Change is inevitable...as soon as you think you've figured it out it'll change...never fails.

The past couple of weeks the weather hasn't been pleasant...It's been cold, windy and wet. Believe it or not for a fisherman there is one thing that was positive about it...the weather and the water temperature were consistent. The fish had to eat and once I found them, they were there everyday in the same area, doing the same thing. Although I was freezing my tail off, soaking wet and beat down by the wind, I was catching fish. Something I chalk up as a minor success towards my preparation for the KBF tournament.

  I have fished a particular lake for the past 5 days and I covered days 1,2 and 3 in the last blog but day 4 a friend of mine from Atlanta came up to fish the morning with me. We went out to where I'd caught a couple of good fish and set up shop. After  a few of hours and about 4 dinks (dinks are very small Bass) I caught a 22" largemouth that exceeded 6 pounds. On our way back to shore my friend picked up a nice 5lb fish...but this fish was a good bit shallower than any of the rest I had caught through the week....Was this a hint as to a change in pattern or was she just shallower for no good reason? These are the questions I and I assume  other fishermen ask themselves when trying to pattern a lake. On that particular day the sun was out and the fish was caught on the windward side of the lake...water temp was about 2 degrees more at 46 -47°. The fish was in 4' of water and every fish I'd caught previously were located 100 yards away in the 8-10 foot range, they all hit the same bait though.  The problem and it is a big problem...I only started wondering about the why's and where's of that fish today...because I only caught dinks today in the 8-10' water... I have to be proactive and ask myself these questions on the fly.

This morning I fished all over the lake's 8-10' sections and completely ruled out that water. Today's conditions were warmer, cloudy with a good wind but the water temp was 50 and in some places 51. Is that a big enough difference in conditions to change the pattern? I believe so. I can't fish tomorrow as a matter of fact,  it'll be Friday before I'm on the water again but if I were going tomorrow I'd throw a spinner bait or small swim bait in the shallower 3-6' sections of water.
In the past two weeks (10 days fishing) I've caught 6 fish weighing from 5-8lbs. Not bad and to be honest the best string of bass fishing that I've ever had but isn't good enough because...
• although I'm having fun...I'm preparing for a tournament. The biggest tournament I've ever had a chance to compete in and only on one of those days did I have a respectable limit.
• I could've caught more if I would've thought quicker and noticed a few subtle or not so subtle clues.
• I found that a lot of today I was making blind casts on covered ground.
Why?...things changed and I didn't.

  So, here is the scenario... I get up to Kentucky lake and find fish early in the week but a cold front moves in and changes everything  causing thevfish to leave or change their feeding habits on day 1 of the tournament. What do i do?...The easy answer is to scrap the plan I had and go to deeper or different water. The problem is my confidence level that I had gained from the hypothetical fish I'd caught earlier in the week is now a hindrance. Confidence is a great thing to have most of the time but when it's in a plan that was once working but no longer is will definitely lead to disaster if I handle it like I did today. I would've spent most of, if not all of the day trying to salvage what I had confidence in. The end result would be the age old excuse...they weren't biting. Although sometimes, they really aren't biting, I can not be sentimental when it comes to my confidence. To use some age old adages, I have to read the writing on the wall and I can't beat a dead horse. I'm seeing more now than ever before that this is a game of patterns...that will end, changes that will happen...when you least expect it and patience that you'll have to throw out the window sometimes so you can make something happen.

Easy as pie...yea right!

Thank you for taking the time to read my blog and I'd really love to read your thoughts about my blog, your general location and any suggestions. Peace

MAVERICK

mav·er·ick  (măv′ər-ĭk, măv′rĭk)
n.
1. A person who shows independence of thought and action, especially by refusing to adhere to the policies of a group to which he or she belongs.

Kayak fishing...seems like a vanilla activity. Probably reserved as a stepping stone for a person on their way to buying a bass boat or a cool Hells Bay skiff. Truth is, most Kayak Anglers I know hate a motor and would sell a motor boat if given one.

This is more than a sport or a hobby. Just going fishing is boring to most of 'em. It's the added challenge of fighting the wind, strategically maneuvering so your drift gets you on the exact line to fish an area. It's feeling the water as it sprays in your face at every paddle stroke. It's the challenge of handling a paddle with four fishing rods and 6 boxes of tackle from a fixed position in a space the size of a love seat...all while making a cast every few seconds. The challenge, the cold, the complete exposure to the elements...the drive to catch that fish makes them what they are...Mavericks...It's more than a hobby.

       
   For Those About to Rock...

I feared getting old when I was a young boy. Reading the newspaper, napping and cutting grass was not what I looked forward to doing, then there was the dread of croaking. I said I’d never grow up and I believe, so far, I’ve been pretty successful
I have always been an imaginative soul, never bored and always had something to occupy my mind. Whether it be fishing, hunting, exploring, music, surfing and the list goes on (yes, I live in the foothills of the Appalacians and I’ve owned three different surfboards) I have always had fun or knew what I needed to have fun. As a teenager I took a left turn and turned to alcohol on many occasions to have fun which eventually caught up to me about 12 years ago with a not so fun period of my life. Hey, I like hotdogs and orange koolaid but I’d rather partake in said meal at my house…not the big house.

So, now I’m almost 50. I’m getting old and the fear I had about aging was to much surprise...a hoax. My imagination is still there but my interests are not as broad. I only kayak fish and I’m still a music junkie. I’m 49 and still love rock music as loud as my car stereo will go and I fish a lot. I work a part time 60 hour a week job at the local paper mill that pays the bills and a full time job with no pay…fishing. I don’t read the news paper and I pay the kid next door to cut the grass.

When you hear that getting old is a bad thing, I call bull$##t. I have more fun now than I ever had in my teens or twenties and my recipe is a combination of that imagination, passion, some how keeping a working amount of that childhood innocence and an overly patient wife, which I am blessed to have.

We only have so many heartbeats in the old ticker and my plan is to be doing what I love and not what I loathe when that last one finishes.

For those approaching the golden age... Prepare to rock. Peace and thank God for little plastic boats.

Maybe the Best Turkey Hunt Ever

 

  His parents are some of my closest friends and there was a connection with this boy that I had that was different...I saw a bit of myself when I was that age. He was obsessed with the outdoors and I can relate with anyone on that level regardless of age. I told his dad I'd take him and they met me at my hunting club's gate, much like other people would drop their kid off at baseball practice.

  At sunrise we set up on an oak flat after locating 3 gobblers on the roost. They were a couple hundred yards away and gobbling at my calls. We heard em fly down off of the roost then they were quiet. Assuming they were coming to us we got ready...an hour later we heard hens and I knew our plan was ruined(for anyone that doesn't turkey hunt, the Hunter imitates a hen and the Tom comes to find a girlfriend. Mix in a real hen calling and its hard to compete...I'm not that good to compete with a live hen) I told chase we'll ease up on that ridge and set up. My idea was a Jake(young male turkey) may've be left out of the fun and we could trick him. We crept up through a thicket and were on the spine of the ridge. To our left was an extremely steep 75yd drop to some backwaters of the Coosa river, to our right was the edge of a thicket and the spine we were on and left side had large hardwoods growing.

   Me and Chase were talking about our new plan when I noticed movement down the spine about 100yds, it was 2 turkeys, we sat down next to the nearest tree. Chase was a couple yards in front of me and I started a yelping sequence on my slate call. I honestly didn't know if they were hens or toms until they turned towards us. We watched them strut and jocky for the lead all the way down that spine . One had a 5-6" beard and the other was "the man". At 14yds the big one strutted and when he dropped out of his strut....Boom!!! Chase's little 20gauge turned that turkey over on his back. He jumped back up and started running to our left (towards the steep hill and water) and took flight. 2 more shots from Chase's gun and the turkey disappeared over the edge. I remember Chase yelling "He's getting away!!!" I thought, "Not if I can help it", as I started over the edge of that hill at a full sprint. The big Tom was rolling down the hill a ways in front of me and ended up landing in the water. I didn't slow down and lept into the backwaters to grab his bird. Standing there in knee deep water admiring this creature, completely overwhelmed with adrenaline I hear,(pardon the profanity) HOLY SHIT!!!! To my left about 50 yards away is a bass boat. The fisherman said he wished he had that on video...I can only imagine all that happened from his point of view. I told the fisherman an 11 year old boy up on the ridge had killed it and hurried back up to Chase. I watched a boy truly appreciative of his trophy. 11 3/4" beard 1 1/4 spurs and big. What a hunt! What a hunt! WHAT A HUNT! ...Also, somehow I broke a finger on my trip down that hill. I can't imagine a more eventful hunt by myself but being able to share the day with a young'un made it remarkable.

Fisherman First Aid

When I arrived at the ramp today my buddy Jesse was waiting on me. He had caught a nice bass and when he tried to lip the fish it went wild and hooked Jesse in the thrashing episode... buried a #4 gama treble up to the bend. He successfully released the fish, cut the O ring and had been unsuccessfully working on the hook for the better part of an hour with his pliers. He asked if I could help.

I was a boy scout from age 7 until 17 and I had read the handbook cover to cover numerous times. The line yank hook removal technique had always interested me. It looks like it’d be pretty dang painful. This technique requires only one tool…a length of fishing line. Odds are if you’re thinking about removing a hook from you or your buddy, some line is within arms reach from you.  I like to get a piece of braid about three feet long and double it up. Place the double line behind the hook and run the two tag ends through the loop on the other end and have the victim press down on the eye of the hook as hard as they can stand. Slide the loose slip knot down the hook as close to the skin as possible and tighten up on it. I like to wrap the line around my hand…make sure that the victim is pressing on the hook eye, this is very important. Next I tell them I’m going to count to three but before I finish saying the word “one” I yank that string like I own it, as quick and hard as I can. This will only work on rigid body parts…fingers, hand, feet, leg, scalp etc. If the hook is in the nose, ear lobe, lip etc. It’s best to push the hook all the way through and cut the hook point with barb off with your pliers then remove the hook the way it went in, If it’s in the eye…take a picture, post it on Facebook and take the unlucky soul to the hospital.

The hook came out of Jesse’s finger in text book fashion, he put some Neosporin on the wound and fish the rest of the day.

I’ve done this three times in my lifetime…two of them this year and none of the victims said they actually felt any pain. Familiarize yourself with this technique because it can save a trip to the hospital and get you back on the water quickly.

Introduction..."The Creek Chubb Chronicles"

 

  What I enjoy most about kayak fishing is the adventure that goes along with targeting a particular type of fish, making a plan and then pursuing it. In the coming months I invite you to join me as I seek out my personal best in several species of fish. I'll be limiting myself to kayak fishing totally public water and no use of a guide. Public in my book is defined as state or federally owned or managed water with a minimal parking fee…normally $5. All of these trips will be in a days drive from my home.

  A rough rundown of my search would be:

Largemouth Bass – my largest to date is 24” long caught from Rocky Mountain Public Fishing Area.

Smallmouth Bass – my pb is 19” from lake Blueridge. This is one of the few fish that I’ll have to travel for. Pickwick Lake will be my first choice to try.

Spotted Bass – my pb is 21” from the Coosa River. I have a world class lake within 2 hours drive that’s rumored to hold spots to 10lbs…Lake Burton. I’m also going to double up on this one by going after a PB river spot in the Coosa River Basin.

Shoal bass – my current pb is a dismal 17” and The Ocmulgee river will be where focus my efforts.

Striped bass – my pb is 28” and the Etowah River will be the place.

I'd also like a rematch with a tarpon of any size. 

  I think this will first and foremost be fun, secondly I hope it to be educational for me as well as with the reader. I’ve got a year to do it and I’ll write about it shortly after I complete one. 

The name of this series will be “The Creek Chubb Chronicles”. This name is significant because as a kid I religiously chased these little undesirable trash fish in several creeks around my hometown. With a cheap Zebco 202 on a solid fiberglass rod and a couple pieces of bread as bait I was happy catching these little fish but I dreamed of one day chasing the biggest fish around. Tuesday I start the trek. I hope you’ll follow along. Peace

Thank God for Little Plastic Boats

  One year ago today a buddy and I were standing by his truck after the inaugural 2016 Kayak Bass Fishing National Championship, he had come in second and I had placed fifty third out of two hundred and fifty six kayaks. He asked, “When do you want to start preparing for next year?”…tomorrow was a mutual agreement.

Its now next year, 13 days before the 2017 Kayak Bass Fishing National Championship. We’ve practiced with monastic obsession, this competition has been on my mind every day. I’ve studied maps, talked to locals, practiced on my weaknesses and strengthened my strong points. I’ve made the four and a half hour drive up there to look around and I feel good about my abilities…it's up to the fish now.

Here’s the God’s honest truth…I don’t like to dance but I can’t wait for this dance. I feel like I’m one of those old coon dogs chained up behind the house, it’s almost dark, I know we’re going hunting tonight. My chain is tight, I can hardly breathe, I’m on my toes with slobber coming out of my mouth…keeping the chain tight because I’m ready to be “turnt' loose” it’s not because I’m certain of victory, not that at all…it's passion and because I get to play the game that I love.

                                         Thank God for Little Plastic Boats!