Lessons Gleaned (Part 5)
Participating in competitions forces anglers to compare their own results against others, potentially accelerating their learning curves. This only applies when people share information openly and honestly. Some anglers keep their mouths zipped about where they fished and what they did, complicating things for folks intent on using competition to rev up the engines on a fast train to success. Other anglers intentionally lie about these same things, hoping to confuse their competitors.
However, in my experience, some people do share information honestly, and I believe I improved faster than I otherwise could have, because I fished regularly in tournaments, enabling me to compare my successes and failures with those of my peers. After results had been tallied, I talked to some of my competitors about where and how they fished, then analyzed what I'd done, trying to identify my strengths and weaknesses, also to generate a list of sound operating principles. I use many of those principles when making decisions today.
Some aspects of angling fit more readily into this discussion than others. If most of the top finishers in an event fished in or near the same location, one can draw meaningful conclusions about the potential productivity of the place in conditions similar to the ones in play during the event. Similarly, if all the top contestants drifted to catch their fish, while wading anglers came up small, one might draw reasonable conclusions about the relative potential of those two basic strategies in specific kinds of conditions. And, drawing useful conclusions about lure-choice becomes simple when all the winners throw similar types of lures, while those throwing others find themselves on the outside looking in.
The final choice one makes when attempting to catch fish, after choosing a place, a strategy and a lure, relates to the specific method of presenting the lure to the fish. Presentation style plays a vital, sometimes existential role, in determining the potential for a specific lure to facilitate desired outcomes. Drawing conclusions about this part of the puzzle proves exceedingly difficult, partly because most post-tournament discussions don't include mention of it. Furthermore, because of the subtleties associated with it, learning something about the value of a presentation style generally starts with witnessing it first-hand.
All this said, I definitely recall several specific events which happened during or leading into competitions which helped me appreciate not only the potential importance of presentation style generally, but also the efficacy of specific presentations. I witnessed these things personally, with my eyes wide open, either while watching a nearby competitor, or while watching partners attempt to replicate a presentation style I used while we fished together. In all these cases, the forced direct comparison of results revealed undeniable truths.
By the time I became a full-time guide, I'd already realized the value of comparing results, and I developed strategies to force its use, sometimes throwing different lures than my customers, hoping to find the optimal one for the moment, at other times, dabbling with presentations, with the same goal in mind. In no small way, the experiences related to these choices played the primary role in driving me to an important conclusion―the movement pattern of a lure exerts profound influence on its potential for productivity.
Movement pattern certainly plays a far more important role in productivity than color. Depth of presentation plays a huge role in productivity too, of course. Presenting a lure at the proper depth is the first step in earning strikes; perfecting the movement pattern to match the needs of the moment completes the process.
Testing the efficacy of a presentation style (or a color) cannot be done negatively. Throwing a lure into a place and NOT earning a strike doesn't necessarily prove anything. Two anglers throwing on opposite sides of a reef, at different ends of a set of potholes or along different stretches of a shoreline might well be throwing at different concentrations of fish. One might be throwing where no fish swims, and one cannot catch a fish where no fish swims. The only way to definitively test how much influence a movement pattern (or a color) has on a lure's potential for productivity is for two or more anglers to throw the same lure at the same fish.
I vividly remember doing this in many situations, most of which occurred after I became a guide, at times when I consciously called customers over, after earning some strikes in a place. But years earlier, these situations did occur, and I and my partners did effectively test the movement patterns of our lures to the best of our ability. One such occasion happened while I and three others waded the south shoreline of Sabine Lake around the turn of the century.
Lots of big mullet jumped in front of us, as we stood in the shallows with the bank behind us, casting toward the open expanse of water in the middle of the lake. I began earning vicious blow ups on a Super Spook favored by all of us at the time, the Okie Shad color. I made a conscious effort to make each cast into the expanding ripples created by mullet after they leapt and landed. As did the partners fishing with me. After I caught about five fat trout, all measuring between 23 and 26 inches, while the others beside me had nary a blow up, the guys began paying attention to exactly what I was doing.
Two of them decided the difference between my catch-rate and theirs lay in the color of our Spooks; they tied on their Okie Shads. I continued to catch while they didn't. Then, one of them made a reasonable assertion, saying I was throwing at a small, tight school of fish. So, I invited them to squeeze me, to throw exactly where I did. Three of us began tossing virtually identical Super Spooks at the very same jumping mullet.
This made things worse for my friends. I kept catching, executing a style of presentation I'd used effectively many times before, walking the dog forcefully for four or five strokes, pausing to allow the plug to bob up and down, then holding the rod tip steady and turning the reel handle fast for several rotations, to skim the lure quickly over the water for five or six feet, then pausing it again. Most of the aggressive strikes occurred right when the skimming lure came to rest, or just when it started moving again. Try though they certainly did, my buddies never succeeded in effectively mimicking my "skim and pause" presentation; they watched while I whacked 'em, catching nearly nothing.
Similar events unfolded in a Rockport Troutmasters event held in March of 2001. One of my partners at the time, the best angler I've ever known, fished near (though not technically with) me on Saturday. We both experienced a tough time earning bites in cool, windy conditions. After I caught my second fish and could see he had none, I held up my Fat Boy so he could see it clearly. I watched him tie one on, but he caught no fish on it for the next two hours or so. Eventually, after seeing me land a few more quality trout, he left, later telling me he'd rather not see someone else catching fish when he can't. We had no way of knowing for certain whether his lack of success was precisely tied to presentation style, but I believed it was.
He has little experience with such a scenario. His skill sets almost always produce desired results. Like they did on the day he and I fished the Padre Island National Seashore surf in the wake of a strong cold front. We both figured soft plastics would give us the best chance of catching trout in the prevailing conditions. Over the course of about an hour, he caught at least half a dozen while I went without a strike, so I became acutely interested in seeing exactly how he was wiggling his worm. Eventually, he gave me the same jighead and soft plastic he used, then demonstrated the subtleties of the technique he employed. And we threw our lures into the same exact places, but he caught about a dozen fish while I smelled a skunk and earned just one weak tap, despite making an effort to mimic his presentation precisely.
These and many other related experiences helped me realize how much influence the movement pattern of a lure can have on its potential for productivity. This truth bears more significance in some situations than others. In some cases, choosing a lure which works at the proper depth will produce strikes, almost regardless of how the angler works it through the water. Topwaters of all kinds, worked in various ways, earn plenty of blow ups, when the hunger of the trout drives them into a stupid state, and they cast their gaze skyward, looking for victims.
But in many cases, even subtle variations in the way a lure travels through the water can exert profound influence on the number of strikes it earns. I believe this so deeply because I've personally witnessed it more times than I can count. The evidence related to the value of directly comparing results leads to a clear conclusion. Among all the ways we as anglers can learn and grow, testing things fully and fairly against others while fishing side by side with and against them ranks at or near the top.