Three months of studying the lake, the time of year, tournament reports, weather reports, bombarding Facebook groups for water reports, a hefty tackle order and tons of support from friends, family, and most importantly, my fiancee, and I was ready for the KBF Open on Santee Cooper.
I fished from my Old Town Predator PDL. It handled twenty mile per hour gusts well. It handled swells and whitecaps well. I cannot say enough good things about my kayak. I had six rods, a medium 7' spinning outfit for all my finesse needs, a 6'10" medium casting setup for small spinnerbaits and lipless, a 7'1" medium casting outfit for Texas and finesse jigs, a 7'3" medium heavy casting setup for pitching and casting jigs, a 7' medium heavy casting setup for chatterbaits and heavier spinnerbaits, and an 8' heavy casting outfit for swimbaits should I have had time for a kicker fish or two.
I planned on my fish, who were living in 4" of visibility, to be incredibly tight to cover. A cold front was happening for practice and tournament day, so I decided to press the issue with a Z-Man Project Z Chatterbait in Black and Blue with a YUM Pulse 3.5 in Tin Foil. I boated my first practice fish relatively quickly, a 15" largemouth off sawgrass with mixed hyacinth. I marked that spot, and shortly thereafter found a nice 17" on the same cover. One is happenstance, two is a pattern. I left both spots after each fish.
I then graphed a main lake ledge that transitioned from 8' to a 4' flat, but found no arches, no grains of rice on my Hummimbird Helix 7 MSI G3. Oh well, I thought, the winds were too much to target such an open area and I went to a creek arm I had found on the map. The transition from clean water to clear water was unreal, but the depth simply wasn't there to hold a population of fish, I thought. A hundred or so casts later confirmed that suspicion, there were not active fish in the arm. Undeterred and remembering that fish will gather all the way in the back of the creek, I pressed onward. I found the juice, a 13' hole out of that 5' creek arm that was probably 10 yards long. Telltale arches filled my graph. This spot would shelter me from Saturday's increasing winds and fill my limit.
I rode around the lake, second guessing my proven spots, in search of cleaner water sheltered from the wind. I met several other participants, and found them downtrodden and skunked. I decided to fish my original spots. I left the lake and attended the Captain's Meeting, met some cool anglers, ate some chicken, and returned to my Air BNB. 5 AM on tournament morning, I was up.
I launched at 6:30, made it to my first spot at 6:45, told my fiancee I was at my spot and safe, and started pounding the chatterbait along my sawgrass/hyacinth. 45 minutes later, I had no fish in the boat. Perhaps they had moved, perhaps me second guessing myself and changing my trailer to a YUM Craw Chunk had them uninterested. 45 minutes later at the second sawgrass/hyacinth spot and the same deal. A bit worried and bombarded by the increasing wind, I decided my 13' hole in the creek would have to do.
I arrived at my hole at 9, and by 9:01 had landed my first fish on the trusty shakyhead, a 1/8oz with a YUM Dinger in Watermelon Red Flake. I was pumped. I believe they heard me celebrating on the other side of the lake, and I made sure to do my best to measure my 16" bass correctly. I failed. I realized I had not put my tournament identifier in my submitted picture, and it was denied. I had already released my fish. No issue, I can catch more fish here. I began to comb my hole. For two hours, I threw everything and the tackle box at the depression and came up empty.
I was distraught, beaten, worried, and heavy in the heart. My other spots were blown out, my creek was giving me no fish. I called my fiancee, who encouraged me, so I started casting again...but I was not fishing. I was making easy casts to open water and not banging the cover that had produced fish. I was not slowly dragging my shakyhead. Around noon, I decided to head to the ramp; I would fish it the rest of the day, but I was hopeless. I began the journey back with my tail tucked.
The conditions had become worse. I now battled the current of the Congaree and Wateree rivers, the battering winds, and my own negative mindset. A mile or so ahead of me with the same thoughts in mind, a fellow angler paddled his mightiest against the opposition. The Predator ran down his Big Fish 108, and with a bit of coaxing he agreed to allow me to help him back to the landing. Isaac, if you're reading this, thanks for letting me help you. Lending a hand made me feel good about myself again.
After I pedaled and he paddled for all we were worth as waves broke over our bows and exhaustion set in, we finally made it back to the ramp. We talked about the adversity and our elusive quarry, and Isaac told me he was going to get back to fishing.
"I just want one fish," he told me, and it relit my spark. One fish. Santee was going to feel my skill in the waning hours of the tournament. I was going out fighting. No longer was I fishing to defeat the field, I was fishing to fish, to catch, to corner and lip my quarry. Just one fish.
Myself and my half ounce jig went to work, picking apart every inch of cover down one bank before I targeted my first dock of the tournament. Tin roof, 20 posts, walkways, boat slips, jons and pontoons. You know the dock. My first score of mixed casted and pitched presentations met nothing as I worked from the outside posts in, and finally, three quarters of the way down the last set of posts, those closest to the bank...
Tic.
Wham. I crossed her eyes, boys. 17# fluorocarbon whistled through the air and I naturally steered and forced just one fish out of the dock posts. I have no idea what I said, but I thanked the powers that be for just one fish. 18 ¼", on the board, tournament tag visible, picture submitted and accepted. I revived my fish and set her free.
I didn't beat all 134 anglers attending, but over 50 skunked. If both my fish had counted, I would have finished 35th of 134. With only one counting, I managed 50th place. Knowing that my mistake cost me finishing in the 26th percentile, I feel confident for next time. I think I did mighty fine for my first KBF Open and I'll be on Lanier in April.
Thanks to my family, friends, and fiancee for supporting my dreams. Thanks to everyone on BR who wished me luck(@NittyGrittyBoy), thanks to all the new friends I made and thank you, Isaac, for telling me...
I just want to catch one fish.
