Run-and-gun fest

We're having trouble getting close to the pros to photograph them. When we come around, they stop fishing and jet away. I'm beginning to get a complex


We finally corner Davy Hite in a quiet pocket. He has one bass.


"He's not a big one, but he's a the champ right now," Hite says.


He darts across the cove and casts a topwater bait to a flooded bush. No takers.


Take that back. He just hooked a solid bass. It jumps, shows off its fat belly and throws the bait. Hite throws his arms up on despair. He quickly regains composure and goes back to work. No use crying over spilled milk