Monday November 12th was just like any other day, well almost. It's three days before the upcoming Bassmasters "T" at Oroville, and I’ve just gotten home late the night before from a fairly successful weekend tournament trip to Shasta. No pre-fish. I just showed up at Shasta and caught lots of bass doing what I do best, which is tossing a variety of jigs. Heck, a 17th place finish out of 100 guys wasn’t too shabby on Shasta going into the next Bassmasters tournament coming up on Oroville.

Normally, on this first official practice day for a BASS event, I’d be out on the water. But due to the events of September 11th in New York, the software company I work for in California was forced to make a staff reduction due to a couple of contract cancellations. This affected me greatly, as I was moved into a position that required me to be in the office more, working our software support line. We also lost all our vacation for the remainder of the year. So here I was at work, cursing the Bin Ladens, the terrorists of this world, and their despicable acts which caused me to miss my first practice day for Oroville.

I was pissed off as I worked that day, but it also drove me to succeed. You see, that day in the office, I focused on the fishing I could not do, and it gave me the time to formulate and thoroughly think about how I wanted to approach this Oroville event. How I wanted to approach the remainder of the year on the Bassmaster Western trail. It allowed me to reflect on how I’d done at Shasta and how I could apply that to the Oroville fishery. It allowed me to think and reflect on the past, how I had fished Oroville in previous years when the water was down as low as it was at this moment. I absolutely love fishing our western lakes when they have no water in them. The better fish would be positioned in areas that I could more easily target them. Under low water conditions, I knew I would find them shallow and I knew I could catch them on jigs. I never thought about winning Oroville at this point, but I felt that I was going to fish well and have a great week.

Jeez, after finishing 113th at the last BASS event on the Columbia River, where else could I go but up, right? I hit absolute rock bottom at the Columbia. It was the worst tournament fishing experience that I’ve had in my entire career, and it almost eliminated my ultimate dream.  There would be no way I could make the Classic through the Bassmaster Western Opens, no way. And I had already blown my chance to get to the Classic via the BASS Federation by showing up late for the day one meeting at the California State Championship. I wasn’t going to give up though, just chuck in the towel like so many others do. I could still make the Top 20 and qualify for the Tour (previously known as the K-Mart 150s) by fishing smart and hard through the next three events. It was my only way.

On Monday, November 12th, sitting in my office to work the software support line, I made a major goal adjustment and re-directed my focus for the rest of the tournament season. This was a big turning point for me. It toughened me mentally. I needed that far more than a practice day on the water.

Monday evening I spent getting my equipment ready. My own boat was laid up, and I was fortunate to have one of my sponsors, WesternBass.com and Tony Stoltz, be so kind as to loan me a boat for this event. What this forced me to do was to limit the amount of tackle I would take to less than I would have brought on my own boat. Fortunately for me, my strategy was going to be simple for Oroville: Throw Jigs. I packed my jig bag, every single Yamamoto single tail grub and Hula grub I had on the shelf, my bag of Zoom lizards and Carolina rigging accessories, plus a few Spooks, spinnerbaits, Lucky Craft rip baits and I was off to bed at 9:30 PM with the anticipation of a great night’s sleep and an early start in the morning.

Tuesday morning I was up bright and early as I had a few errands to run prior to leaving town. Unfortunately, these took longer than I had expected, so by the time I arrived at Oroville and the Bidwell launch ramp, it was 2:00 PM. I almost chose to not launch, go find a motel instead, but I justified the 2 hours I could spend on the water would at least help me eliminate an area for Wednesday's practice day. So I dropped the boat in and idled around the corner to check out the Bidwell Canyon Arm. Sometimes the Bidwell Arm is good to me and at other times it’s spotty. I figured I would have a good idea in 2 hours if I would include this area in my tournament plans - or not. I also knew, that if I got on them in Bidwell, it would be a good clue for how I would plan tomorrow’s practice day throughout the rest of the lake.

The lake level was way low. I took notice of how most of the Bidwell points were down where there is very little hard bottom under water, and it was mostly orange or dark red mud. This one particular point I fished first had a few scattered yellow rocks on it though, and a small gully trough created by recent rain run-off. As subtle as this seemed, it would become a very important factor in what I would be looking for the rest of the tournament week - "nothing" banks with a subtle change at the water line that carried below the surface. My first cast to the bank, I tipped a ½ oz rubber skirted football jig with an olive green Strike King Baby pork frog. It had landed in less than two feet of water, directly on the point. Two subtle shakes and nothing. I then gave it a good "pop". Whoa, what a violent KERTHAP that was as it  was just engulfed by a fish. Fishing with an exposed hook, and one of my high graphite Cameron CGR663 rods, I only needed a slight pop of the rod tip to assure the fish was there, and did she get mad at me for KERTHAP'in her back! She took off for deep water and the metal buoy cables anchoring the nearest houseboat. Amazing how smart these fish are, as this happens way too often to consider it a coincidence. I knew she was a big fish, and they always seem to find a way to get loose. She wrapped me around that cable, and was doing her best to saw me off. Thank goodness I was using that Sugoi fluorocarbon, as I was able to hold on until I got the trolling motor moving and the boat beyond that cable. This fish finally gave up when she realized she had lost the battle. I was shocked to see a fat, golden smallie on the end of my line, well over 4 pounds, maybe more.

I returned her after examining every inch of her perfect bronze body, and those BIG RED eyes. What a beautiful fish. I’ve never caught a smallie like this at Oroville, mostly spots and some largemouth. However, I would catch many more bronzebacks throughout the week and some hybrid smallie/spotted bass as well.

I then proceeded to move to the inside of this point and to the "Vee" wash in the back. Nothing, although, I did get a slight tap down the center of that wash in about 24’. I had heard this was the magic depth that many guys were catching fish over the last month on Oroville, but it sure took much too long to get down there with the ½ oz jig. I made a mental note to try a heavier jig, but did not tie one on - yet. As I fished back out and around the next point, I noticed a distinct rock formation along the south side of the next point. It was on the inside of the exposed point, between the wash in the back and the very tip of the point. I gut across straight to it and laid that jig-n-pig right onto the bank at the water line. KERWAP again! Jeez, I tossed that jig into less than a foot of water, and this fish crushed it before it even hit bottom. And it was a good one, a gleaming 2.5 pound spotted bass.

I’ve now resolved in my first 20 minutes of fishing that I need to be looking to the shallow, subtle changes on these points and humps back here. The last fish also made me notice something. There were a number of small holes about the size of a baseball right on the bank where it crushed me. Pulling closer, I could see a couple of the holes in the water. As I hit the trolling motor to move away, a nice bass bolted off the bank in a cloud of clay. "Hmmm," I thought.

These fish are up shallow rooting craws! I remember a number of fish I caught at Shasta, they literally had no lower lips as if someone had sawed them off with a file, raw and bloodied. That’s how much effort they were putting into rooting up craws. I’m loving every minute of this. I proceed further towards the back and stop on another point with a steeper drop-off and some nice rocks right at the water line, and I see two of those distinct little holes. I cast up, bounce the jig down to about 6 feet and KERWAP! Nice fish, easily a 3 pound spot. Tossed the jig right back at the same spot and I get whapped again. Another good spot, a clone of the last one.

Now I can see some fish on the graph, hanging on this point. So here’s my chance to check out a number of other baits. I try the 3/8 oz football jig with the 157, 164, 208 & 209 single tail grubs. No takers. I grab my ½ ton football jig with a Yamamoto double tail Hula grub, tossing 176, 157, 214, and 194 with nothing. Then I put on the 297 Green Pumpkin and get clobbered right on the bank. Although I miss catching that fish, it told me what color they wanted. My jig-n-pig and this 297 Hula bait are very close in color resemblance. I grab the jig-n-pig, this time on a 1/4oz jig. Nothing. I toss the 3/8 jig-n-pig. Nothing. So I pick up the ½ oz jig-n-pig, toss it at the exact same spot I caught the previous two fish. I catch another clone!

I listened to those fish. They had just spoken a lot about what they were doing (rooting shallows for craws) and the weights, styles and colors of jigs they wanted to kerwhap. If the banks were simple and plain, I never got bit. Toss in a subtle change, be it rocks or some form of a wash out, and I got bit by a good, solid fish. I was amazed at the quality of fish I was finding back here,  and tickled that I never saw another boat! So I decided to get out of there with my newly-discovered secrets intact. Pack it up and go find a motel room.

On my way out, I saw a very interesting point that looked a lot different than all the rest in Bidwell, yet there are other points like this in other sections of the lake. So what the heck? I stop, drop the "T" motor and pitch that jig-n-pig up there. As it bounced down to about 3-4 feet, I feel this very soft crunching bite. Hmmm, not like any of the bites I’ve had today, but I do recognize this...kind of like a catfish. As I set and give her the customary "pop" of the rod tip, this fish just slowly moves off the bank about 10 feet then kind of stops and begins to roll. I am certain now she's a big catfish. So I put a little more pressure on and she decides to make a run. WHOA! She just starts peeling the 16# Sugoi off that ABU 4600UC, like pulling a loose thread off the hem of a woven blanket. She stops and just sits there. So I slowly pump and reel against the dead weight as she’s pooped now, but it’s a big cat and I’m waiting for that last run. They never give up that easily. This one did though, and when I saw it, I was in total shock. It was a HUGE largemouth. She bottomed out my scale at 12 pounds. My thoughts and confidence really began to soar at this point. Now I’m thinking, "Maybe I can win this thing."

Now I’m heading for the ramp. It's late. I need to get off the water. This was a dream-like day, and I need to go find a motel room and settle in. I talk to a few guys at the ramp. I speak to Fred Preston in the parking lot, longtime friend and Nutcase who lives up this way and fishes Oroville a lot. He assures me it wasn’t going to take much to win this event from a weight standpoint, probably less than 27 pounds for three days. He didn’t believe anyone could sustain a 9 pound daily average. You don’t think that didn’t make my day? After telling him how my day went, including the 12 pounder, I knew it would be best to isolate myself for the rest of the tournament. I’ve got this very big mouth when it comes to sharing info about catching fish, so I figure the less I am exposed to guys, the less info I will leak out about what I have been doing. Finding a room at the Villa Court Inn for $50 a night was perfect. Aaron Martens, Bret Hite and Mark Rizk were also staying there. It was amazing how much of a listener I became, while hanging out with them guys. [grins]

After talking to the Bennett bothers at the check-in that evening, there was this great buzz going around about a 12 pounder having been caught. I bite my tongue and pretend I was not the one. In line with Rob Vander Koi, he nudges me aside and says, "Yeah Cooch, I made the same mistake today and on a wry cast got an 8+ myself today." Thank goodness I was at the front of the line and could leave the check-in early. I got checked in, went and visited the Flowmaster gang and had a great meal once again on them. They host a feast at every event and I can’t emphasize how much that is appreciated by the anglers. And then it was off to my room where I made one change. I remove the ½ oz football head jig that I was using on my Hula grubs and replaced it with a ¾ oz jig head. I wanted to be able to cover a far greater amount of water in my practice time, as well as fish slightly deeper down to 40 feet in an effort to locate as many back-up patterns as possible.

Wednesday morning at the ramp was a nightmare, I got there at 5:30 AM and the line started about 50 yards past the guard booth. I finally get into the water at 7:10 AM . Hopefully, come tournament morning, this delay would be taken care with the number of boats being halved as anglers pair off. Once launched, I ran straight across to the left of the bridge at the narrow mouth of the Middle & South Fork. Great deep water access here and some good looking points and humps extending out into the water. I caught 5 solid two pounders in nothing flat, using that pig-n-jig, all in less than 6 foot of water. I caught a 6th one bouncing the Hula grub in the middle of a creek channel between two points. This fish came out of about 25 foot of water. The ¾ oz Hula, did exactly what I had hoped it would do.

I then high-tailed it to the South Fork. I fished a few of the big rocky areas at the mouth without a single bite. Then ran back to the yellow sand stone banks. Back here I caught two fish on a sandy flat in about 4 feet of water with my Green Pumpkin 5" Zoom Lizard. Not great fish, but it told me there were fish to be caught on this type of structure. I’ve caught some good ones over the years at Shasta, Folsom and right here with this rig. First back-up pattern has been established! I then ventured up a ways and began tossing the ¾ Ton Hula jig right up to the bank. At first I didn’t get bit, then I began to key on a pattern that started to work. Anywhere on these sandy hard bottom banks, if there was some sort of "Vee" or crack, there would be a decent fish sitting in there. All these fish were smacking that Hula jig the instant it hit the water. I had problems tying these fish into my crawdad pattern of the day before. There was really no place for crawdads to be, no mud holes to speak of at all. But they were eating that Hula jig. These fish weren’t near as big as those that I’d caught earlier or the day before. So I headed up the Middle Fork. I found a similar pattern up there.

One thing I noticed in the Middle and South Forks, I found the rest of the anglers. They were everywhere in these two arms. Now, two years ago, finding the crowd and fishing with them out on those main lake humps was critical to catching the better fish in that event. But the low water level now took away all the spots guys fished two years ago, and they had moved into these two arms and were force-feeding them that same dropshot on the same kind of humps as two years ago, now found high and dry out on the main body. HAR! HAR! HAR! They could have that dropshot stuff, I was out of there and off to find some less crowded areas.

As I was driving up the main lake, I started to hit all the creek channels and washes on the west side. I noticed something very unique about the ones I was able to catch fish on, and again, I was back on those 3 pounders, I caught 5 really good ones between Potter’s and Bloomer’s Ravines. If I found a creek channel that had the big steep pinnacle rocky formation, the dark gray rocks, with the black mud in between the rocks, I found crawdad holes. And I would catch the better fish. I spent two hours bouncing in and out of these creek channels on the main lake and once again, found a pattern within my original pattern. Now I had three solid patterns.

I then ran to the back of the Lime Saddle Marina up the West Branch, where I was able to duplicate both the pinnacle rock pattern I’d just found plus the same pattern I found in Bidwell. Now I had three solid areas to fish, with no other boats around. It was amazing, could it be I actually found something nobody else had found. Or had others found it and were leaving it alone until the actual tournament? Day one would answer this for me. I continued my search to find yet another pattern, which was on the way out of the West Branch when I hung a left into Rich Gulch. A lot of standing timber in the far back, mixed with the mud and chunky rock banks. I found a decent group of fish up on the bank among the fallen timber and the steeper rocks. Not near as good as the fish I found on the main lake, but a solid pattern of fish no less. Besides, they were just clocking the new jig combo that I began to show them. It was my standard 3/8 oz R&B flipping jig, but tipped with the color 180 5" Yamamoto Single Tail Grub.

Next stop was the far back reaches of the North Fork. I wanted to go check out the incoming water up there, as well as an old sunken train tunnel that I knew would be exposed, and the two awesome rocky points at Frazier and Berry Creeks. Turns out, this would be about as far as you could go, no way I would make it to French Creek. This though, is an area where I have caught many largemouth in the past under low water conditions. My first pitch to the train tunnel yielded my first largemouth of the day, a chunky 3 pounder! I fished around the big chunky rock point to the east entrance of the tunnel, but not a single bite on that R&B jig-n-grub combo. So I picked up the ¾ oz Hula jig and tossed it up there and caught yet another 3 pound spot in less than a foot of water! Unbelievable. I caught three more good fish working my way back around that point. Jumping to the point on the other side, I caught yet another 3-pound chunk up shallow.

This area seemed real promising to me. There was plenty of good water up here that I chose not to hit during practice. But more importantly, I was the only one here and it was about 2:00 PM when I decided to leave. I hit a couple of spots on the way out with minimal success until I got to the long finger point at the mouth of the West Branch. A perfect spot to use my C-rigged Zoom lizard. First cast up along that point to the shallows and I got hung up in a rock. As I was trying to shake it loose, I got absolutely clobbered. Next thing I know as I’m trolling towards the point where I was hung up, my line is taking off into the depths of the main river channel. Wow, I've got a really good one on this time! By the time this guy finally gave up, I knew I had one hell of a chance to win this thing. As I hoisted that last pre-fish bass out of the water, I had one heck of a grin staring right at that chunky 4 pound plus freight train of a spotted bass. Let me get the heck out of here and bring on the tournament! 14+ pound limit today, pretty solid stuff I felt. I also felt that by going to that heavier ¾ oz jig head, I started to get more and bigger bites very consistently.

My game plan had become very clear and simple:

1. stay shallow,

2. pound the banks with that ¾ ton jig

3. cover as much water as fast as possible

Pete and I draw out in flight 2C, that gave us a 2:50 PM weigh-in time. For some reason, probably due to the early darkness and the conditions at the ramp, BASS moved the start of the weigh-ins up one hour. Although disappointing, it was equal for everyone. Launching was a piece of cake. BASS had quite a crew down there directing traffic and we were all in the water and ready to go by 6:30, ready for blast-off at at 6:40. We pulled up to our first spot in the back of the North Fork at the train tunnel and only one other boat was up there, on the opposite rock bank. I caught one on my very first cast to the train tunnel, not a big spot, but a 15-16" keeper. I had a limit in the boat in about 20 minutes. They were just clocking the Yamamoto Hula grub. Many of the better fish were right on the water’s edge, but I was also catching fish out to about 18 feet. Very fast retrieve. Peter didn’t know what hit him! He was fishing the Senko the whole time. Finally got him to switch to a jig, and he started to pick a few up.

The boat on the other side vanished around the bend up river, and I crossed over. I culled two fish off that point, not big, but it was only 7:40 and I’d caught maybe 20 fish already. We stayed up there and fished a number of banks, just moving down them real fast with that ¾ oz Jig. By 8:30, I’m culling a fish and notice that there's blood coming out of its gills. Come to find out, it’s my thumb that's gushing the blood! I’ve handled so many of these toothy critters, my thumb is now raw only 1.5 hours into the event. This is a problem I need to resolve. I start to shake them off the hook without even thinking of culling. Those that look obviously close, I’m now grabbing around their backs. I make it through the day though without any further blood loss. Thank God this wasn’t the NBA, or they would have made me sit on the sidelines until the gushing stopped!

Peter asked me about this "One Ton" concept at this point. I explained my concepts behind using it, and that I actually was fishing a variation that I was going to call the "¾ Ton Pick-up" jig. It was a joke at first, but my goodness, those fish were picking up that jig the instant before it hit the bottom or right after my first hop-n-pop. It kind of made some sense as we were talking and laughing about it. I probably caught well over 70 fish that first day. By the time we headed out and started to make the milk run of the main lake cuts, I had about an 8-pound limit including two smaller fish. I culled two more out in one of my cuts (the one with the crawdad holes), and then we had to head in. I was disappointed though. We had not caught any of those really good fish that I had seen during practice. I figured that I was going to be sunk way down in the middle of the pack around 50th place or so.

As we were pulling up the ramp, we began to hear some of the earlier weights. A whole lot of 5, 6 & 7 pound limits. Now I’m starting to think, "Dude, you may still be okay." I get to the check-in stand, and the guys who check my fish both say, Cooch, you have one of the better bags for today, nice limit!. At the scales, Fish Fishburne also comments on my nice solid bag. One of them was a smallie no less. Fish says that’s got me in the top 6, which stuns me as I about fall off the stage. "I’ll take it!" I say, and "Oh by the way, has anyone ever seen a spotted bass thumb?"

I show my thumb  to Fish and explain to the crowd how it happened, as the camera crews do close-ups. Pretty cool, Ole Cooch’s thumb gets more camera time than the fisherman himself. HAR! By the end of the weigh-in, I’m sitting in 11th place with 8 pounds 10oz. COOL! I haven’t even hit my best water in Bidwell yet!

After weigh-in, I draw Levell Sneed for day two. Levell had somewhat of a tough first day with 6lb 2 oz, so he’s way back there in this event. But we both know that a nine pound or better sack will move him right back up there. After discussing our first day, I’m convinced that I’m onto something special. We decide to take my boat and start in Bidwell. We’ll give it four hours after which we'll see if Levell wants to stay. Otherwise, we can make a boat run to his stuff and some of my main lake spots. I have no problems with that.

We draw flight 3A and a 3:00 PM weigh-in for the second day. Fishing with Peter was a treat today, he pretty much let me do what I wanted as we were catching so many fish. I was also looking forward to fishing with Levell. It was the first time I would have a chance to fish with a BASS Western champion.

After Levell and I talked, I noticed there was a portable tackle shop under one of the tents. I went over there to look for some 3/4 oz frog hair jigs with a weed guard. I had lost all 8 of the ¾ oz jigs that DeWayne Bonahm had made for me due to getting hung up on some brush and the jagged rocks. I also lost many of the ¾ oz Footballs that I was using for the ¾ Ton Pick-Ups for the same reason. I knew my bait of choice was going to change from the Hula jig to the standard jig-n-pig in Bidwell on those muddy banks. Looking over the choices, I grabbed all the brown/purple ¾ oz Bite-Me jigs on the shelf! And these had weed guards on them. COOL!  Back in my room, I respooled two brand new ABU Garcia 4600UC cast reels with that 16# Sugoi, and tied one of those Bite-Me jigs onto each of them.

I also made another slight modification, due to something I remembered about Oroville. Something that I had learned from my team partner Pat Dilling and Larry Hemphill, which is that Oroville bass love that 180 bluegill-colored single tail grub! I attached a piece of a 180 grub body to one jig as a spacer to be used ahead of a pork trailer. I then attach the 5" grub in the 180 color all by itself as the trailer for the second jig. We kept hearing it was going to be storming, but in watching the news on the Weather Channel, I could clearly see that a high pressure system sitting over Nevada was forcing the storm’s path to the north so that it was going to bypass us and we’d have bluebird skies for day two. With those kind of conditions, I figured that that dark smoke grub with that green, red & orange sparkle, would be my ticket for strikes. I just had a feeling about this grub! Before bed, I ran off to Wal-Mart to get some medical dressings for my thumb. I needed to keep that sucker protected. It was stinging pretty good and I didn’t want it to bother my sleep. Smart move Cooch! I was in bed by 8:15 PM.

Each morning I was picking my partner up at their hotel. As Levell and I got there in the morning, I gave him one of these Bite-Me jigs with that 180 trailer. I said you throw this, I’m going to start with the pork. It only took 15 minutes for him to have me down 2 to zip before I switched. I never put that jig and 180 grub down for the next two days, whenever I was tossing the jig. Only time I didn’t have it in my hands was when I’d toss that C-rigged lizard out onto a flat, however I just wasn’t catching the right weights of fish on that C-rig.

By 9:00 AM, both Levell and I had a limit in the boat. We decided to stay and just keep the trolling motor down and cover as much water as possible. It was working real well for me as every now and then I’d catch one that would cull. Then we pulled into a cut behind the Bidwell Marina. There was a nice creek channel back there with some outstanding rocky stuff under water. As we pulled around a long finger point, I saw Casey Iwai back there. Darn...and just about that time Levell popped a real good one off the flat of that point in about 10" of water. Double darn!

After netting it and getting it in the boat, I started to head to a point over behind the dock away from Casey. As I approached the dock, I knew I needed to beat Levell to that spot on the point where there was a wash coming right down the center of the point. I made a he-man's heave-ho pitch that was right on target...only to turn and find Levell was sitting down retying his jig anyway! At that instant, I got hammered. Oh man, was I in trouble. I’m hollering for the net as I got a good one. I set up, get a great load on the rod, then lose all contact with this fish as it blasts through the surface and does a summersault, tossing that ¾ oz jig half the distance back to the boat. Dumb move Cuccia. You just lost a 4 pound plus largemouth. There was my tournament-winning kicker. I think most guys would have been heart broken, I just said "Triple darn" and kept fishing. Nothing I could do about it. Levell saw the splash, but could only marvel at how big it might have been. Later Casey would swing by and ask about it too. "That sounded like a monster, Cooch," he said.  "It was, Casey," said I with a tinge of regret at losing it.

Then as we were leaving around that finger point, we ducked inside of a suspended dock. Levell was now dragging his 4" zoom lizard and he too tied into a really good fish. But dang those big fish are smart! That sucker got him tangled around one of those steel cables which was no match for his 6 pound test line. SNAP! Gone! We never got a look at that one, but I have to trust a guy who catches 6 pound smallies to know when he’s got a good one on versus a 15" rat. Oh well, we kept on fishing. We bounced around some points and washes at the mouth of Bidwell and managed to cull a couple of more fish. My limit now is better than the previous day. It’s only noon and we've got a lot of time to go chasing some bigger bites.

After noon, we do some boat riding and hit a few of Levell's areas without a bite. Then we get to one of his better spots down by the dam, lots of boats down here. Again, they are all fishing out much deeper and we slide in between them and up onto the bank. I pick up five decent fish here, but not worthy enough to cull for such a long boat ride. Levell gets bit several times on his lizard but comes up empty on the hook sets. We then make a milk run down my cuts and washes on the main lake. I cull two of my fish out on that dark gray pinnacle-looking rock with the mud and holes in the cracks. My limit is now over 9 pounds and I’m starting to feel something real special. Most of the guys we talk to have indicated that the bite has toughened up. Not true for us, although, I have still yet to catch a fish over two pounds, nowhere near the fish I was catching in practice. But it’s evident, I’m still catching slightly bigger fish on the average with my jig patterns.

While waiting to meet my third and final day's partner, I hear that the two guys who are ahead of me, fellow Yamamoto pro-staffer John Murray who’s in the lead and the 1st day’s leader Ryan Voorhees who is now in second, have drawn each other. Wow, what a tough luck of the draw. Can you imagine that? Now here are two guys who have been at the top all along, have been allowed to fish their own water all day to get their limits, and now they've got to share and fish with the guy right next to them in the standings. This could turn out very sour or possibly work to their advantage. As for me, it sure left me in a position of hoping that it would cause them some problems, not that I would wish that upon anyone, but the obvious indications say this could work out to greatly benefit me.

I meet up with my third day’s partner, Sparky Healy. He’s a local guy who is fishing his very first Bassmasters, and he’s sitting in 8th place, two pounds behind me. This could also turn out to be a tough situation. Sparky wants to take his boat, he’s fishing one deep area up the Middle Fork, at what I believe is called Sycamore Rock and he’s assuring me of an 8-pound limit. But I hold fast and confident. I calmly explain to him that I’m sitting in 3rd and I’m on about a 9 pound average. We’re going to have the camera crew tomorrow, because I’m in 3rd place, we’re going to take my boat and start in Bidwell. I lost a 4 pounder in there today and I’m the one who caught the 12 pounder in there in practice. "Oh?" says he. This is my 14th Bassmasters, and I have the best shot of anyone to win it, I know I can catch the fish in there for me to win a boat. I also know that it holds enough fish that you could catch them as well and move up. I’ll work with you Sparky, give me four hours in there and if it’s not working, I have no problems leaving to run to your fish. You’re catching most of yours in the afternoon anyhow, right? If things are going well and you want to stay, we can do that too. You need to afford me the window of opportunity as the third place guy, to use my boat and give me the first 4 hours. Let’s work together and both of us can take home a boat! He was cool with that, especially once he realized it was me who caught that twelve pounder and I was fishing in Bidwell. He knew all too well of the potential of the fish in Bidwell. I think it also eased him that I was more than willing to work with him if it wasn’t going well.

I then went off to meet with the other top five guys and the camera crew. Quite a bunch of guys, Murray, Voorhees, Cooch, Dobyns, and Batey. For some guys, the camera crew is a big deal in that it can be a disruption actually, but for me it was all part of the dream come true. I had every intention of looking forward to the greatest day in my fishing career. Win or loose, I was going to have some fun with that camera crew. And it started with the introductory shots we took out on the bridge crossing that afternoon. The head guys asked me to step up onto the railing in front of the camera. So I did just that, but not the lower railing, I jumped up onto to the top railing. "Not way up there Cooch." "But you said to jump up on the railing, I only did what you asked." Then one of the camera guys spurts out, "Hey Cooch, how about you give me $100 bucks?" I replied, "Come see me after I win that boat tomorrow!" Talk about cracking the ice and easing the tension, it was only the start of something very special to come.

Getting back to the room and rigging was easy. One rod, the 3/4 oz Bite-Me jigs and the 180 grubs. It was all I was going to need. I was in bed by 7:30 and fast asleep dreaming of victory by 8:00 PM.

As soon as I awoke at 4:00 AM, I went out to the boat and grabbed one of my CGR603 short rods. I tied up a dropshot, just in case. Heck, I drew the guy who is in 8th, who lives here and fishes Oroville quite regularly. Just maybe, I might need this rig. I was planning and thinking ahead, not that I needed to or feared that my pattern would fall apart, but because I thought it was a smart thing to do. I needed to be prepared. Sparky met me at my motel, the Court Yard Inn at 4:50 AM and we were off to the ramp.

Once we launched, we were instructed to head over to the floating dock to meet our camera crew and they would mike us up. As I joked with Keith our cameraman, we talked a little bit about how some guys were uncomfortable with the mike and it gave an advantage to the guys in the back of the boat sometimes. Okay, well, I could tell that Sparky was a little bit unsure and overwhelmed with all of this, there was a bunch of focus on me at the time. I really needed Sparky to feel comfortable, so I was trying to include him as much as possible. Then I got to thinking, hey guys, we got the number 8 guy in this boat too, and he has a great chance and opportunity as well to finish this thing off. It’s his first Bassmasters, let’s mike him too! I don’t want you messing around in the boat if he catches a bunch of good fish and then you decide you want to do it on the water...mike him now! Sparky is really a pretty shy guy, nowhere near as outspoken and forward as me, but he was all for having that mike on at first. Later, as I would learn, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.

We’re in the first flight today. As I did yesterday, my blast-off consisted of idling from the Bidwell launch right around the corner beyond the first set of houseboats. As we started to fish, it suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks. I’m in a Bassmasters, I’m in 3rd place, I have a mike on and the camera is rolling. What an adrenaline rush. I was a ball of nerves that first twenty minutes. Sparky got the first bite on a dart head worm, good fish too, but it came unbuttoned. Oh man, bad deal for Sparkster. You could see it in his attitude. "Let it go dude, it’s early, there are a lot of fish in here like that. Don’t put any added pressure on yourself, just keep fishing." We moved around to a point that had a houseboat sitting on it behind us. Sparky dropped his dropshot rig down and hooked yet another REALLY good fish. It wrapped on the cable and came unbuttoned. I think Sparky lost something at that point. He hadn’t lost a fish all week, then to loose his first two today, and two that were bigger than anything he’d caught so far. I kept on him to hang in there, lots of time left. I was really a bottled up wad of nerves at this point, and totally oblivious to the camera crew.

That all changed when we came to the same spot where I caught the 12 pounder...and I stuck my first fish! A good solid keeper too. It was just the greatest relief I had ever felt. "Five more like this and I’m going to win a boat, guys!" I then cut loose to the camera, limbering up the ole Cooch’s babble box. The rest of the day was unreal, all I did was talk to Sparky and the camera guys. Explaining in details how I was catching them. How the bass were setting up on certain structure, certain points. Every now and then I caught one. I got very good at moving these fish around to the camera side so they had the best shots. I unhooked the fish as I talked directly to the camera, which was at the same time both unreal but totally natural for me. I was having a blast. I told stories, talked concepts, we joked and horsed around all day. And I kept on pumping Sparky to hang in there, kind of playing the big brother type. He was missing fish and getting pretty tense about it.

He finally put a couple in the boat, but it really got bad when he lost yet another really good fish on that darter head worm. That one sunk him, I could see it. He was letting the pressure get to him. He was being affected by how I was fishing so freely and working with the camera crews. It was overwhelming him and I could see that. At one point, the camera crew wanted to climb in and film me from the boat. They had told us this would happen at some point and they were kind enough to wait till I had a limit. I actually had no problems whatsoever and in fact, played it quite well and caught a culler fish for the camera right away. Keith the cameraman got it all on film. But I could see that Sparky was a nervous wreck. Hey Keith, I need to ask you to step out of the boat, you got a great shot right there and ole Sparky here is really being taken out of his game with you in the boat. For his sake, I’m going to ask that you return to your boat. He still needs one more fish for his limit. Keith kindly obliged and Sparky thanked me.

We fished in there for quite a while, I had a fair limit and Sparky was one shy. At this point, he and I sat and talked, had a smoke together. He said "Cooch, I just want one more fish to make my limit, I’ll be tickled to death. This is your tournament bud, you get me that one fish and I’m in heaven". You got it brother Sparky. "We’re heading up the lake and out of this canyon," I hollered loudly to the camera boat As we began to take off, I ducked inside of that same houseboat where Levell had broken off that good one the day before. We lost the camera crew for a short moment as I shut her down and flew to the front and dropped the trolling motor. "Let’s get your 5th fish dude!" First cast to the bank and ole Sparky’s setting up on a fish! Wahoo! You da man! Nice one too. The camera boat was scrambling now, and they caught the last part of me netting it and Sparky adding it to the livewell. Sparky was a changed man the rest of the day. The pressure was off.

We bounced around the lake trying different things, but were never able to cull our bag until the last fifteen minutes when we ended up down at the mouth of the West Branch, We tried flipping some of the wood, nothing. Then we crossed over to a sheer, steep canyon point at the mouth of and on the east side of Grizzly Creek. We got into a good school of fish here. Sparky culled one out, but we were running out of time and had to leave. We had to go, with only twelve minutes to get back. No problems, we’ll make it with plenty to spare. I wasn’t so sure at this point if I’d gotten enough weight to win the tournament, but I was plenty confident that I had caught enough weight to win a boat. It’s amazing, I fished this whole tournament and never caught a fish over three pounds during the event. I’ve left a lot out of what happened on this third day, but you’ll all get to see it in March on ESPN television, which I’m hoping it will be a special introduction of Cooch to the rest of the BASS fishing community. I may not have won it, but I had a blast trying!

As we get to the scales, Fish Fishburne plays that game they play with the leaders. Gene Batey has had a good day with a 9 pound sack. When Fish tells me I’m going to need 8 pounds 6 ounces to take the lead, I tell him I’m going to fall a couple of ounces short of that, all the while hoping and praying, that maybe, just maybe, I’ve underestimated my sack. Oh so close, but one of the few times I have been right on the money. I was merely three ounces shy of first, and in second place. Wow, what a feeling of joy and elation it was at first up on that stage. Talking to Fish and all the people in the audience, holding the bass up for the cameras, it was as I had dreamed! My first dream come true was to fish my first BASS event, I did that three years ago at the Columbia. My second dream come true was to win a boat, and I poised in a position that might allow that to happen. Life was good at that moment. A moment I’ll never forget.

Now I had to play that awful waiting game. I was in the first flight to return, and we had a lot of folks still to weigh in. I no sooner walked off the stage and was greeted with a huge crowd of autograph seekers and journalists, it seemed endless. It helped to pass the time though, as there were still a number of the top guys who were not yet off the water. I went over and hung out with Gene Batey, and we’re both ecstatic. Pat Dilling found me too. "Cool! Huh, Pat!" We were hearing all sorts of rumors at this point, such that Voorhees only had a tiny limit, Murray only had two fish, Dobyns only had a couple at 1:00 PM and Rush had about 7-8 pounds. We stood around watching, nerves on edge the whole time. It then became a reality when John Murray and Ryan Voorhees weighed in. After that, there was nobody that could catch us. Then there was a hush as a guy walked to the stage with a big sack. He had a huge spotted bass, and it went 5 pounds 1 ounce, big fish of the tournament. Uh oh, I don’t know who this guy is, but he busted the scales at 11 pounds 2 ounces. We got the guys name, Luke Clausen. I’m freaking as I search for him on the board. Batey and I are side by side, I find him, and he had 14-09 the first day...oh man! Then they announce Luke's final weight, 25-11, which just falls short and puts him in third place and leaves me in second, Gene in first.. Whew! The dream had become a reality!

I had a blast folks, as much fishing it as I have had retelling it here! Keep the faith in the good Lord and follow your dreams, for there will come a day that He will lead you to live your dreams just like He has done for me.

I am now dreaming of a trip to the Classic by using the next two more Western Open events to get me there! Hope to see you there soon!

Keep A Tight Line!