After hours spent looking at
maps, vacation days on the water trying to find new hotspots, pouring money
into your fuel tank for both food and transportation, on top of weeks of endless preperation for the “big”
tournament, the day has finally arrived and your hopes are high. You have been on fish the last three trips
out, you know the patterns, you know the holes, and you know how to catch the
winning stringer, but in reality, what you know has zero bearing on what you
can’t control, and that’s the weather.
Within seven days of your last succesful trip, in came two back to back
cold fronts that have drained all of the waters you have been catching monster
fish in while dropping water 
temperatures 15 degrees and turning everything in
the underwater world, upside down. But
hey, you have so much confididence in your honey hole, a red hot cattle prod
couldn’t convince you to change your strategies, so you decide to stick to your
game plan. With miles traveled, hours of
fighting low tides, freezing temperatures, frustration building, and no fish at all, you decide to accept
defeat and head back to the launch. 
NOW is where the question
begins to arise in your mind. Do I hang around for the weigh in? Do I let
everyone know that I didn’t catch anything? Do I share the stories about my
line breaking or maybe even the one that got away, OR do I get in early, load up quickly and quietly and
tuck tail home in hopes that no one ever realizes I wasn’t at the weigh in and
maybe, just maybe, I will never be reminded of this horrible tournament again???
It’s definetely a crossroad
for some, a lesson in humility for some, and for those that tend to see the
glass as always half full, it’s an opportunity to surround yourself with
success. I have racked my brain over the
last week trying to figure out the last weigh in I attended and didn’t learn
something. And yes, sometimes you may
have to weed through the stories and decifer what’s real and what’s not, or
what areas proved productive verses those that didn’t, either way, this is a
golden opportunity to learn. And believe
it or not, it’s usually the winners that are quick to share their techniques,
tactics, and most importantly their rationale for success.
Last week the Bayou CoastKayak Fishing Club held their 8th annual minimalist challenge in
Leeville, La, and with 100 competitiors signed up to compete and the weather
turning perfect at the last minute there was a packed house, even though the
previous week of weather had destroyed the water conditions. Water levels appeared to be 4 feet low, water
temps were in the 40s, and the fish were inactive to say the least. But even
with 8 hours of prefishing a complete skunk the day before, I still had a plan
as I went to bed the night before.
Unfortunately, my plan included fishing an area I have never been too,
or even looked at on a map, but with all the area I covered the day before, in
my mind, it was the only option left. On
the other hand, what I did have in my favor were the conditions. I had conditions that fit perfectly with an
event I fished years ago, back to back cold fronts, water levels lower than I
have ever witnessed, an unfamiliar area, and cold yet blue bird skies, and most
of all, a journal entry that reminded me of this exact scenario from years
past. And while I tossed up a giant zero
in the event I logged my notes from, I made the weigh in. I listened to those that caught fish and
especially to those that won, I logged it all down in my mind and on paper in
hopes that if I was ever confronted with that situation again, that maybe I
would have a better idea of how to develop my plan of attack. During that particular weigh in I learned of
different stalking techniques, bad condition lures, and most of all,
patience. 
Being what some would refer
to as a power angler, I normally base my plans around a run and gun
attack. I cover a lot of water, a lot of
different terain, and I use a lot of different techniques and lures. Rarely do I ever stick to one lure or one
area. More often than not, this attack usually lands me somewhere within reach
of some of the top anglers in the event, except for that one event where my run
and gun approach landed me nothing more than miles logged and an empty fish
bag. During that particular weigh in, I
spent as much time as I could in the shadows as to not draw attention to
myself, due to my failed attempt at being competitve, but I also spent a lot of
time bending the ears of those around me that walked away with winnings in
their pockets. I learned different
techniques from using smalller lures, to reading maps, to better understanding
weather conditions, to how the conditions affected the fish, and most of all
the rationale behind the game plans of those that won. 
I would have to say that the most
impactful lesson of that day was patience.
Normally when I enter a pond or an area where I can see fish, I am quick
to approach and get my lure within striking distance of my target, and after
landing that fish, moving on. Rarely do
I ever consider hanging around for longer than 15 minutes before hunting down
another productive area, but when conditions are rough, sometimes you just have
to wait it out. I heard of one angler
spending more than 3 hours to cover a pond no larger than half a football field,
where as I would usually cover that same area in less than 30 minutes. Well that slow moving, cat like sneaky
approach was exactly what was needed for this past weekends tournament. I even heard very similar stories from this
past event that only helped reinforce what I had heard years earlier. And while I had to pull away from my normal running
and gunning, I still have yet to perfect the rough condition slow and stealthy
attack.
I ended up finishing 8th,
which given the overall results and the amount of participants, wasn’t that
bad, but it wasn’t exactly where I wanted to be. After listening to stories and some of the
winners tactics, it was clear that while my plan was solid, I still needed to
slow it down. During the tournament I
ended up in a pond with well over 50-75 reds in it, I could see them
everywhere, and with brids crashing around me, and big shoulder reds blowing
through the mud beneath me, I got excited.
Did I move slow, yes, was it slow enough, not even close. I tried hard to get my adrenaline in check,
but it wasn’t for atleast a solid hour of spooking reds from one end of the
pond to the other that I was able to back away from attacking my prey, to
letting my prey come to me. I ended up
landing only 4 reds in the next 5 hours, and each one was hooked and landed
within 3 feet of the exact same spot, yet an hour or more apart. You see, the reds weren’t going anywhere, but
they werent hungry, they werent active, and they knew all too well that I was
there. So once I got my wits and
remembered what some past winners had
done, I did my best with the time I had left to imitate the stories and
techniques I had learned at past weigh ins.
So the next time you choose
to fish a tournament and skip the weigh in because you know you won’t win,
think about the lessons you could be missing out on. And while I have heard it said that skipping
a weigh in to avoid humility or to escape the idea of defeat, is equivalent to
walking off the field without shaking your oppenents hands and sometimes leaves
an everlasting display of poor sportsmanship, I do however understand there are
circumstances that arise at times that are cause for leaving early.
It’s important to remember
that there is always a silver lining in everything we do, sometimes we just
don’t see it. So at your next event,
when the going gets tough and you want to throw in the towel, that’s fine, but
someone is going to win the event. Wouldn’t you like to know what they did that
put them on top? Well, if you don’t geaux, you will likely never know. So, support your competitors, support your
tournament directors, support the sport, and in the end, you will likely be
supporting your own increase in knowledge.
Special Congrats to Arron
Larose 1st, Denis Soignier 2nd, Clayton Shilling 3rd
Until next time,
Stay Safe & Catch1
No comments:
Post a Comment