PERRY COUNTY - Once he reached the middle of nowhere, Gene Morgan turned left.

He nosed the four-wheel drive pickup down a steep dirt road, inching along, allowing the truck to absorb the shock of ruts and stone protrusions.

The pay-off was worth it - a 40-acre privately-owned strip cut loaded with bass, crappie and bluegill.

The scene was spectacular - the dead stillness of early August turned the surface of the water into a 40-acre mirror. Wooded hills rose steeply on the south side of the cut, a gently sloping hill formed the north border.

"You're here by yourself," Morgan said. "That's the best."

Actually, he understated the underlying motive - you can fish in Southern Illinois and enjoy the blessings of solitude.

In a matter of minutes, Morgan had loaded his 4-5 rods and reels, two tackle boxes and small cooler into a john boat and was already making tackle selections.

"I'm going to start with topwater," he said. "I usually keep two rods rigged, one with topwater, one with a worm. We catch a lot of fish on worms here."

The first problem became apparent immediately.

Where to cast?

Nearly every inch of water looked to hold a lurking lunker. There were shallow flats holding large rocks, trees and bushes hanging low over the water, there were fields of weeds and even an occasional deadfall.

"There are so many places to throw it's unbelievable," Morgan said. "Those weeds make it tough on a crank bait though.

"When they're on, you can really catch them here. It's not fished out."

A regular at the strip cut, Morgan made a couple quick casts over a shallow flat, protected by low-hanging branches. Unfortunately, nothing happened, causing some concern.

"I've made 8-10 casts and haven't had a strike yet," Morgan said. "And, that's bad."

Morgan moved slowly down the south bank, but pointed the boat to the north. A long cast, parallel to the bank resulted in a small bass knocking Morgan's topwater bait out of the water. However, the fish deftly eluded the dangling pair of treble hooks.

Within 30 minutes, Morgan trolled the john boat past rocks, shallow flats and a sizeable beaver lodge without another strike.

"We caught some nice crappie around the beaver lodge early in the spring," he said.

But, no crappie, at least no hungry crappie, were hanging around the beaver lodge. For that matter, neither were any hungry bass.

"It's about time to go to the worm," Morgan announced gravely.

Just a few minutes later, Morgan set the hook on a small bass. He got the fish nearly to the boat when it spit the hook. There were a few other short strikes before the first bass made it to the boat.

"Now we know how the guys in Pittsburgh (The Bassmaster Classic) felt," Morgan said. "If Rick Clunn can do it (get blanked), so can Winkeler and Morgan."

While the fishing was slow, there were other benefits. The location was so remote there was never the sound of a car, truck, tractor and it was nearly three hours into the trip before a jet was heard roaring overhead. Since it was a private body of water, there were no other boats, no water skiers or jet skis.

The only sounds were the calls of various songbirds, the croaking of bullfrogs and the aggravating sound of bass feeding on the surface.

Although the aesthetics were nearly perfect, the fishing left something to be desired.

As the cool breezes of early morning gave way to the wilting sun of midday, the fishing actually improved slightly. The day's catch remained modest, a total of four bass and an equal number of bluegill.

"People who don't understand the outdoors would think this was a bad day," Morgan said, pointing the boat to the shore. "It was great."

On balance, it was hard to argue with that assessment.

les.winkeler@thesouthern.com

618-529-5454 x 15805