Casey: “Wouldn’t it be cool if we caught all our fish early and could just cruise back to the ramp and relax for a few hours and drink a celebratory beer?”
Pat: “Dude, that would be awesome. I bet it happens this time.”
And it never does. Anyways, we’ve had this discussion before every tournament for the last three or so years and not once had our plan worked out…until Saturday.
The week before the tournament Pat and I stumbled on some good fish during the NFGFC tournament. We didn’t fish the area for more than a drift, but knew that some good reds and trout (and hundreds of mullet) were hanging in this particular stretch of spotty bottom a few miles from the ramp. But we didn’t go there first. We’d caught good fish at one of Jeff’s spots (our 3rd partner who couldn’t make the rescheduled date, but was with us in spirit) the week before and decided to start in the spot we call the “swimming pool”. We made two drifts through spot #1 and only had an undersize red to show for our efforts. The pool was dry on this day.
We relocated a couple miles to spot #2, a spot in the GPS named “Paycheck” because that place is MONEY. Paycheck was perfect for the SE wind and allowed us to work the shallows for an extended stretch with topwater plugs. Mullet were jumping and even in the chop, you could see the good looking spotty bottom. About 400 yards after we started our drift, I made a long cast with the spook and had worked the plug about 20 feet when there was a good explosion followed by a hookup. We both could tell it was a good trout by the sound of the hit and after a relatively uneventful fight, the fish was netted and went 25” on the ruler. The fish weighed 4lbs, 14 oz on my handheld digital scale. We power poled down, high fived, and as is customary when we put a good fish in the boat, had a celebratory beer. It’s now 9:10 a.m.
We finished the drift and ran back to start the Paycheck drift again. Three casts into the drift, I make a long cast over a sand bar to some good spotty bottom and get about two twitches on the plug when the water around the plug erupts. Pat looked at me and said, “Catch that fish.” This one felt like a red, and a good one at that. Unfortunately the boat wouldn’t float over the sandbar and so we had to power pole down and let the boat straighten out with the wind so that Pat could then run the trolling motor around the tip of the bar…all while I’m fighting the fish. We get the fish to the boat and we’re both saying, “Man, good fish, but I bet he’s over.” After a nice net job by Irwin, we lay the fish on the ruler and he stretches to almost 27”. The red went 6lbs 15 oz on my scale.
At that point, we knew were going to get paid and to be honest, we thought about going in. It was only 9:30 and so we power-poled down and had a celebratory redfish beer.
After our five minute break, we got back to fishing and about 100 yards down the bank, Pat gets a monster hit. I looked at him and said, “I don’t know what that is, but please catch that fish.” Halfway through the fight, we saw bronze and got a profile shot. He looked over and we both said, “Damn good fish, but he’s over,” when we finally put him in the net. We slapped the boga on the fish and laid him down on the measuring board. I had to do a double take when I saw his tail resting on the 27” line. I bet we measured that fish four times on both sides before we screamed like little girls and had one helluva manhug. We put him on the digital scale and he weighed 7lbs 1oz.
So now it’s 9:50 a.m. and we have a 25” trout in the box and a 27” red in the box. The chances of upgrading are pretty dang slim. We catch good fish in the Lanark / Carrabelle area, but 26”+ fish are few and far between in those parts.
We finished our drift and ran back to start the drift again. We caught four or five over 20” trout on the drift, but all were between 21-23”, and I think we pulled two or three more good reds off the school, but our two-man red limit was already in the box. We only had a chance to upgrade the trout now. We get to the end of the drift and we’re talking about where we want to fish next. It’s 11:30 a.m. and we’re ready for some new scenery…we talk about the spots we normally go to and have almost decided on a spot to hit up, when Pat looks up and goes, “Hey man, look at that spot over there, that little plateau is surrounded by deep water, and has mullet all over it. Let’s go check it out.” Ehhh, what the hell, why not?
We idle over, drop the trolling motor and Pat fires his spook down range. Chick, chick, chick, chick, BOOM. Irwin hooks up…power pole goes down and he gets his 22” trout to the boat. I sling the plug out, get a hit and bring a 21” trout to the boat. He unhooks his fish and fires down range again and boom, hooks up. Another 22” trout. I throw up on the sand bar and get about three twitches on the plug and hook up with a decent red, think he went about 25”, but he did bend a few of the ST-41’s in the process. So I have to sit down and change all the hooks on the spook. Meanwhile, Pat’s catching trout left and right…think he caught two or three more over 20” fish and a mid-slot red. I finally get the hooks changed and fire a bomb of a cast down the sand bar, pretty sure all the line went off the reel. I make one twitch with the plug and it disappears in a wall of water. We could barely hear the hit because it was so far out there, but Pat immediately dropped his rod and picked up the net. When you fish with somebody long enough, you don’t even have to talk. We both knew what had just hit the spook…
The first half of the fight was intense, she’d rip a little drag and come up and shake despite me sticking my rod tip in the water. About halfway back to the boat, the fish turned and started swimming towards me. Pat wanted to get a look at the fish and so he stood up on the Yeti behind me. The fish circled the boat at about 20’ out and so we both got a good look at what was attached to the spook. I fought the fish around the motor and PI made an excellent catch with the net. He lifted the fish in the boat, we screamed like little girls, manhugged, and then exchanged a few fist pounds and high fives. I think Pat even did the stanky leg on the front deck of the boat. The fish ended up measuring 27.5” on the measuring board.
So we sat down and had a celebratory beer. It’s 12:30 p.m. and we have a 27” red and a 27.5” trout, and there’s still five and a half hours of fishing time left.
After a quick discussion, we made the decision to head in. We cruised back to the ramp, put the boat on the trailer and headed towards Crawfordville where we could wash the boat. After washing the boat, we drove on to my parents’ house where we dropped the boat off, showered and changed clothes. Pat’s wife came and picked us up and we drove back to Carrabelle in her Tahoe. We ended up winning the tournament by a pound, a blowout considering you could weigh two fish and there were 87 boats in the tournament. We also took home the big trout pot, the big trout Calcutta, the big red Calcutta, and the overall Calcutta. You fish enough tournaments and you realize how much luck is involved, but hey, I’d rather be lucky than good.
Enjoyed it PADS!!!
That was some sweet pair of meathogs.