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Follow my Fish of 2018
We fishermen will do really silly things for this sport. Many would simply point to the money spent on boats, rods, reels, and having every color of our favorite baits in triplicate. Most of us would say "that's just the start of the obsession."
So when I tell you that I * VOLUNTARILY * woke up at 2AM Thursday morning in Philly (yes, the city of brotherly love) to fly home, get my truck, steal Josh's boat (cause, you know, mine is dead along with my hopes and dreams of winning the ABT-Wheeler), and fish at 5 PM at Ditto Landing, you know that I am certifiably nuts.
And, if you need a refresher on how my last few weeks have been a tumble down the mountain that I call Tournament Fishing, you can read all about it in the link below.
But, Josh had demanded that I shake it off and get back on the water, which would make my other partner, Brad, happy as we had another club tournament on Wheeler this past Saturday.
So we did and although Josh would be late, the day started off pretty good as I had two fish in the box by the time he came squealing into the parking lot of Ditto Landing on two wheels. We ran just upriver where we spent the better part of the next three hours essentially flipping backwater wood.
We had a limit really quick but we had two bites from quality fish that we couldn't get in the boat, one that Josh had throw the bait and I broke one off. We were doing nothing special but flipping shakey heads into shaded shallow laydowns. Several fish came off of bladed jigs as well. In the end, it took 10 pounds to win and we had six or so, though we caught a lot of fish and had fun, just couldn't get that one good bite, which is almost always the story when fishing Ditto for three hours.
Friday morning, Brad and I took off to First Creek to prefish for our upcoming tournament. Brad had fished the previous Saturday and had knocked them out. As I was in Nashville watching the Predators get drilled, he was sending me pictures of all the fish he had been catching on one small stretch of the main river. By the end of the day, he had lost count of how many fish he caught. None of them were giants, but the mixed bag of largemouth, smallmouth, and spots would have put him in the 12-14 pound range.
So as we drove to the ramp, we discussed how every year for the past four years, we had experienced the same thing over and over. That is, practice day was fairly easy and we almost always had 12 pounds and occasionally up to 20+. Come Saturday, we had never weighed in more than 12, though it was frequently enough to get a check and, even last year, win.
Instead of hammering the spot Brad found, we tried to expand upon it. What we did is nothing new, if you are regular reader here. We targeted main river points, pockets, and pea gravel bluffs. The system we use is simplistic. Brad throws a quick moving search bait, such as a square bill or some other crank, while I throw a clean up bait on the back such as a shakey head, jig, or a small slow rolling swimbait. When on the points or in the pockets, we will occasionally throw topwater as well.
We struck out for the first two hours, not really getting a single bite. A quick call to my buddy Naaman, who we had seen at the ramp, confirmed that he hadn't got a bite, either. So, as a sanity check, we went to the stretch that Brad had found and quickly picked up a limit of fish over the 200 yard stretch. The fist came on a variety of baits and only a square bill seemed to produce multiple bites. On the back of the boat, I caught fish on at least five different baits. A second trip down the stretch produced another five keepers and a lot of shorts.
This was good and bad. It told us there were fish to be had, but they weren't overly aggressive and they all wanted something different, nor were they quality. The day ended with a big smallie that I caught on a small swimbait and it was really the only tournament-worthy fish we caught all day. Still, our best five went 10 pounds and from our experience, that means we shouldn't expect to hit that number on Saturday. On the flip side, it told us that we were likely a big bite away from a check. More good news was that we didn't catch that fish Friday, which I have done time and time again.
Saturday had rain in the forecast all day. I can deal with rain. But TVA had drawn the lake level down overnight while pushing a ton of current Friday.
*Spoiler*
If you don't have current, don't fish the main river.
We knew this but we really didn't think about it. We had caught enough fish over the last six days to think we were better than current driven fish. Wrong.
We've started the past three years on one specific point which always holds one big smallie. The last two years, we've wised up and haven't fished that spot until Saturday and we've by-and-large been rewarded by catching that fish. This year, we didn't go to the spot and elected to go to our milk run first. Ironically, one of our competitors DID go there and DID catch that big smallie and that fish won the tournament. Good for him. Dumb of us.
I wish I could give yall more information, but there isn't much to say. We caught just six fish Saturday with only three measuring. I don't believe we caught but a few fish on our milk run and had to nickle-and-dime around just to get bites. I couldn't even get bit on a shakey head.
With drenching rain and low morale, we considered going home early. But our experience had always said that days like Saturday can be won on a single bite so we doggedly kept casting. At this point, Brad had 12 rods on the deck and I was down to two: a shakey head and the small swimbait.
I expected to get bites on the shakey head and I expected to get just two or one bites on the swimbait, but I knew those would be big.
I believe I got those bites on the swimbait, but after fighting a big fish for several seconds, getting her close to the boat, she turned and dropped the swimbait. This happened twice and made me consider if I was setting the hook right, if i had the right rod, or maybe the hook was dull. After it happened a second time, I was at a loss as I had fixed all three. The way those fish hit, fought, and turned the bait loose at the boat, I am pretty sure I had two three-pound class smallies on. Those buggers are hard fighting and smart.
Unlike last year, there were no last minute heroics. Just a walk of shame to the weigh in station. It took 10 to win, 8 for second. Something else for third, but who cares at that point.
It's been a tough stretch the last month and over dinner, Josh asked me if I was going to Weiss with him the next day. I looked at him quizzically and he informed me our next ABT tournament was this Saturday....
So, back at it.
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