“A lake is landscape’s most beautiful and expressive feature. It is Earth’s eye; looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature.” -Henry David Thoreau

Pushing off from shore in the first light of morning, I turned to take in the beauty of the mist rising above the smooth, undisturbed water. Although I had never fished the lake before, it felt familiar to me.

My eyes studied the nearby row of button-willows, and noticing a small swirl in the water, I tossed the black-and-white Tiny Torpedo just underneath the willow branches and waited for the ripples to settle. As I gave the lure a slight twitch, the stillness of the morning was interrupted by a violent explosion of water as a giant largemouth viciously engulfed the bait.

After a back-and-forth battle, I brought the behemoth close enough to the side of the boat for my father-in-law Billy “Pop” Hull to net him, and as I held him in the air, Pop congratulated me on the first trophy bass of the day. As we made our way around fishing the cover of the willows and taking giant largemouths one after another, he began telling me the stories of the lake.

First, he told me about Mr. Walter Coleman, who lived just beside the back of the lake when Pop was a child. Since my recent memory was a little foggy on those details, I asked my neighbor and Pop’s childhood friend Jimmy Jackson about Mr. Walter.

According to Jimmy, most mornings Billy (Pop) would eat at Mr. Walter’s because his mother Frances rarely cooked breakfast. “You could smell the bacon frying on the wood stove when you got close to Walter’s house,” Jimmy said, “He pretty much fed Billy James every day.”

When G and I decided to make a cemetery for our beloved pets not far from the lake a few years ago after we lost our golden retriever Mack, we unearthed several stones that we ended up using as grave markers. Those stones were some of the original stones that formed the foundation for Walter’s house, according to Jimmy and his brother Jeff.

Fishing that day, Pop told me that the upper end of the lake in front of Walter’s house was filled with stumps and lily pads and that the bass were so big that they would often take ducks from the top of the lake. The size of those ducks still remains in question, but thinking about it certainly adds to the aura of the lake, giving it an almost mythical status.

Later that morning, Pop added to that myth and mystery, showing me the spot in the lake where he had tossed his sister’s toe. Yes, you read that correctly. Apparently, her toe had been severed (on accident while playing) by a fan blade, at which point he grabbed it and tossed it into the lake.

I have often wondered what I would do if, upon reeling in after hitting a snag on the bottom, I discovered a phalanx attached to my treble hook instead of a stick. As unlikely as that sounds, I did once snag a rod and reel in the lake that my brother-in-law had lost while fishing several years earlier. I guess a lost toe is not out of the realm of possibility.

The lake has changed a lot since my first fishing trip there with Pop in April of 1993. Much like my own life, there have been highs and lows. At one point, during a particularly dry summer, the lake dropped to an all-time low point and, as a result, we lost most of our fish.

Only the deepest water near the dam remained during that summer. In fact, the lake was so low that you could walk across the middle of it. During that period, our family had rented out the house that sits on the hill above the lake, and the tenants decided to build a pier and deck while the water was low. Clearly, they never anticipated that the lake would ever regain its former water level as that deck is now partially submerged.

In all fairness to the folks that built the deck, the lake has surpassed any former high watermarks. Strangely enough, I use a Sasquatch statue to gauge the water level these days. When we moved to the farm, I thought it would be funny to put him by the shore of the lake to inspire Bigfoot “sightings” as visitors came up our driveway. Now that the lake has risen to all-time highs, he serves a dual purpose.

Working on the lake has been one of my favorite activities at the farm. I’ve been restocking and fertilizing yearly in hopes of returning it to its trophy bass glory days. Until then, it’s still a lot of fun to catch the small ones (especially on a fly rod).

Every person and every place has a story. Sometimes we are lucky enough to be privy to a portion of those stories, and sometimes, as in the case of the lake, they lie hidden underneath the surface or beside the still waters waiting to be discovered. Until next time, here’s to seeing you out there in our great outdoors.

Email outdoors columnist Brad Dye at braddye@comcast.net.