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Sometimes it pays to be stubborn.
The huge question every angler confronts on almost every fishing trip is whether to stay or go. The temptation, when the bite is tough, is to fire up the outboard and motor off to bluer waters. There, we dream, we'll find the mother lode of fish eager to eat our baits.
Of course, it doesn't always work out. So sometimes it pays to stay. The angler's job is to analyze the conditions and decide.
During my most recent outing, the stay-or-move options loomed large as my day progressed. The fishing was slow, but I was getting just enough bites to lure me into staying the course.
I had arrived that morning to find the water temperature had dropped 10 degrees since my last visit. The conditions otherwise were similar to several recent trips: Mostly sunny with barely a whiff of wind out of the east-southeast.
Breezy weather suits my style more than slick conditions, so I was not overly optimistic that I was going to have a banner day. But I shoved the boat away from the dock with a game plan that I would be willing to change if things didn't pan out.
By mid-morning, I'd scored on five or six largemouths, knowing that under ideal conditions might very well have boated a dozen. The particular area where I was fishing sets up nicely for power fishing tactics - I often catch them there on a bladed jig reeled at a brisk pace - but the lack of wind was hurting my chances to run up the score.
Around 10 a.m., doubts began entering my head. Should I give up on my location and zip over to one of my other favorite spots? Or should I change tactics and drag a jig or worm for lethargic fish? The other option, of course, was to just plow forward and hope the fishes' moods changed.
I scanned the sky. It showed no sign of changing. Morning sun was not creating much thermal movement, so the chances of more wind seemed small. I noticed the wildlife was relatively quiet - no geese were flying, no ospreys were soaring, no squirrels were scurrying.
Based on all that I saw and didn't see, it was clear that it was just a dull day in nature. I reasoned that my time was better spent fishing than driving the boat, so I decided to keep doing what I'd been doing.
The decision soon paid off.
I made a long cast with the bladed jig, engaged the reel and made about three turns of the handle before the lure stopped cold. I snapped back on the rod and the hook found a solid connection in the jaw of a big bass.
The fish churned and jumped a foot out of the water, revealing itself as the morning's best catch, by far. I fought it to the starboard side of the Bass Cat and settled into the driver's seat to grab the bass lower jaw and swing it aboard.
At 4 pounds 15 ounces, the bass more than made up for the day's slow start. My choice to stay had paid off.
An hour later, as I reached my self-imposed deadline for the day's fishing, I spied a stump in two feet of water. Bass angler's love stumps because bass love stumps, so I worked it over carefully with a black and blue soft plastic beavertail bait.
Four dunks around the perimeter of the table-top stump failed to tease a bite, so I was about to surrender and call it a day. But my inner angler asked for one last pitch, so I eased the lure into the same place I'd already made a presentation.
The line jumped like it was electrified. I set the hook and was rewarded with a tail-dancing 3-pounder to cap my morning.
I drove back to the ramp with a grin, satisfied that I'd been stubborn enough to force-feed the finicky bass.
Jack Wollitz is the author of The Common Angler, a book that celebrates anglers' passion for fishing. Contact him at jackbbaass@gmail.com.