Lake Hartwell striper guide Rick Owen lands a striped bass from Hartwell. The guide prefers to fish the Seneca and Tugaloo river arms for linesides. Photo by Phillip Gentry.

The scene looked more like something off one of those Discovery Channel shows where bold men brave the elements to catch crabs out in the North Pacific. Only the red clay banks in the distant background gave away the location -- not the Bering Strait, but rather Lake Hartwell.

We were going fishing, though I couldn't quite imagine how you'd tell you had a bite on a rod and reel in this kind of winter weather. My guide for the day, Rick Owen, just smiled as we motored up the Seneca River in his 21-foot Sea Pro toward the Clemson area of the big river. I knew enough to know this wasn't going to be an ordinary day using ordinary fishing tactics. I had seen enough of Rick's pictures to know that we were likely to find some of Hartwell's striped bass and that we'd be pulling umbrella rigs to get them. The rest was kind of iffy and I half expected Rick to say we were turning around because there was too much wind to fish today. Instead, he throttled down and started getting ready to put the rigs in the water.

Thirty minutes later, my earlier thoughts about not being able to fish were proved groundless. We started out pulling two sets of umbrella rigs, a nightmarish version of a child's mobile that's pulled sideways through the water. An umbrella rig works by imitating a pod of baitfish. The rig has two spreader bars that form an "X" with two jigs dangling on 4-inch leaders from each arm and one jig on a trailer tied to the middle of the rig so that it follows a foot or so behind the other baits. Altogether, there were nine hooked baits on each rod -- essentially, a fair imitation of a small school of baitfish swimming together.

We'd gone maybe one-fourth mile when we got our first, and second, bite. There was no mistaking the bite as I had earlier feared I might. The rod went from a moderate bend under the weight of the rig in tow, to a classic double bend, and then before Rick or I could get the rod out of the holder, the rod bent over like a piece of elbow macaroni.

Knocking the boat out of gear, Owen, who's a full-time striper guide on Lake Hartwell (Rick's Guide Service 864- 356-7271), rushed to quickly reel in the other rig, while I was left to join the tug-of-war on our side. Finally wrestling the rod from the holder, a feat made easier by the lack of boat propulsion, I stuck the rod butt against my thigh and began cranking the reel.

"It's got to be at least two fish," said Owen, now behind me at the helm and grinning. "Even if they're fighting each other, the drag is tremendous."

Steadily cranking while keeping the rod tip high, I saw Owen's predictions prove to be true: two linesiders -- one a striper and the other a hybrid -- rolled up to the side of the boat accompanied by seven flailing jigs. Owen expertly grabbed the rig by one of the spreader bars and hoisted the whole show over the gunnel and onto the deck of his boat. He then began the process of unhooking the two fish, which were 8 to 9 pounds each. Then, as fast as we could, we got back to our fishing.