Like any seasoned competitor, I’ve learned to accept defeat. Not that I like it any more than the next guy, but I can deal with it. When it happens, I always try to learn from my mistakes. And believe me, last year’s BASS Elite Series provided plenty of schooling.
The following are some of the key lessons I learned from that season. Although some were costly, hopefully each will help me, and perhaps you, in future competition. With that said, here’s what I have to share…
Swindle’s Spinnerbait Split-Ring Trick
Twice this year during competition, I broke spinnerbaits on key fish. And both times it cost me huge…$20,000 huge! Sadly, both mishaps could have been avoided…in two simple ways.
The first is obvious; I should have changed baits, at least in one instance. Unfortunately, with a strong bite going, I didn’t want to take the time to dig out a duplicate lure. Yeah, I was aware the wire form might be stressed. But because the bait was working so well, I blew it off.
Big mistake!
It happened while fishing the Elite event at Toledo Bend. Throughout competition the wind blew hard and the spinnerbait bite developed into a primary pattern in my area. I wasn’t catching particularly large fish, just numbers…at least until day-2 when I hooked into one well over five.
Everything was going great. The bass were shallow and aggressive, taking the bait deep. Sometime in the early afternoon I noticed a large flat stump within a cast of the boat. I weaved the bait through some pole timber to the far side, two turns of the reel handle and the fish slammed it. Amazingly, the bass swam through the pole timber directly toward the boat. When I got her close, she stopped, shook her head at the surface, and my spinnerbait broke in half. All I got back were the blades.
The next time it happened we were at Lake West Point. I discovered a strong blade bite around floating docks. Using a dated three-bladed spinnerbait designed specifically for the technique, I burned it just below the surface along the floats. It worked great. Unfortunately, it was the only one I had.
On the second day, just prior to weigh-in, I hooked a keeper spot from the corner of a small dock.
When the fish jumped, the wire gave way. All I needed was seven ounces to make the money ($10K), but like the previous event, the fish swam away with the hooks. I got the blades.
Both were light-wire spinnerbaits designed for maximum vibration. Occasionally, after fighting a few fish, they require reshaping. And that’s where the trouble begins.
Complaining about it to Gerald Swindle, he suggested a quick fix—something so simple it amazed me. He recommended applying a split ring as sort of collar or harness just below the line-tie. By slipping it over the R-bend before tying the knot, the split-ring restricts the wire form from spreading too far. The wire still has plenty of room to flex and pulsate, but it can’t spread to the point of breaking.
It’s the perfect preventative for spinnerbait fatigue and I sure wish I’d known about it beforehand.
Power-Pole—Sea Anchor Trick
During the BASS Northern Open on Lake Erie, I heard about a new and ingenious way to use a sea anchor.
A couple of savvy Great Lakes anglers developed a way to utilize a Power-Pole to deploy the bag. Instead of tethering the bag from a lengthy rope, these guys figured out how to fasten it to a Power-Pole by replacing the factory bolts with ring-bolts. To the ring-bolts they attach a D-ring, which 
secures the bag. Anytime they want to drop or retrieve the sea anchor, they simply lower or raise the Power-Pole.
How cool! This not only saves time, it eliminates a tremendous amount of physical effort.
As you might expect, Erie’s winds blew strong throughout the competition, making sea anchors a necessity. I’m sure the guys who came up with this idea maximized their fishing time and went on to do well in the competition.
Chalk that one up to ingenuity.
SpinShot Simplicity
Another trick I learned at Lake Erie was how to defeat line twist while drop-shotting, using a new hook rig called the SpinShot.
Actually, I first discovered this amazingly simple rig during the ICAST show this summer. Introduced by VMC, the SpinShot won Best of Show in the terminal tackle category and it’s easy to see why. Designers figured a way to insert a tiny swivel inside the eye of a drop-shot hook. The result is a simple-to-use rig that’s guaranteed to eliminate line twist. Better yet, the soft-plastic lure you choose can change directions up to 360 degrees, making it appear much more lifelike than stiffer conventional rigs.
Instead of worrying about forming the perfect drop-shot knot, I simply tie my preferred knot directly to the swivel at both ends. Not only is this simpler, it gives me the option to change line strengths by applying a lighter leader. If the weight gets snagged on structure, I simply break it off and salvage the rest of the rig.
After a week of steady drop-shotting on Erie, I can assure you it works.
Don’t Leave A Good Spot
Twice this season I left the winning spot. Why?—pure stupidity in one case, bad timing in the other.
During the BASS Elite Series event on the Harris Chain of Lakes—an absolute sight-fishing fest—I started in the same canal system as Shaw Grigsby. But due to low skies and blustery winds, I was unable to see the fish. It was the same for Shaw. We spoke around
That night a polar air mass moved over central Florida. Temperatures plummeted nearly 40 degrees into the low 30s. I was convinced the spawn would suffer and that my crankbait pattern would hold up, so that’s what I went with.
Man, what a mistake!
That afternoon, Shaw brought in a five-fish stringer that easily exceeded 30 pounds! Even worse, two other competitors had big catches from the same spot. And yes, you guessed it—it was the very same canal where Shaw and I spoke the day before.
For the next two days Shaw, Grant Goldbeck, and Pat Golden slugged it out in what had to be one of the largest waves of spawning females ever to hit a Harris Chain canal.
Talk about humiliation. Not only did I leave the winning area, but after losing two key fish, I also failed to cash in on my cranking pattern. I cost myself at least $10,000 and some very valuable points.
As if that weren’t enough, a month later I did it again!
During the Pickwick event, I found big smallmouth feeding in the tailrace below Wilson Dam. Boat control was a challenge, but the bite was solid in one particular location. I spent a full day trying to determine the best possible boat position and casting angles, and I had it wired. When I drew out boat number four, I couldn’t believe it. I had the right spot, the right fish, and the right draw—I couldn’t fail. Right? Wrong!
That morning I pulled into the prime location and began my casting routine, quickly putting a decent largemouth in the box. By the time I repositioned the boat, a fleet of other competitors had shown up. It was ridiculous—more than a dozen boats all rail to rail, trying to make the same cast. The crowd killed my confidence in the area.
As the morning progressed, few fish were caught—except for the countless drum that seemed to replace the bass. Apparently the mother lode was gone, or so I thought.
One by one, the other competitors abandoned the tailrace. By
Around 1:30pm I finally put a decent limit of largemouth together and decided to finish the day back at the dam, hoping to upgrade with big smallmouth. As I approached I could see two boats, both sitting on the prime spot. One was Davy, the other Keith Poche. Keith's body language made it clear he intended to defend the spot. I squeezed in anyway. I felt justified, since I was the first boat there in the morning and Keith knew it.
Davy was cordial. He told me he had a good bag of fish and that the bite ended about 30 minutes earlier. None of us ever caught another bass.
The next day went about the same. I tried to hang at the dam, but with only a couple of small fish by late morning, I was forced to leave in order to finish my limit. Of course, in my absence, the smallmouth turned on.
When the event was over, Davy elaborated on his victory. He said his fish down lake had disappeared, and out of desperation, he went to the tailrace at the dam late the first morning, hoping to salvage the day. When he got there, the bite was on.
It was the same throughout the four days of competition—they fed from 11am to 1pm. It had nothing to do with turbine generation or water flow, those were constant. It was simply a case of the fish choosing to feed in that window. A window that slammed shut on me.
Lessons Learned
With the 2012 Elite Series rapidly approaching, I’m hoping these and other hard-learned lessons will improve my game. I’ve been treading water for too long.
Like this past season, the 2012 Elite Series opens with back-to-back events in Florida—the St. Johns River and
It’s time for payback!
