The Guntersville Incident of 2017

I write a big, comprehensive post on this blog at the end of the year about my tournaments and the lessons learned during each one. However, after my day at the 2017 KBF Trail event at Lake Guntersville, I decided this tournament deserved its own special post.  Because it was, well...special. And not in the good way.

The Reel Krazy event at Terrapin Creek on August 25-26 had been the last tournament I fished before I bought my Jeep.  I traded in my Toyota Tacoma pickup on September 2, so of course I had to box up all the junk in the truck and get it out before I took it to the dealership to make the trade. That was a busy Labor Day Weekend.  Then my wife and I had our anniversary on September 6, followed by what was supposed to be a family vacation to Florida on the 7th. That got squashed by Hurricane Irma, and we ended up going down there the 16th-21st instead, and had a great time.  But we got back, and I had only one day to prep and load for Guntersville.  It was Friday the 22nd, after a busy day of playing catch-up at work, and I was going to load up and camp that night near my launch point on the north end of the lake near the Nickajack Dam.  It had been nearly a month since I had been on the kayak, but I was ready, and confident in my spot. It was over an hour away from the check-in at Guntersville State Park, but I had caught a really nice 5 lb class fish from that area before, and I was pretty sure I'd have it to myself.  Most people rightfully associate Guntersville Lake with the state of Alabama, but it actually extends all the way up into Tennessee, and that's where I'd be fishing.  The lake is over 65 miles long from southwest (Guntersville, AL) to northeast (South Pittsburg, TN) ends.

Guntersville is a LONG lake!

I loaded up the boat, paddle, PFD, tackle, rods and reels, camping gear, water and snacks, and headed up to Shellmound Campground, just getting there in time to reserve a spot to set up camp before the office closed for the night.  I enjoyed a beverage and did some last minute tackle prep by headlamp before settling into the tent for the night.  Little did I know this would be the end of normalcy for the trip.

I woke up to a traffic jam of trucks and bass boat trailers lined up out the gates of the campground.  The Tennessee High School state bass tournament was at Nickajack, and the launch was at Shellmound.  I broke camp and eventually wove my way out of the campground toward my launch point after a quick stop at McDonald's.  

I made it to my spot for the 6 AM central lines-in time, and began throwing my buzzbait and occasionally target-casting a worm to cover and some manmade structure. About 20 minutes in, I felt the first bump and pulled the line taut. On the other end was a nice largemouth in the 16 inch range.  I got it next to the boat and it showed its face one last time before spitting the hook and swimming away.

It was not a good start, but with that quality bite, I was still optimistic about my decision to fish where I did, albeit so far from the check-in.  If I got a few more bites like that, I'd eventually land five and start culling.  However, that optimism would quickly come to a screeching halt.

As I was throwing the worm back into the spot where I'd hooked up, my heart suddenly sank into my stomach and I felt sick. I had just realized I left my Hawg Trough measuring board at home, two hours away. I usually kept at least two in the truck, but I had not put one in my Jeep since I bought it. It wasn't even 7:30 yet in Chattanooga, so nothing was open and I didn't know where to go to get one anyway. I posted a request to borrow one on a couple of local clubs' Facebook pages, but had no luck there. I was eventually able to get a loaner thanks to Chad and Kristie Hoover coming through in the clutch, but I had to drive all the way to Guntersville, 57 miles, to pick it up. At that point, I had a decision to make.  Do I stay in Guntersville and just survive and adapt in unfamiliar territory, or do I drive back north and stick with my original plan?

If I stayed in Guntersville and fished there, I would have only lost a little over an hour. But, given the fact that I'd had already laid eyes on a quality largemouth, my gut told me to trust my spot up north. I was still confident I could catch a respectable limit in the 4 hours or so I would have left, so I drove the 57 miles back to it, and got back on the water around 10:15. 

Then nothing happened. My gut was wrong.

Over two hours passed, and I finally landed my first bass at 12:30 PM, a 15.25" largemouth. That gave me some hope, but it was eventually dashed as it did not lead to any sort of a pattern.

I had a few more bites and short-lived hookups with some small fish. When it was over, I ended up turning in only two fish for a measly 24.5 inches. Besides a 9.25 inch largemouth, the only other thing I could land was a saugeye (sauger/walleye hybrid), my first one of those ever. That was a neat by-catch, but little solace for the poor performance in the tournament.

My first "saugeye"

Leading up to Guntersville, I had a string of pretty good finishes going, so I was due for a bad tournament. That's fishing. Unfortunately, I picked a bad one on which to end the streak. This was a high profile event on a big name lake with a lot of competitors and a really good prize pool at 68 anglers. I finished 47th. 

I didn't stick around long at the weigh-in, but I did get another chance to shake a few hands, thank Chad and Kristie for meeting me with the hawg trough, and to meet BASS Elite pro Randy Howell and talk a little fishing with him. He seemed genuinely interested in what we were doing, and the impact KBF is bringing to the sport. 

I've since put a pair of hawg troughs in my cargo carrier and I've vowed not to make that mistake again. During my drive to the town of Guntersville, and later to the State Park, I got to see a lot of the lake and take mental notes of spots I'd only seen on maps and satellite images before. It really is a beautiful lake. Now I know where I want to fish when I go back, and I hope there's another KBF Event on the Big G next year so I can go redeem myself.

As for hindsight being 20/20, maybe I should have stayed in Guntersville.  But if I had stayed in Guntersville and had the same bad result, I wouldn't be able to help but wonder what might have been had I went back to Tennessee.  The way it played out, I'm not left wondering what would have happened had I not went with my gut.  And nothing about that day really haunts me.  I just had a bad day of fishing, which still beats every other kind of bad day.

Tight lines, y’all.