What sound does a peacock make, anyway?

I've got a lot of catching up to do on trip and tournament reports, but for some reason I just can't let this go, and I want to get this out while it's still fresh.  I was scrolling through Facebook a couple of days ago, and found a repost from Chris Payne (Kayak Fishing Blog).

The repost was a link to an opinion article posted on a website called Wide Open Spaces.  It's a well built site with lots of contributor content from various outdoorsmen and women.

As reluctant as I am to post a link, it would probably be beneficial to read it before you read my response. So, here it is.  It's a piece of work.

Amateur Anglers in Jerseys are Peacocks

OK, then.  If that's how you feel, here's a selfie for you.

It should be noted that the author Brent Cannon does make some valid points, especially about the state of the "Pro Staff" game.  I have seen it first hand, especially with younger anglers.  They accept a pro staff position with a company for which they've never used that equipment.  It's really not fair to the company nor the angler when you think about it.  The company gets nearly free advertising, but it comes from anglers who know very little about the product they are repping.  And, yes, the angler gets to say he or she is on pro staff, but what is the benefit?  To me, being on a pro staff should be mutually beneficial.  And I believe the author is coming from the same school of thought in that regard.  That is a common school of thought among many in the kayak fishing community.  Chris Payne has warned us of such pitfalls in the Kayak Fishing Blog, and it has been preached on various other outlets within our community.  Kayak fishing is a rapidly growing niche within the fishing industry, and many companies see that.  We as anglers (kayak or bass boat) need to be smart in the decisions we make as to whom and where we associate ourselves. Good points made, but that is a soapbox for another day.

Here is the excerpt that has me scratching my head and ruffling my feathers, so to speak -

"Better yet, do they even know you are sporting their logo while acting like an absolute douche to everyone you meet?

I get it. You probably didn’t win enough trophies as a kid, your mom always told you that you could be anything you wanted, and the best way for people to THINK you’re an awesome angler isn’t to show them on the water, it’s to slap 1,326 logos on a jersey you had to pay $125 for.

Oh, too harsh? Really?

You can’t manage to qualify for a regional tournament, can’t beat the local guys on a regular basis on “your water” and have more excuses than a Dalmatian has spots. You do however know everything about everything in the fishing industry and will tell anyone who will listen.

While you run your mouth at the bait shop, the oldtimer in the blue jeans and original trucker hat from Mann’s Bait Company in 1979 is grinning behind his cup of coffee. You know why? He’s going to take your money again this weekend.

I remember a day when patches were earned, jerseys were for the elite anglers, and humility still ruled the day. Maybe I’m an old fart too, longing for a better community of fishermen. Maybe I wish these 20 and 30 something anglers would chill out spending so much money on jerseys and boat wraps when they can’t win a tournament.

Earn something! Win something!

Amateur anglers in pros clothing sends all the wrong messages. It’s pride. It’s vanity. It’s wanting to be seen as special. What the rest of us see is an insecure peacock who needs to preen and prance.

You want to be seen as above average or special. Newsflash Einstein! Clothes don’t catch fish. Boat wraps don’t mean crap if you are the one paying to have it done.

What you really need to do is spend time working on your craft. Learn new skills, learn the waters you’ll be fishing and stop parading around as if the anglers not in jerseys should bow to your greatness."

Let's get some things straight, Brent.  I know sarcasm and hyperbole when I see it.  But I'm also pretty good at sniffing out a good old fashioned hater.  They're getting easier and easier to spot because there are way too many around these days, meddling in everyone else's business rather than tending to their own.  I'm sorry you're worried about what I'm wearing when I'm paying my hard earned money to enter a tournament.  I didn't know my wardrobe was a microaggression.  You reminisce about the old days but hate like a millennial.

Yes sir, I'm wearing a jersey to my tournaments this year.  Please, tell me again how that makes me "act like an absolute douche to everyone I meet."  I have to know this so I can go apologize to all my fishing buddies. 

Yes sir, I got enough trophies as a kid - actually, some were even awarded for more than just  participation.  

Yes sir, my mother encouraged my hobbies and passions, and because of my Papaw I became a pretty doggone good fisherman.  I listen to those old timers in the Wranglers and Mann's hats - they can teach more than just fishing.  Those same influences like my parents and grandparents, and baseball coaches, teachers, etc also taught me things like integrity, good sportsmanship, and financial responsibility.   Fishing is certainly not my day job, but you bet your ass I'll be working some 12 hour days so I can save up some extra time for "working on my craft." I don't mind doing it. I do that so I can show up confident for a tournament. I fish all types of water.  I research constantly.  I read.  I watch the Elite Series Pros. I'm a sponge.  I admittedly neglect quality time I could be spending with my wife by studying lake maps and archiving 15 years worth of fishing reports. That's the only thing I regret.

While I show up on tournament day with a goal to win, I also try to be an ambassador for the sport and build friendly relationships with my fellow anglers - that's one of the draws of kayak fishing.  I've never been one to keep information to myself - I enjoy others' successes and try to both help them and learn from them, and generally they treat me the same. That whole golden rule thing actually works when applied properly.  

Furthermore, it's my business if I want to spend the money for a jersey to rep the companies I have worked to build actual relationships with.  I have a handful of pro staff/field team deals, and they are mutually beneficial.  I don't make the discounts, etc public knowledge because I don't think it's professional, but I'll say I'm quite comfortable with them.  The fact that they have not sent me a custom made jersey does not offend me.  The fact that I've spent money on those products in the past, so that now I'm comfortable representing them does not upset me. It makes me a more valuable asset for their brand, and gives me credibility. Those logos are on my jersey, along with a family business who supports me, and the products of personal friends that I actually use.  The KBF logo is on my jersey because that organization gives me the chance to fish from a kayak for $30k+ each year (as long as I qualify).  And I don't think I'm a sellout.  That's my opinion.  You are entitled to yours. My bills are paid and I have some money saved for a rainy day.  I'm fortunate enough that I could afford my peacock outfit, so I think I'm going to look the part whether you think I'm prancing around like an insecure douche or not.  

Indeed, clothes don't catch fish.  But my NaPo Custom Rod and Chattahoochee Jigs do.

River Bassin' Trail 2016 Kickoff Event - Crawfordville, FL

After my "rookie" 2015 season, the 2016 kayak fishing tournament season couldn't get here fast enough.  For me, there is just something about competitive fishing.  This was the first tournament of the 2016 season, and while it was still cold back home in north Georgia, an early March getaway to the Florida panhandle was just the ticket to get rid of the winter blues and get me back into the swing of things on the tournament scene.  I had been practicing a lot for the KBF National Championship which was coming up toward the end of March, but I hadn't really fished against anyone nor against the clock in a bass-only tournament since the previous October.

As a bonus, what was initially planned to be a quick weekend trip with a little bit of fishing and camping turned into a week long immersion into Old Florida.  Far away to the west were the bustling spring break towns of Panama City Beach and Destin.  This was little towns like Panacea, Sopchoppy, and Alligator Point.  Back in 2011 I had spent some time in this area for work, and had come to appreciate the area for what it was, and I was glad to be back, and show my wife and sister-in-law around some of the places that up until that point, I could only illustrate in stories of my travelin' days.

Friday, March 4th was getaway day, and Sass and I left that morning so we could take our time getting down to our rental house on Alligator Point.  I had planned out a route through Bainbridge and West Tallahassee, so I could stop at some river access points and scout out the water.  I was not going to prefish - I did not take any extra days off beforehand, and made a pretty late decision to fish the tournament at all.  I had done plenty of internet and map research, however,  and had it narrowed down to just a few spots on the Flint, Sopchoppy and Ochlockonee Rivers.  The River Bassin' Tournament Trail allows anglers to fish any moving water and natural sloughs, oxbows, etc within a 50 mile radius of the host location.  So naturally, the panhandle and Big Bend offered numerous options.  The in-bounds section of the Flint was in the backwaters of Lake Seminole and there are plenty of big largemouth there, but that location was on the extreme outskirts of the 50 mile radius, and I chose to spend more time actually fishing than driving back to weigh-in.

After some more scouting and checking into the house, I had made the decision to fish a section of the Ochlockonee in an area called Woodlake.  We made our way to the captains' meeting at The Wilderness Way just outside Crawfordville. By the way - take a look at this house...straight out of the 1950's and stood the test of time against the hurricanes.  It had a smooth stone floor, stucco walls and tin roof.  Nothing about it was new, yet it was perfect.  And right on the beach.

The Digs

Back at the Wilderness Way, I met up with my teammate Allen "Cornbread" Starling.  This was my first River Bassin' tournament I had teamed up with someone to fish.  We met at the Chattanooga River Bassin' event last year and became friends - one of many I've made through kayak fishing.  The River Bassin' format awards cash and prizes for both team and individual divisions.  So, even if one teammate has a rough day, the other still has a chance to win in the individual division if they have a good day.  Fishing together is encouraged, but our team was put together at the last minute and we did not do a lot of pre planning together, so the best we could do was wish each other luck and check the leaderboard during tournament day, and reconvene at the weigh-in.  Cornbread had decided to camp and fish on the Wacissa River, east of Crawfordville, and I was staying southwest of Crawfordville.  So the Ochlockonee made sense for me to fish.  Sass and I went to Mad Anthony's for dinner on the water, and after that it was time for last minute prep, and to get some sleep.

Last minute prep did not go well.  While testing my electronics, I realized somehow my inline fuse to my Lowrance was blown.  The river I was fishing had deep water. I was going to be relegated to either covering water and probing structure with a Carolina Rig or fishing visible cover.  I would choose the latter.

As always, sleep came at a premium on tourney eve, but I managed a few hours and was up very early and on the water just in time for first light and lines in.  It was a beautiful morning, somewhat cool but quite comfortable.  I was in unfamiliar surroundings with the tannic water, cypress knees, and sandy banks.  I started with a buzzbait near some pads and in the shallows, and did not draw a strike.  After 20-30 minutes I switched to a chatterbait and drew a nice strike but ended up losing the fish after only getting a glimpse of it.  It was maybe 14-15 inches and would have been a nice start and a confidence booster.  That was the last strike I got on the chatterbait, however, and I switched to a white trick worm, a bait that I read was good for tannic water on some of the Florida fishing forums.

Sometime around mid-morning I tossed the worm into a shallow flat near a creek bend and my rod loaded up.  After the hookset, I knew I had something significant on the other end.  It took a good 20 seconds before I realized this was not the target species.  I had hooked into the mighty prehistoric looking bowfin.  I managed to keep it hooked despite its violent thrashing fits, and get it on the Boga Grip.  I wasn't letting this toothy critter stay around too long, because it still had plenty of hitch in its giddy-up as I was getting the hook out of its mouth.  I kept it around long enough to get an upside-down photo of it on my Hawg Trough - 23 inches of solid muscle.  It was a new species and the hardest fighting freshwater fish I have caught.

My first bowfin

That was the only fish I got on the white trick worm.  I switched to a Wack 'Em worm in junebug later in the afternoon, once the sun got overhead, and was able to boat two small largemouth bass, but never was able to land a third for my limit.  It was a humbling day in the swamps of Wakulla County. A few counties over in the crystal clear, spring fed waters of the Wacissa, Cornbread had managed to boat one bass himself.  So neither of us were skunked, but we were not going to be near the top either.

Individually, I ended up 23rd out of 43 anglers.  Team ANGLR finished 11th out of 13 teams.  I continue to be impressed with the job Drew Gregory (and now his wife Cristina) do putting together and hosting these tournaments.  They get good host locations and sponsors, and Drew, Noah and team put the information together well, and are quick to answer any questions and handle any issues that arise.

I have joined the Southeastern Online River Bassin' tournament as well, and it will count toward the three required events to be fished to qualify for the National Championship on the Susquehanna River in Pennsylvania this fall - the land of the trophy smallmouth. The tournament runs the length of the season all the way up to 9/25/16, the weekend before the National Championship on 10/1/16. 

The great thing about the tournament being finished, was that it turned out to be only the beginning of an awesome vacation.  Sass and I spent the day resting and went to the beach at Alligator Point on Sunday.  We had Deuce with us, too.  She doesn't like the water much, but enjoyed exploring the sights and smells of the beach and the dunes.

Later that evening, my sister in law joined us and we had a great dinner at Hamaknockers BBQ.  This was the first of two trips we'd end up making there. Comfort food for a comfort trip.

The next day was spent on Alligator Point exploring and relaxing, and I got to take the Amigo out on Alligator Harbor for a while. I threw a swimbait around some docks for a while but no takers.  I saw tons of stingrays but very few fish.  Later that evening I went out to Levy Bay and threw the swimbait some more into some mullet schools, but again the redfish were not taking.

Alligator Harbor

Levy Bay "skunkset"

The next morning, I went to the brackish waters of Ochlockonee Bay State Park to try and chase the spot tails again.  Apparently the water was more fresh than salty.  I caught a largemouth on the first cast with a chatterbait, and saw a few alligators but that was all.

Looking back on this trip, I am so glad I decided to take off the extra few days and spend some quality time with my wife and sister-in-law.  This is a trip I will remember fondly, and I'm glad I got to spend some more time in a part of the state of Florida I came to love and appreciate several years ago.  I didn't catch very many fish, but that's okay.  It turned out to be much more than just a fishing trip.  After dinner at the Coastal, we capped off the trip with a bonfire on the beach.  Hard to beat that ending.  Cheers to Old Florida.