would be a long, lonely two-day drive, at the end of it would be the Big Horn Angler Lodge and Fly Shop near the famous trout river of the same name, and a week of learning the ins and outs of being a fly fishing guide. Allow me to backtrack to the mid-90’s. I was a married father of two young children, working as a sports editor for a small-town newspaper, taking a few college courses, trying to make a few dollars as a freelance writer and punishing my liver each day for some unknown crime. I had just officially “retired” from a mediocre career as a professional boxer, in which I took way too many punches, for way to...

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