Skipping across Lake Wylie at 65 mph a few minutes after 7 a.m. is a great way to start a day.

Skipping back to the dock at 65 mph is a great way to end it. When we’re not skipping, we’re fishing.

Spend a day on the water with Gerald Swindle, the 2004 Bassmaster Angler of the Year, and one thought comes screaming out of your head so loud you can hear it through the wind:

I want your job!

Says Swindle: “People say, ‘You fish for a living? Dude, you’ve got the best job in the world.”‘

Do you?

“I think so,” he says. “I’ve got the best office. I see the sun rise, the sun set, and my commute is easy. There’s not much traffic on the lake.”

Swindle, 34, is in Charlotte to practice for the Bassmaster Classic on July 30-Aug.1 on Lake Wylie. He is one of 53 anglers who will compete for a $200,000 first prize.

Swindle, a slick-looking guy with style and a sense of humor, wears a khaki shirt and khaki cargo shorts, Oakley sandals and silver Polarized Kaenon sunglasses the company gives him to wear.

Back home outside Birmingham, he is in the gym at 5:30 a.m. to lift weights. When he’s on the road and can’t find a gym or time to use it, he feels sluggish and guilty. Breakfast is a power bar.

We all have an image of a fisherman. It’s not him.

“We want to show America that fishermen are not a bunch of overweight Bubbas,” he says.

Yet, what makes Swindle the angler of the year is this. He catches bass.

He was married May 8 and left three days later for Columbus, Miss.

“When we ain’t on the water, we’re doing appearances,” Swindle says.

The trip to Lake Wylie is not an appearance. On the boat are about 20 fishing rods and at least 1,000 pieces of tackle. There’s a foot-operated trolling motor on the front of the $35,000 boat. There are two depth finders and global positioning units.

During a tournament he’ll stand on the front of the boat for most of eight hours, pausing mainly to grab bottled water and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich tightly wrapped in plastic.

He’ll cast repeatedly, change the color of his lures, rely on all his Alabama tricks and some days go back to the hotel empty.

“There are no coaches, no sports psychologists, and we’re in a room 1,000 miles from home,” Swindle says. “Two years ago, I couldn’t have caught water if I fell out the boat. But if you doubt yourself, if you question your ability or your decisions, you’ll never pull yourself out of your funk.”

Now there is action. Swindle’s line dives into the water.

“Moby Dick,” he says.

He reels in a good-sized bass, about 31/2 pounds. He carefully removes the hook and returns it to the water.

“We treat bass like family members,” he says. “Very rarely do you hear about bass fisherman eating bass. That would be like saying to your dog, ‘Come here, Blue. I’m hungry.”‘

Swindle grew up with little money on a small family farm. He has fished as long as he can remember. When he turned pro, he couldn’t afford a hotel, so he slept in his truck.

“You can’t buy your way into the sport,” he says.

If you don’t need money, what do you need?

“Outdoor skills,” he says. “Water skills. Instincts. Desire. Whooo! It has to burn.”