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Given my recent state of competitive disappointments I thought it best to reflect on tournament yak angling and discuss ways to avoid the dreaded donut. Before I begin though let me state this isn't a pat on the back, or a shoulder to cry on, more a way of sharing my experiences, the ups and downs of the rollercoaster ride called my tournament career. Straight off the bat I still consider myself a tournament newbie, while I would love to progress into a non boater role on the near horizon lack of time, success, glory and god damn responsibility all get in the way.
It's not a goal of mine, but as I love gathering as much fishing experience as possible I would love to give it a shot one day. Who knows, if I did well I might become hooked, buy a tournament boat and become a fully fledged addict. Then again, who am I kidding here. I'm in my mid 30's, 1 year old daughter, 10 year+ de facto relationship (With the girl of my dreams I might add) and my employment title credential is currently listed as 'Daddy Day Care'. Mister DIY coming up in the suburbs, living life to the fullest, mountain of debt, all whilst staying a true brother of the angle.
Freedom, escapism, kayak fishing, fishing, kayak fishing, freedom, the mindless wander. A couple of words/phrases instantly spring to mind, more my wants and needs to survive this rat race as an individual. The love for fishing never wains, it truely rewards (And not just in the fishy sense). Time clutches all though and I find myself missing out on those little trips, the ones were the big one didn't get away (It was caught by your mate). Sometimes even packing a car for a simple trip seems to have lost its lustre, but surprisingly not when the kayak fishing tournament calendars roll around.
Human beings are naturally competitive, competition not only drives us every day to do better than those we consider to be our equals, it also allows us to strive to be the same as, and then better than, those we see as superior to us. You see, notice that at no time did I mention 'I'm better than you' or 'I'm the best', that's not what drives me to participate (Not at all). I like making up numbers, I like being one of the gang, those social aspects that encourage friendship. Most of all though I like to perform under pressure, to better past achievements and strive for a personal accolade.
This is a way of saying you like to win you might say. Everyone likes to win but in my case, well you couldn't be further from the truth. This isn't about defeating 50 armed plastic seated bastards on some blood lake, hell this is all about man vs man, mano e mano and all that crap (Me vs Me). In many ways I'm my own worst enemy, far too hard on myself when failure looms, far too quick to sneak in a fist pump when the cards are stacked against me. Sometimes, oh sometimes I perform better than expected. 'Practice makes perfect' I keep telling myself, but in reality google would translate that as 'How can I allocate time to perfect those skill sets required to win tournaments?'.
It's no secret the best fishermen I know fish often, in fact some of them get out 5 days a week. Coincidently, most of these guys fish Bream tournaments and clean up the prize pools. They live on the water, breathe on the water, live off the what lays beneath the water, heck there practically amphibians of some sort of genus. About 6 years ago Bream was a fish I caught trolling for Flathead (By-catch, so to speak), easy to come by and horrible on the plate. When the poppers on Whiting/Bream phenomenon exploded most of my mates had already mastered it and I was patting my head, rubbing my tummy trying to catch up. Through their tutelage I finally got it, it was the first decent technique I could apply from the kayak to catch fish in shallow water.
As I started to amass the years fishing from a kayak I became confident when fishing socially, learning to deploy a certain technique in the right place at the right time. Unfortunately the same couldn't be said about my Bream tournament results. My local haunts differed greatly to, as an example, the Queensland canals we visited and I really struggled to read my surroundings (On a regular basis). Frantically searching for a systems fishable top waters I would hope for an edge bite, overlooking sinking options. For some reason I found the whole jig head, plastic choice too rushed in tournament scenarios and never gained confidence using that approach. After being monstered by Mangrove Jack after Mangrove Jack cranking mid waters I became hesitant to prospect with a hardbody, instead looking for super shallow sandbanks to walk the dog.
I had become a 'One trick Pony', and even that didn't work on unknown waters (How I longed for the South Coast of NSW). Then came the deep water technique I so needed to learn, the art of blading for Bream. My good mate and KFA member Craig happily provided the right tools for the job, explained his technique, the bite and why it worked at this particular location and then suddenly bang, I'm on to a good fish. That particular day resulted in my first tournament top 10 (Seventh place), given I was new to the technique and the quality of the field I was a little blown away. The best feeling though was realising both Craig and Jason had made the top 5. Craig using his shared blading approach and Jason flourishing on the surface.
A couple of months later at the same location, during a different competition, using the same blading technique I took out first place. But, it's a big but too... Fast forward to present day, same venue, cooler water, two day tournament event, same technique and the dreaded double donut occurred. I'm not new to them (Donuts that is) and I got completely sick of them, blaming myself (As one does) for not learning those important past lessons. To avoid more calorie laden sugary goodness (Or evil soul cursing performance, both are bad for you) I stumbled purely by accident on a technique that got me out of the donut van on more than a number of occasions.
Combining super shallow water, a patented edge bite (Tide dependant) and shallow running suspending hard body's, the art of shallow jerk baiting got me out of the donut van on more than a number of occasions. Pulsing the lure ever so slightly, rod held high, slow rolling back with a super aggressive rod shake would bring the Bream on. Make no mistake, if they were/are around they will eat it. The spasm like action of the suspending lure (In most cases a silent Zip Baits 'Khamsin') basically resembles a baitfish that has had way to much caffiene. The vibration (Sans rattle) and technique keeps the bib down slightly while the pulse of the rod tip offers a 'Now or never' result.
Armed with what at the time seemed like the mother of all techniques, off I would trot, returning venue, different tide, same area, epic fail. Different arena, same lure, same technique, favorable tide, top 5 finish. Sometimes all techniques fail, sometimes some waterways are deficient in the features that one needs to excel in. Blame your tools, trade or focus all you want, it won't make up for a lack of experience on the waterway in question. Australia's top tournament anglers spend more time preparing for a pre fish than the actual tournament day. Prefishing an area before a tournament helps immensely, even if you can't get up/down to the waterway in question and just throw various lures around randomly on a local.
Be it Black or Yellow, donut or podium, Bream fishing can be the arsiest of sports. I guess that's one of the reasons why they implemented tournaments for this species in the first place. Think about it, what's the one fish you can catch when you don't want or even need to that's hardy as all hell, pulls like a demon but yet supremely elusive when a catch is warranted... Sure as hell not a Flathead.
Love, one jaded Bream fisherman.
PS - Just in case your wondering what the image contains, mainly epic fail meters, a pony, some lures, angry colours with splashes of vivid dissapointment. Shit, I am truely a blogger now, who would have thought?
