My Picks for the Classic

ESPN aired a preview show on the Classic this morning, and when it came time to make some picks it went two ways. Zona went the predictable route--KVD, Skeet, and Ike--while the co-host picked a few less likely candidates, Dean Rojas, Gary Klein, and Mark Tucker. These picks are pretty interesting, since all three anglers are excellent shallow water fishermen and everyone anticipates the bite to center around the spawn, as it has in years past. Given those kind of criteria, there are a number of guys who can be put on a potential list: Aaron Martens, Tommy Biffle, Brent Chapman, Randy Howell, Shaw Grigsby, Denny Brauer, and a host of others. No one can count 2007 champion, Boyd Duckett, out of the mix either. But for my choices, I'm going to make my decision based on a combination of who has momentum from last year's trail as well as inherent strengths. My top three are Tommy Biffle, Randy Howell, and Mike Iaconelli. These are three guys who fished as consistently as anyone last year and who seem to be at the top of their game. After that, I think any of the other names I listed are fair choices, along with Skeet, KVD, and Alton Jones, but I would have to say that if there's a dark horse it would be either Kevin Short, who won the toughest shallow water tournament of the season last year on the big Miss, or Brent Chapman. I mention Chapman simply because in their analysis of him, the ESPN announcers said he was consistent but may lack the "killer instinct." If you've been reading this blog you'll notice that I was fortunate to ride with Chapman as a marshal at the final Elite event last year on Oneida. I am NOT experienced enough to say I'm an authority on the matter, but I will say that he seemed to have enough energy and focus to fish for 16 hours straight. Maybe that's a moot point, since everyone on the Elite Series is expected to have that kind of stamina. But at no point did he ever seem "beaten," though he did acknowledge that he was not having his best day. I don't call that weak. I call that confident, observant, and open-minded.

Winter

I will probably take this back in two months, but I am glad winter has finally arrived in New England. For the last few months I was petty confused about whether or not to fish. Sounds like a silly thing to say, but I think my reasons are sound. Like many, I was expecting winter a bit sooner though just as suddenly as it actually arrived. Imagine, then, how bad the fishing is likely to get if there's a shift in weather that lasts longer than a passing cold front. That's New England, and granted we may be more likely to have a few thaws throughout the winter than other areas are likely to experience, but few would argue that when winter arrives here it seems to have made up its mind. This is perhaps the worst part of living in New England, the stubbornness of its winters. Often we experience low temperatures in the 40's right through much of June, though it is often possible for us to have some days in the 60's and 70's in May. But given that our fishing season typically lasts little more than six months it would seem silly to squander any opportunities to get out and fish. That said, I did get out a few times this month, and I expect they're my last of the year. The novelty of fishing while there's snow on the ground is definitely on my mind, and I'm sure the opportunity will present itself, since we're supposed to warm up slightly into the 40's next week. Ice-in is still not quite here, but most water temps are in the low 40's, nearly as cold as the air. However, at what point does fishing really become less a matter of fun and more of a chore? Last time I went out I was pretty cold but willing to deal with it. But it was also about 45-50 outside, not the 27 it is as I write this. And I could still see fish moving around a bit, and nearly got a pickerel to bite an in-line spinner. I doubt very much they'll want to do anything, never mind chase a lure. And I might not want to cast one, for that matter.

Lessons

Lessons seem to come in more forms than one can anticipate. When it comes to fishing, a lot of the learning comes on the water, though I've felt newly armed in the spring after a winter of reading without any fishing for months. We're experiencing a slightly longer season in New England than we have in a while, and I've been doing my best to take advantage of it, albeit from shore and not from a boat. I went to my favorite local pond today and found that one big bass legend's advice holds true under most conditions. Bill Murphy, author of In Search of Giant Bass, includes in his book an illustration of a hop retrieve with an interesting explanation. He says that the last ten feet or so of an angler's retrieve constitute a "low concentration area," to paraphrase, and by this he means that if someone casts to a specific spot, hops a bait for a few feet within that spot, and doesn't get a bite, he then reels the bait back to the boat without a thought. What Murphy points out about this is that if one is searching for a giant bass, as he did, one should be mindful of those last few feet. His point is that often a bass will follow a bait for a while without biting, and then once they're out of their "area" they'll make a decision to bite or go back, rather than keep swimming and move any farther away from an area of security. Sounds logical enough, except that it neglects what tournament anglers preach--make as many casts as possible and cover a lot of water. In another area of the book Murphy provides a photograph of himself with a 15 pounder, saying that it took him hours of fishing until a rain activated the fish into striking his lure. This also seems to illustrate the difference between big bass hunters and tournament anglers. In tournaments we don't have the luxury of waiting for the ideal conditions to materialize and produce such a big fish, though it might help our results. We need to boat a limit. But as big bass hunters we have all day to wait for the right bite at the right time in the right place. How does this apply to my fishing? Well, I was fishing a jerkbait, very slowly, and just when I thought I'd had it from that spot I began to reel the bait back in, quickly, when it suddenly felt heavy. I pulled on it, thinking it was a weed, and saw a fish turn on it and swim away. Murphy's lesson is one of patience and attention, something we all need to be reminded of every once in a while, no matter the circumstances or the goal.

Off Season

We're now into November, and while local ponds haven't iced over yet I would say that the off-season has officially begun. I will fish a few more times, mind you. But I don't expect to catch anything. Why bother? Maybe becuase it'll just be good to be outdoors before it gets too cold. Or it'll be out of a need to wet a line and throw a lure. And there IS the chance of catching something, though I think the chances of a sunny or crappie are better than a bass. At any rate, though it doesn't feel totally right to call it quits while there's open water, it is the end of the season.
So, what to do for the next four to six months? Plan a trip south, for sure! A number of ideas along that line have occured to me--a friend lives in Naples, Florida, which has some great saltwater fishing in the Gulf; there are also a number of guided trips available, including some Elite anglers, albeit for a hefty price; and then there's the first B.A.S.S. Southern Open in January. While this last prospect seems less like a vacation and more like a lesson, there are some benefits: one, it's three days of fishing for less than the cost of a guide; two, it's on one of the largest lakes in the United States, which is something to experience; three, there is always the chance of making one's entry fee back, nevermind some money or prizes in winnings; and four, there will be some damned good anglers there, so the opportunity to learn is great. Yes, it is far less about relaxing, but it does provide a lot of living.

Last fish

I've always had the worst time catching fish at this time of the year. It seems like once October 1 hits New England the fish shut down. But every time I've gone I've seen the familiar swells of water following moving fish or the occasional jump on the surface. Today was no different. I went to a local pond and started throwing a Carolina rig, thinking they might be in deep water close to the bottom. No luck. I switched to a jig, trying to fish a bit slower. Then I saw a few fish break the surface and thought a popper might get a hit. No luck with that either, but as I was reeling it back in a fish jumped at it about a foot from shore. I was astounded. The air temp got down to 32 degrees last night, so I didn't even imagine the fish could still be that active. But they were, so I decided to try a buzzbait and while I did I remembered something Guy Eaker wrote in his book, Catching Bass Like a Pro. He said it's probably best to retrieve a buzzbait as slowly as possible, especially in the fall, so that's what I did. I even let it sink a little every once in a while and pulled on it, creating a spitting action. No luck with that either, but I thought maybe bulging a spinnerbait might work. I was wrong again, but began varying the retrieve with it and settled on slow rolling it deeper in the water when a fish finally hit it pretty well. After all those decisions I must say it was incredibly satisfying to finally catch a fish during this month that has beaten me until now. It was definitely not my best of the season but it was probably the most gratifying, and if it ends up being my last of the year I'll be happy.

Careers, etc.

Okay, so this is the part where it gets stupid and messy because it's almost 3am when I'm writing this. But I'm hoping my logic is still okay, because I need to get a few things straight. Fishing cannot, ever, be a career for me, but it must take up a lot of time because I love it. Nonetheless, my job kills me, as it does a lot of people, far too many to imagine. FAR too many to imagine. Yet the messed up thing, to me, is how so many careers, jobs, endeavors, call them what you will, operate on a pretty skewed set of principles. Granted, this is the way the world is, and one must accept it or go mad. Yet I suppose one can't fault someone for looking for something better, a situation where performance matters more, though it may not be the only criteria for judgement. Perhaps this is where the allure of fishing, or any endeavor like it comes from. The fish don't care what sponsors you have, how much you've made in winnings, or which lures you're throwing bear your name. However, if you're a good angler all those things come to you--sponsors, lures, winnings--and while envy may follow I contend that pro anglers are operating on a slightly more level playing field than most of us. Granted, the world of fishing will always have its KVDs or Roland Martins, but what happens if someone like, say, Shaw Grigsby wins next year's Classic? He hasn't won one yet, he has his own show, and he has proved to be as consummate professional as the sport has seen in the last 30 years. Does the sport spurn him in favor of a more "marketable" option? Not necessarily. Alton Jones, for instance, never portrayed the rock star type persona that KVD seems to have created after he won the Classic. Yet he has been embraced as a champion should be. The criteria upon which his celebrity has been created, if we are to think of celebrity amongst anglers as similar to that of the rest of the world, are defined far more on a basis of performance than marketability. In fact, it seems that one's performance is exactly the worth in this case. A lot of articles and books would have one believe that salesmanship plays a bigger role in one's ability to attract sponsors, but it really seems that if one wants to sell fishing lures and equipment one better be damned good at fishing. (The FLW tour is an obvious exception, with its emphasis on sponsors outside the fishing industry.) The problem I'm having with all this is in understanding why the rest of "the world" is so slow to pick up on this concept. Perhaps it has something to do with the nature of the work involved. For instance, I'm a chef, and no one who eats at my restaurant cares about where I've cooked before or who I've cooked for or that I've cooked with some ingredients that many chefs never see in their lifetime. All they care about is getting what they're paying for, which, in many cases, isn't much--a piece of chicken, some pasta, a little sauce, some vegetables. Whatever the case may be, it seems like the more mundane the practice the less likely one is to make a lot of money, at least in the short-term. But something that provides a bit more drama--aka public exposure--is more likely to pay off in a big way over a shorter period of time. SO . . . there is clearly no ideal situation. But somehow fishing seems a lot more pure an endeavor than most, since it's based more on performance than most. And money is also far less likely to corrupt one's sense of enjoyment in the act, since it is far less necessary an activity as cooking. (And one can substitute cooking, in this case, for any number of pursuits.) Perhaps the least important activities are the most worthwhile.

First Tournament

I finally fished my first tournament, on Lake Winnipesaukee today. The NH Bass Casters held their next-to-last midweek tournament there today, for a field of 30 anglers. My goal was to not get skunked, and luckily I did just that, bringing in one fish weighing 1-13. Yeah, not great, but I wasn't like the one guy who didn't catch a thing. The winner was a guy who, according to a few, always seems to bring in big bags. He came in with over 17 lbs of fish, with a lunker over 6 lbs. That beat out two fairly well known area pros who were on hand to compete.
As for my day, well, let's just say I've fished better. My biggest problem was being at the mercy of the guy at the front of the boat. Don't get me wrong, he was an incredibly nice guy, and I could not have been paired with a better host. But his fishing style was as opposite of mine as I could imagine. He essentially cranked a spinnerbait all day long, while I opted for soft plastics and jigs. His approach worked, as he brought in four fish, around 8 lbs, I'm guessing. The hardest part of fishing with someone who likes to fish fast was trying to keep my patience. I was never able to feel comfortable, since I like to be thorough and slow. Again, the exact opposite of spinnerbaits and cranks, which I tried many times throughout the day. But I think this teaches me that, as with other aspects of fishing success often depends upon one's ability to fish within a set of limitations.

My Season

I've done a lot of talking about the seasons of other anglers, so it's only fair that I talk a bit about my own accomplishments this season. I've only been fishing for three years, except the few times I went as a kid with my father. The learning curve, I suppose, is a bit different, but I guess I am subject to the same judgments as any. So I guess honesty is in order! Did I catch a lot of fish? To me, yeah! It was a big, big improvement over last year, due mostly to my trip to Oneida as a Marshall at the B.A.S.S. event. Watching the two pros I was paired with--John Murray and Brent Chapman--provided me with enough inspiration and instruction to help me catch more fish than I did last year. I can't say exactly what I learned other than a sense of patience and perseverence, but I do know that my skills improved. My best day was three fish on a local pond (in Hampstead, NH), each about 2 1/12- 3 lbs, and my worst was an obvious zero, though I feel like I learned from nearly every day I was out. Of note is my latest day on the water, which was today. I travelled farther than I should have in my tiny, electric-powered boat and was fortunate to have met someone on my way back who was kind enough to tow me the rest of the way. I hadn't caught a fish to that point, but as he was pulling in to the ramp I decided to cast out a few times. I caught a decent fish on my fifth cast, my only of the day. Just goes to show that the least likely of circumstances sometimes produce.

AOY

The B.A.S.S. Postseason provided a lot of drama, as anticipated, but to me what was most revealing was a comment made by Kevin Van Dam, who seemed all but defeated after the first event on the Alabama River. To paraphrase, he said it was a pretty tough task to overcome his bad first day there on a two-day event. Going into the final event on Lake Jordan, it seemed like Skeet Reese had as comfortable a lead as could be imagined in such circumstances--he had to finish in the top three to win the AOY. Yet it seems that he fell victim to exactly the circumstances that KVD described after the Trophy Chase, and it begs the question, was this the best possible format to determine the Angler of the Year? Nearly, in my opinion. The one change that I think could, and probably should be made is to change the two postseason events from two two-day events to two three-day events. KVD's comment says it all--the curve is far too short to recover from, and while such an outlook may seem too "forgiving" it is, in fact, a greater test of skill and endurance. Rick Clunn has some interesting views on the role that luck plays in bass tournaments, and they bear repeating here. In his mind, the longer the format of the tournament, on the scale of 1-4 days, the lesser role luck plays in determining a winner. His logic is sound and straightforward: fish will get more accustomed to lures, anglers have a better chance of figuring out patterns, thereby giving the edge to the guys who have best "figured out" a lake, and as conditions change the anglers are forced to change with them. Given that the two postseason events were not only short in duration but on two different bodies of water one can only assume that luck played a greater role in determining the final standings than some of the final 12 anglers would have liked. As professionals, they will likely not say a thing to complain about the format. Yet as competitors I am willing to bet a little money that if given the chance they would eagerly voice a few opinions and suggestions about the matter.
Consider the latest blog entry from Alton Jones on the Bassmaster web-site. He writes that his immediate feelings after the postseason were that his season was only fair at best, but that he later felt better about how things played out. Of all the anglers in the postseason, he was among those whose final standing changed little--he went from 3rd to 6th. While that's hardly anything to be happy about, it is worth noting that there are six other guys, including one or two who fished very well during the postseason, who would be happy to have ended up where Alton did. This, to me, is as much a testament to skill as it is luck, since Alton clearly didn't fish well enough to win AOY but did fish well enough to finish in the middle of a very talented field. Add to that the fact that both events were only two days long, on two different bodies of water and it makes his achievement all the more impressive, as well as that of the other five anglers who finished ahead of him.
In the end, it seems that the best angler really was the one who won. KVD figured out a way to come back from a tough but short tournament and led each of the two days on Lake Jordan. Perhaps the matter of the other anglers "helping" him defeat Skeet should be addressed too. That might be another topic for another post.

AOY Debate

Saturday marks the beginning of the first B.A.S.S. postseason, with two two-day tournaments featuring the top 12 anglers from the Elite Series regular season. Now is the time for debates and bets on who will win. My picks are:
Skeet Reese. He's been on a mission, fishing as consistently as anyone on the tour, and at a time when it seemed like a lot of anglers were beaten by the tough fishing at Oneida he found a way to take the slimmest of leads in regular season points over KVD. Granted, that lead meant nothing in terms of taking the top post-season spot, since KVD's win at Smith Mountain gave him the #1 spot.
Alton Jones. Aside from Skeet, I think he's the most consistent angler on the tour. KVD is a winning machine, but for my tastes (and, yes, I am probably the only person in the world who thinks this) he takes a few too many risks with his run-and-gun style. That said, my number three pick is . . .
KVD. Hard not to put him in the top three, never mind winning the thing. And I have no idea how either of the fisheries suit his fishing style (though I imagine rivers are not his strong point). Nonetheless, he knows how to win, period.
Randy Howell. He flat-out killed the competition on day one at Oneida, which included a five pound beast from Peter T. He's my pick to make a serious run at the top three next year.
Kelly Jordan. Again, consistency. And he's in the right spot in the standings to stay near the top.
Michael Iaconelli. This guy has been so close to winning tournaments this year that I imagine it's killing him, especially when you consider he was "this close" to winning the Forrest Wood Cup, worth $500,000. Like Skeet, he seems to be on a mission, but he's contending with a seriously tough field and a lower than expected finish to the season.
Tommy Biffle. He won earlier this year, and he's still ina good position to win it all.
Todd Faircloth. Last year's runner up is also in a good spot, but he seems to have flattened out recently.
Gary Klein, Cliff Pace, Mark Menendez, and Gerald Swindle, in that order, are my picks to round out the field.
Funny thing about this post-season is that it seems to be redefining what the "best" and "worst" are. To think that the worst of these 12 anglers is a bad angler is obviously silly, but when viewed in this context it does remind one of just how hard it is to be at the very top of the sport. Likewise, to make to the top 12 is probably so hard that any of the guys finishing 13th to 100 might feel as though he's failed, at least in part. Think of all the anglers who won on the Elite Series this year and who aren't a part of the post-season. And to think that Skeet Reese didn't win a single regular season event but finished at the top of the regular season standings makes the point that one would rather be good than lucky.

Entry Fees and such

So I didn't make it to the Squam Lake tourney. I was so excited about it that I literally didn't get any sleep the night before, but it ended up being a blessing in disguise because it turned out I couldn't afford the entry fees. It's been a goal of mine to fish one tournament this year, with the hope that I can fish an entire trail next year (as a non-boater). So I'm not in any hurry to do any of this, and as disappointing as it was to back out of yesterday's event I know that the time will come.
Which makes me think--how "bad" is it to pay such high entry fees? As a writer, I know how odd the pay structure of things can be. I published a small book about three years ago and found that my publisher wanted me to pay for personal copies. At first I was a bit suspicious but later found out it was the standard. Still, I felt that it was wrong, since I knew that no one would read my book, never mind pay for it. So, in a sense, I was covering the costs of printing it myself, which is the same as self-publishing--something that is disreputable in publishing. In a similar sense, it seems like anglers are paying each other with their own money. (I realize that is very awkwardly worded.) The Elites underwent a reduction in their schedule this year, and they'll follow the same format next year, of 8 regular season tournaments and two post-season events. Along with this restructuring of the schedule came a reduction in entry fees--about $40,000 for the year. (I have no idea what it cost in the past.) Speaking briefly with Elite angler John Murray, I found out that the season went from something like 12-14 events to the current 8. According to Murray, part of the change was because of the price of gas, though it seems from numerous online and print sources that the general costs (i.e. entry fees) weighed against the current financial climate led to the decision. All of this begs the question, what happens to those fees once they're collected? Obviously, B.A.S.S. is a professional organization with a professional staff that deserves to be paid for their time. Anyone who has been to one of their events or watched them on tv knows how well-run they are. Yet if one takes into consideration that in a eight tournament season, plus the Bassmaster Classic, B.A.S.S. pays out roughly $1,300,000 to the first place finishers alone, then it seems that, as in publishing, anglers are simply paying one another with their entry fees. Clearly, prize money for those finishing from 2nd to 100 should be taken into account, not to mention year-end awards like the Angler of the Year. (At the last regular season event at Oneida Lake prize money for those finishing from 2nd to 50th accounted for roughly $510,000; no one below 5oth collected a check.) So that's about $600,000 per regular season event, or $4.8 million per season, just for regular season events. If all 100 anglers are able to pay for the season's entries $4,000,000 is available. So, clearly, B.A.S.S. must get additional money from sponsors, which include ESPN, the parent company which bought them sometime in the last ten years and which also brings television advertising revenues with it. At any rate, it does seem like the biggest chunk of the payout change comes from the anglers themselves. Is this backwards? Well, I do know that if I don't do a good job at work I don't necessarily have to fork money over to those who outperform me. Then again, my hours may be cut--which is a bit like an Elite angler not getting the chance to fish past the second day if he doesn't make the top 50 cut. At any rate, this is clearly a pretty complex matter and does involve something we've probably all heard about at one time or another--Other People's Money. It's the only way anyone ever gets rich. It just seems kind of unfortunate that one day the check you earn may come from a colleague you may end up giving the money back to on another day.

Bass Bucket List

Just saw an interesting post on Bassmaster.com, about bucket lists. Begs the question, what do you want to do in bass fishing before you die? Being that I'm still pretty young (under 40, I'll leave it at that), my list would be pretty mundane. So how about just a list of things within the next, say, five years?
Buy a bass boat
Fish the B.A.S.S. Opens Series
Catch a 10-pounder (probably Florida--plan on going this winter!)
Win at least one tournament
Get at least one sponsor
All pretty tough to attain, but not impossible. Again, to me this is one of the great things about this sport, that it can accomodate a lot of different "goals," even if they're as simple as taking a fishing vacation to fish for a species you've never fished for before. (This reminds me of a story: Brent Chapman mentioned to me at the Oneida tourney that he'd gone fishing for peacock bass bass with some friends. He said, "If you ever have the chance, do it. Think of it as fishing for smallmouth on steroids. I caught a 25 pounder, and the world record is 27." Definitely the kind of thing I'm talking about.)
Anyway, didn't get to the Squam tournament today--couldn't sleep last night, just way too excited! But there is another on Squam this Saturday. I'll post pix and comments after. Another goal down--first ever tournament.

Squam lake, September 2

I'm going to fish my first tournament on Squam Lake this Wednesday. That's first EVER, not first this year. Been looking forward to this all season long, and finally decided I've got the money for the entry. The timing is right too, as I'll have all day tommorow to rig my rods and get everything set and be able to get to bed early for the drive up to the lakes region. I live in southern N.H., about and hour and a half away. Registration is a 6 am, so that means I leave at 4:30--yikes!
Hoping to catch at least one fish and not embarass myself, but I do plan on fishing as hard as I can, without taking many breaks. Most of all, I want to have fun--that would make it money well spent--but I would like to learn a lot too. My biggest questions and concerns are about water temperature and depth. This time of year has been very tough for me to figure out, and that combined with Squam being a smallmouth lake (don't get to fish for smallies much) should make things a challenge.

Champion's Choice, Part 4

This is a view from the first spot Brent Chapman fished from on day 2, just before the ride into the fog. Shows how picturesque the entire thing was--not far from shore, sun just coming up, fishing a topwater. Just doesn't get any better than this.

After fishing the fog for about an hour (without a bite), we headed back up the lake to a point at the end of two islands. He went back to pitching the grass (as many anglers were doing) with a soft plastic--a Zoom Ultravibe Speed Craw in watermelon candy. (He also made a few pitches with a junebug colored ultravibe, but stuck mostly with the original color.)

By this time we'd been on the water for a couple of hours and Brent had yet to land a fish. We came across Yusuke Miyazaki, and he and Brent talked about lures and the conditions. Miyazaki said, "Harder today, huh?" to which Brent answered "Yeah, I'd say so!" It seemed like a lot of guys were having a hard time finding the larger fish (and I remember him saying to Derek Remitz later in the day, "How many of the same sized fish can there be on this lake?"), and Brent would end the day with just over 12 pounds, not enough to make the third day cut. But for all the pressure he must have felt, he was a great host. I did my best not to bother him, but he often initiated conversation. Guess he's just a social person. (Remember an interesting conversation regarding a friend of his getting fired from a job at one of the major phone companies and how they set him up to fail, something I see as a chef all the time. Guess there are jerks all over, in all walks of life.)

In all, this was far and away one of the most interesting and funnest things I've ever done. My thanks to B.A.S.S. for the opportunity to do this.

Champion's Choice, Part 3

just a note: I plan on making at least one more post in this series on the Oneida Lake Elite Series event. Call this part 2 1/2 or 3, it will be brief, with more to come on the subject of day two of the tournament.

Day Two began with much better weather than day one--not completely overcast. That is, until you hit another part of the lake. (More on that later.) This is what things looked like at roughly 6 am. I was riding with Brent Chapman, 12th in the AOY points coming into the event. He weighed in about 12lbs of fish on day one, which was about average. (The day one leader, Randy Howell, brought in around 17.) Needless to say, Brent was anxious about having a good day--he would later say how he was worried about just making to the third day, never mind the postseason.

Our first spot was a top-water area. I saw he'd made some notes on his GPS about it being one of the better largemouth spots on the lake, though it also said something about crappie. (He switched views on the screen and later turned the unit off, something I noticed John Murray doing on day one--I think these guys are very secretive about giving up information.) He began twitching a Rebel Pop-R, and got a couple strikes though no fish. This was, far and away, the most picturesque moment of the tournament for me. The sun rose just as we arrived, and I don't think I could have frowned if someone had paid me.

After about 45 minutes of scouring the spot, he said, "Ready to go on a boat ride?" As clear as things were, they got foggy. And eerie. And quiet.

Champion's Choice, Part 2

Months ago I signed up to be a Marshal at the Oneida Lake Elite Series event, and originally I was wait-listed. About a month ago I received a call that a spot opened up, and feeling that I was due for a vacation I jumped at the chance. I was only able to attend the first two days of the competition, but I figured it would be a great experience. And was it ever.

I kept a very detailed notebook of the entire weekend, and rather than recount all the minutiae (the introductory meetings, getting my first glimpse of Alton Jones and the other Elite guys, the thrill of launching the first day in the dark of 6 am), I'll keep things to the fishing. I was paired with John Murray my first day, who was 24th in the AOY standings prior to the event, putting him in a position to qualify for the Classic. He wasn't the friendliest guy at our first meeting on Wednesday, but I figured he was on edge about the event. So we took off, 65 mph at 6 am on Thursday, and came in to a hump somewhere in what I guessed was "the middle" of the lake. He pulled out a spinning rod rigged with a drop shot, and on the second cast caught his first fish of the day. I remember that when he hooked it I said "Are you kidding?" He didn't say a word, played the fish for a while, landed it and put in the well. He hooked and lost fish on his thrid and fourth casts, and within an hour he had a limit. This was exactly what I had hoped to see--bass fishing's best doing their best right before my eyes.

Unfortunately, that first hour would be the day's most eventful. After boating the limit we went "up" the lake (I didn't know where we were), where John pitched a jig for much of the day. It seemed to be a large, grassy flat occupied by a number of other guys (including, I think, KVD, for an hour or so). Other than that there were no distinguishing features to the area, though John motored from one side to the other many times throughout the day. He was able to boat a few largemouth, though none seemed to help his overall weight. After a trip up the Erie Canal, to lock 23 (as far as they were allowed to go), we came in for the day, and John weighed in 10lbs 8 oz, which, last time I saw, put him, unfortunately, next to last, just above Zell Rowland, who came in with a little over 9lbs.

As for what I learned from the first day, I can easily say that while John may not be the household name for a professional angler he was as patient, diligent, and thorough an angler as I've ever seen. His day essentially consisted of 8-10 hours of pitching grass, over and over and over again. He didn't pause, except to weigh and cull his fish (which he did with a culling beam, which seemed cumbersome to me), and during the half hour it took us to travel up the canal (which was a no-wake zone) he seemed anxious. Surely, he's not a conversational guy; yet his demonstration of focus was something else. And it seemed like 9 of 10 times his lure entered the water without any noise or splash. Like nearly everyone else on the water he had trouble finding anything more than a 2 pound fish. That would end up being much of the story of the tournament, as the second day would find a number of anglers struggling, including one poised to make the post-season, with a select few able to find fish large enough to keep them in the top 5.

Rods, reels, etc.

So much equipment, so little time . . . . It seems like one could spend a lifetime sifting through all the options of fishing equipment and never find the right combination of line, lure, rod, and reel. Though this might be a marketing ploy it is also an opportunity for anglers to fine tune their preferences. As such, one could easily write one's "biography" as an angler on the basis of the gear he/she has used through the years. My own are: a 5'0" Shakespeare combo, probably best used as a trout rod. Caught my first largemouth on it three years ago, on a texas rigged worm on some kind of light line (it came pre-rigged); after that came another Shakepeare, Ugly Stik, 6'0" medium action spinning rod with a Shimano rear drag reel (both of which I recently e-bayed); a Daiwa 5'6" light action spinning combo, which I still fish unweighted plastics on--this combo is still a favorite, great overall action and has caught me more fish than any other; another Daiwa 6'6" baitaster (paired with a Megaforce reel--see my earlier post for comments on the reel); a Shimano 6'6" medium action spinning rod with a Daiwa reel--"free" gift from NAFC--not a bad combo, contrary to my earlier opinions; and a BPS Tourney Special Baitcasting rod with a Pro Qualifier reel, my current favorite. The reason I mention all this is that it seems a good measure of one's involvement with fishing. Like many, when I was a kid I had the cheapest, least reliable gear and fished it only seldomly and without any problems. I took up fishing three years ago and went back to that kind of equipment and immediately saw the problems; everything I'd read about "getting what you pay for" was true. And just this year I've found that if you are really interested in a sport it is to your benefit to make an investment that will last you 3+ years, keeping costs in mind. That, to me, is one of the great things about fishing: it can be done very cheaply or more intensely, with expense being less of a concern. And there's also a great deal of play in between those areas. As such, I've enjoyed my few experiments with fishing equipment and can make a few recommendations. First, assess your needs as an angler. If you plan on fishing only when your time allows, which may be 10 or fewer times per fishing season, then don't consider any combination of rod and reel over $50. Second, if you are more interested in fishing more than that, do yourself the favor of learning about the sport before making a major purchase. That may seem easier said than done, but there are a number of very good internet resources available. That said, some of them are in the business, it seems, of being slightly vague about techniques and equipment. However, many of them are reliable even when they are trying to sell a product. (Cabelas has a number of very informative buyer's guides.) Third, whenever possible try equipment out before making a purchase. This means fishing with someone who has a lot of gear; no in-store experience is going to be a good substitute. This applies to both rods and reels, though it is most valuable with reels--there is no way of telling how line will come off a spool unless you cast it yourself. All told, this sport, like many, probably benefits most from its social aspect. Without it the sport would be far less advanced, a whole lot less fun, and less worth doing.

Champion's Choice, Part 1

In about two weeks I'll be headed to Oneida Lake to be a B.A.S.S. marshal at the final regular season Elite Series event of the year. I got the call about two weeks ago that a spot opened up for me (I was on a wait list for months) and jumped at the chance. I'm only entered for the first two days, with the possibility of a third day--again, a wait list process. Since I have limited resources (i.e. money), this is, to me, a pretty unique and precious opportunity to take a nice vacation and learn from the best bass anglers on the planet. The 2010 Elite schedule was released recently, and as with last year's annoucement revisions have been made; there will be no event in the northeast, as the Lake Champlain tournament was canceled for the second year in a row. That makes this chance at riding with the pros all the more valuable. Though I don't plan on being present for the final weigh in (again, money being what it is), I do plan on soaking in as many aspects of the process as I can. I have a short list of questions I'd like to ask the anglers I'm paired with. Among them are: Given that you're fishing such large bodies of water, how do you narrow down your choices of where to fish and how do you determine which spot looks better than another? What do you do in the off-season and how much do you fish? When preparing for a tournament how much time do you put in on a given body of water before it goes off-limits? How do you address (or did you address) your weaknesses as an angler? (I somehow don't imagine these guys as having weaknesses, in the sense that the rest of us think of having weaknesses.) And I think I may even ask a couple guys how sick of fishing they get during the season, if at all.

My fascination with crankbaits

I have to admit a fascination with crankbaits. For some reason I find it interesting that so many companies can make something that looks so much like what the next company makes, with a similar action, similar color and simlar price and somehow be "the" crankbait company on the market. To me, part of the joy of being a fisherman is the tackle, the "thingness" of it; and crankbaits are, to me, the pinnacle of an angler's obsessions. Something made by Rapala does not act like a Mann's, or a Norman's lures, or a Strike King lure, or a Bandit lure. Yet they each catch fish, for seemingly indescribable reasons. Obviously, the angler throwing them levels the field. Yet to me the mystery of the difference is part of the beauty.
One thing that doesn't seem too mysterious to me is their application. They seem to be a lure best suited to a specific set of conditions. Cranks are obviously a noise emitting and water displacement lure, making them well suited to stained water conditions. They're also great deflection lures, producing strikes on hard structure (like submerged timber), especially when cranked from a distance. Where they're not so great is weeds, which is where my frustration comes in. I come from the northeast, where smallmouth are more prevalent but where largemouth are easiest to catch in small ponds. A lot of the small ponds I fish are full of weeds. Let me say that again: a lot of the ponds I fish are FULL of weeds! This does mean lots of fish--I caught a giant (near 4#) pickerel yesterday--but it also means a lot of hours of picking weeds out of hooks. The only solution I've found, especially if you're fishing from shore, as I am, is to become a better angler and "find" the fish. This means fishing the edges of weeds and creating a reaction strike. And this, too, is a mystery to me, which is also a bit of a frustration. How many hours can somebody fish without catching anything and still be happy? My limit is somewhere around 3 hours, sometimes a lot less. But I have a tough time not wanting to tie on something that looks so enticing . . .

World Record Largemouth

News of a possible world record largemouth being caught on July 2 has raised a lot of debate over the meaning of the catch and its legitimacy, and for good reason. With everyone's eyes firmly fixed on California, to see a possible record-sharing bass come out of Japan has not only surprised many but caused a few to wonder at the definitions of a record breaker as well as the possible impact of such news. What is even more surprising is that while the catch has definitely caught our attention its impact has been dulled by its coming from outside the United States. Personally, I think this is less a matter of our own vanity and more a matter of the differences between what sport fishing means to us and what it means to the Japanese. While it is understandable to some to hear of Japan's policy of largemouth bass being an exotic species and therefore illegal to release after capture (carp, native to southeast Asia, is termed a "nuisance" species here in America), this status has to be taken into consideration when thinking of the importance of this recent catch. That the largemouth is an unwanted fish in Japan may immediately cause one to think that a record-breaker is less likely to be found there, making such a catch all the more impressive. In other words, if less fish are released, the less likely they are to reach record size. Yet if this is considered to be true then our loosely termed definition of gamefishing would have to somehow be altered: it would be more "sporting" or challenging for us to keep larger fish and make it harder for record sizes to be caught. Of course, this isn't the case, and most bass anglers would agree that fishing pressure makes catching large bass more of a challenge. Also worth considering is the fact that nuisance or exotic species are not fished for enthusiastically by the public, possibly because they are "bad" gamefish, of little to no food value, or an unwelcome competitor to native species. This last point--what is native and what isn't--is of the utmost importance. Who determines the importance of sustaining native species, and for what reason? We should probably also consider that many of the species we're fishing for in the United States are shared with Canadian anglers, often with far differing success and impacts on sustainability. At any rate, news of record-sized fish opens a pretty complicated discussion.

Baitcasting reels

My history with baitcasting reels is pretty young--I got my first at the end of last season, a Daiwa Megaforce, and my second just last week, a BPS Pro Qualifier. What amazes me about the difference between the two is how Daiwa, a company with a long history, can actually make, market, and sell a reel that casts so badly. The braking system is virtually non-existant, as it only has a magnetic brake that works toward the end of the cast, essentially limiting casting distance. After just two days of using the Pro Qualifier I can see what I was missing: a piece of essential fish-catching equipment that can be used without fear. The Megaforce always had me worried about the next backlash, which happened about 1 out of every 3rd cast. I can understand the need for a magnetic brake, as the spool definitely can continue to spin after a lure hits the water. But to me that is the easier part of the cast to control. The Pro Qualifier really has the best of both worlds. It also just feels a lot stronger and durable.

Something else I have yet to discover with baitcasters is just which types of lures it is best suited for. Without getting overly specific, I decided I'd stick with the heavier lures I have in my tackle box. Sometimes after reading articles by the pros I get a little confused: angler x says he uses spinning gear for suspending jerkbaits, but angler y will use a baitcaster for that; or angler a will use a baitcaster for topwaters when angler b prefers spinning gear and a rod with a lighter action to cushion the blow of an aggressive topwater bite. As an admitted beginner, I'd rather keep it simple: shorter, lighter rods with smaller spinning reels for lighter lures, and so on up to the baitcaster for the heaviest lures and the heaviest line I'll use. After years of experience I could imagine refining things. Until then, the basics seem to hold best.

"I contain multitudes . . ."

These words, by American poet Walt Whitman, might well be applied to bass fishing. One of my favorite things about the sport is its sheer variety and never-ending list of challenges and approaches to those challenges. Byron Velvick, who finished a very respectable 11th at Smith Mountain Lake on the latest stop of the Elite Series, wrote of the terrible weather for the Northern Open at Chesapeake Bay in Maryland April 16-18. Throw into the mix an ever-changing pattern of tidal shifts and cold weather and it's no wonder that '91Classic Champion Ken Cook (who won that Classic on that same body of water) skunked not one but two days of the tournament. This reminds that even to a seasoned professional angler there are times when the variable get the better of the fisherman.
If I had to name my biggest pet peeve that I feel is outsidemy realm of control (other than my inexperience), it'd have to be access to bodies of water. I suppose a lot can be done to change that, such as lobbying or even simply asking private landowners for access to waters bordering their land. But who hasn't felt the sting of envy or anger of a child on Christmas who didn't get what he asked for at the knowledge that no matter how great the fishing might be on Lake X he won't get a chance to fish it because there's no public access. I guess the remedy, if there is one--other than simply finding a different place to fish--is patience. That and persistence.

Blue Ridge Brawl

What can you say about KVD that hasn't already been said? The guy is, simply put, a machine. Just when you think he may be out of it, he puts together a big bag or a string of solid days and somehow ends up at or near the top of the field. One thing I'd like to do on this blog is interview Elite Series anglers from time to time (if, of course, they're willing!), and I'd love to hear some suggestions for questions to ask some of these guys. In fact, if anyone would like to suggest anglers to contact, that'd be great too. A few things I'd love to pick KVD's head about are: structure fishing, since he seems to be able to find that "spot within the spot within the spot"; power fishing and how he defines it (this seems to be an overused and misused term in fishing, and I'd love to hear his response to how he's been called the definitive power fisherman); spinnerbait retrieves, since he's also known as a skilled spinnerbait angler; and how to get fish when the bite gets tough. I sometimes wonder how it is a single guy can be so versatile? Is there anything he can't do with a fishing rod?

Welcome

Welcome to Bassaholics Anonymous, a blog dedicated to bass fishing at the pro, amateur, and recreational levels. Your author is an avid newcomer to the sport who has caught the bug of bass fishing. I'm writing from the Northeast, so much of what I have to say will be concerned with our seasons. But I will also be posting opinions and responses to other articles, sites, and tv shows about fishing around the country. Any responses are kindly welcomed--though I do hope everyone will be polite and courteous.
Thx,
BA