MKFS Journals...May Slam

         

                                           Corn Coast Kayak Angler Caleb Workman with his catfish entry.

    It was the first outing of the month. I was waiting for darkness. When the last light was gone, the predators of the night would be out prowling. My senses adjusted to the lack of one. Among the song of insect wings and laughter of seagulls, I listened intently for the click of a rotating spool. A sound that would mean there was a fish eating the fish on my hook. My bait was larger than most of the fish the anglers on the jetty were trying to catch. I was in my element. I felt this month's tournament would play to my strengths...strengths born of an obsession...an obsession with catching fish born before I was.  The same obsession that you can see glimmering in Jeremy Wade's fish junkie stare into the depths.
           It all started in a cafe in Brownville, NE. There was an array of yellowing photos under a glass countertop. A greasy crew of river rats with huge catfish laid out across tailgates. It wasn't long after that when I walked into Hunter's Headquarters in Auburn and bought an eight foot broomstick rod and a big reel loaded with 40 pound hi-vis green line. I don't think I ever caught a big catfish on that set-up but i tried and tried...and tried. Years later, as I lifted a massive flathead from the muddy Missouri river, I felt a level of reward, gratitude and respect unparalleled by most catches. I truly believe that fish was a state record but when it swam away with a mighty swoosh of the tail and left me drenched, I was as happy as an angler can be on the water. Since my youth, I've landed many big cats and catching one during the May Slam tournament was very important. A single trophy cat would weigh in heaviest point wise than any other fish in the tournament.
    So there I was, waiting all night for that one big bite. Hours of monotony just mean more adrenaline when the line starts to go. Wandering thoughts interrupted by a jolt of instant excitement. The bait clicker let out a screech. I grabbed the rod and felt the line slipping through the eyelets. I waited, the fish stopped and swallowed the bait then began swimming again. I eased back on the rod, felt the kahle hook slide into the corner of the jaw and bury itself. The rod tip bowed down to the the surface and it was on. The fish ran deep, found a snag for a moment then busted free. Soon enough, I had a fist full of  bottom lip. The flathead stretched to 34". It was a good fish, however there were much larger catfish in the lake and I had my sights set on 40" or better.

     The May Slam consisted of one fish of three different species. Bass, bluegill and catfish were the targets. My strategy was to spend most of my time chasing catfish. I put the other two fish on the back burner with confidence I could catch some big ones without much time to do so. On a random family camping trip I scored a nice bass and entered it. I ended up catching some bass that were larger but thought I could do better and did not photograph them. In the end, I spent one afternoon chasing bass and didn't do well. I was a bit overconfident and ended up not scoring as many points as I could have, lesson learned....or maybe not. I waited until the last day of the tournament to go after bluegill. I had a great spot for gills that went nearly ten inches but not only did I procrastinate, I opted to go to a closer lake expecting to easily capture a 9" plus specimen. I spent all day chasing gills and didn't catch what I expected to. The part of my strategy that would pay off was focusing primarily on big catfish.
     With a 34" flathead on the record, I headed to the river for something a bit larger. I spent a day roasting in the sun with nothing to show but perma-Keen tan lines on my feet. I returned to the lake I had been fishing earlier in the month and planned to stay late. Around 10:30 in the evening, I saw my float slowly disappear from the moonlit surface. The line crept off the reel as the float occasionally bobbed up further and further away. After what seemed like ages I had had enough and reeled up the slack. As soon as I felt tension, I hammered back on the rod only to feel nothing. I started retrieving line but didn't even feel the slip bobber on the line. Ten yards from my kayak I caught up to the fish which had swam directly at me. The fish was solidly hooked and once we both realized that, all hell broke loose. The big flathead was damn near under my kayak when the battle began and it was a bit nerve racking as that fish really wanted to tip me. Once I gave her some line to work with, I let her tow me around. I finally felt it was worn down and dropped anchor in the rocks. My first attempt to lip her and she just gave me a good shower and returned to depths. Finally, I had a firm grip and hauled her into the kayak. I immediately realized this fish was larger than I thought. I fumbled around with two measuring boards and this big kitty on the floor of my kayak. I needed some help, plain and simple. I paddled to the nearby jetty and called out to a crappie fisherman.  The fisherman was happy to help and measured the fish at around 40" with his tape measure. I laid out the boards and control item and we put the fish on them, I snapped a picture but the tail was bent. The fish still measured almost 38" with bent tail. I then tried for one better picture real quick and just as I was about to take it, the dude lost his grip on my fish and she was gone...back into the depths. Now, I'm all about releasing fish and this fish wasn't out of the water more than a few minutes with a couple dunks in between but I was a little sad I didn't get a picture with the largest flathead I'd ever pulled into the kayak. Oh well! I had a great fish for the tournament and it would factor into winning the May Slam!



          I spent a couple more nights on the water and caught nothing at all. At the end of the month I had caught a total of 2 catfish in 5 outings. It was a great month for simply sitting on the water with a line out and chatting with kayak fishing buddies. I even was harassed by the "Godfather of Nebraska Kayak Fishing". He approached in the dark and posed as a witless game warden and had me going for a minute....troublemaker!
     The month was extremely challenging for me. This is a good thing for an angler. You learn from catching fish under pressure. I've fished many tournaments but this one had its own unique challenges. I spent most of my time not catching fish. I can say after the first two months of the tournament I was feeling a bit burned out and relieved to spend the next month pursuing the good ol' black bass.

   

       

MKFS Journals...Crappie Month

                 

                 I'd been slowly formulating a plan of attack for months. I had set goals for each monthly tournament of the Midwest Kayak Fishing Series.  The computer desk was a mess, highlighters and empty cans of  Coors Banquet sat on lake map printouts as I scouted and researched the internet. I would have one weekend open to travel. It wasn't hard to choose, one of the best crappie lakes in the midwest was only three hours away. I would fish local waters when I could and hit the big lake on the last weekend of the tournament. I had a goal of 3 fish that went 15" or better. Crappie month would end up being the most challenging for me.
            In the months before the tournament was underway, my fishing buddies and I talked often about  our strategies. Almost immediately the trickery, lies and trash-talking began. We had all planned to fish together but everyone became quiet and branched out on rogue missions when April rolled around. I had shared my plan of going out of state but I wouldn't reveal which lake. My time for fishing was very limited and as the tournament got going I was immediately feeling pressured.The corn coast crew was out fishing and I couldn't seem to make it out. Finally, I was able to go to a sand pit that I knew contained big crappie. I'd caught several in the 15" range while bass fishing and I hoped to locate some although I'd never targeted them there. It was a cold day and we'd had a cold spring. Water temps were in the upper 40's. I spent a couple hours making passes with the electronics. After awhile, I found a brush pile in 14 FOW with fish on it. I was drifting my favorite crappie bait, The Slabmaster. I had a few fish slash at the bait but no real takers. I downsized to a pumpkin tube, added some Hog Tonic and started catching fish. There were some nice fat slabs but nothing over 13". I spent a few hours working the area and went home with 3 decent fish logged for the tournament.

       I only made it out twice after that day locally. On one occasion I was skunked on crappie but landed a 23" freshwater drum. On the other, I caught one 9" crappie. I was feeling nervous as some really nice crappie were being entered. One friend of mine had entered a 16" fish and several people had 14" fish including one of my brethren in the corn coast crew. I had my fingers crossed my month end trip would pay off big....three outings, thirteen hours spent fishing so far and not much to show.

When the end of the month finally came about I was loaded to the gills with jigs, roadrunners and crank baits. My fishing buddy from work was joining me for the weekend. We had a light camping set-up, twelve rods, two coolers and an ambitious determination to go hard-core for some monster slabs. Mother Nature decided she wasn't going let that happen without a fight. After some campfire drinks and a fit of sleep under the stars, I woke up ready to hit the water. 

I began dissecting a cove that held some of the warmest water in the lake. The morning bite was slow with a smallmouth bass and a drum being the only catches. Mid-morning I passed over a school of fish and felt a light thump on the slabmaster. Moments later a fat slab appeared beside the kayak. I thought for sure she would go 16" but she measured an even 14". The fish helped spark my high hopes again and I buckled down and focused on what I was doing. My efforts were fruitless however and by the time we stopped for lunch, 60 mph wind gusts were rolling across the lake and our little bay was rocking.

With every wave, the hull would lift and crash down sending a constant spray into my face. Our anchors would not hold. The fish had disappeared and the bay had filled with big boats trying to get off the main lake. We threw in the towel for the afternoon and began driving around scouting the lake. At one of the boat ramps I saw a familiar boat docking and recognized a fishing friend from Nebraska. We exchanged pleasantries and he gave me the down low on a spot he'd been catching some nice fish in. We decided to hit that area in the morning and headed to the dam where we'd be out of the wind for the  evening bite. The calm water was a relief. The sun began to sink behind the horizon and the water lit up in pinks and oranges. A few casts in and the arc of my line twitched on the retrieve. Then there was simply weight and the rod slowly bending. A set of papery lips appeared revealing a throat full of crank bait. It was a sign of things to come. The rest of the evening provided a consistent bite. The slabs were inhaling a yo zuri rattle-n-vibe. I caught some nice walleye to boot and probably 15-20 crappies between 11 and 13 plus inches. I had upgraded my three crappie at the end of the first day but I was nowhere near my goal for the month. However, after hours without a bite it was a good way to finish the evening.

On day two of the trip we had some good luck and some bad luck. My friend's advice had been right on the money. The first fish of the morning bit in 30 FOW and was wearing the neat tuxedo spawning colors of male crappies.  I could see crappie chasing food just below the surface of the emerald water. The entire morning held good fishing and I was able to upgrade with two 14" fish. My final entry would be 3 fish all at 14" for the tournament. I was shy of my goal but was extremely satisfied after how challenging the month had been. We paddled for shore in the early afternoon to pack up and head home. When we arrived at the truck we realized we'd had some gear stolen. We filed a police report and did a little investigating on our own but did not recover our stuff. It was a sour end to a great day on the water.  With the exception of a few hours, the month was extremely tough. In the end my three fish would be enough for second place but I had to work for them. The best part was sending my buddies fish pictures after the trip. They didn't tell the whole story but maybe made them jealous of the success of my secret plan. A bit of a cheap reward in our rather competitive circle. With crappie month over, I thought perhaps the May Slam would be a bit easier but there would be more jammed gears and thrown wrenches.