Jul 6, 2018
When I first began selling jigs I would hitchhike at the boat ramp offering to pay the tourney fee in exchange for the patrons open seat. The tournaments entertained 8 to 15 boats all equipped with a 9.9 hp motor stationed neatly on the back of a Jon boat. I would fish my products throughout the day in hopes to prove their worth and consideration for the boaters collection. This tactic is how I met Jeremy Maye over two years ago, since then we’ve fished several tournaments together in the smaller watercraft. Whether I was setting a ½ oz jig into the middle of his back or he was bouncing jerk baits off of my skull, we’ve come to enjoy our tournament experience together. So when he asked if I would commit to a year long tournament trail on the James River out of Williamsburg, Virginia, I was more than happy to oblige. The schedule had one tournament a month with a two day classic show down near the end of October. After careful consideration and a good once over of the workflow and tournament relationship, I presented the case to my VERY loving Bride for her concurrence and blessing, which she gave, otherwise this article would be much shorter.
Our first tournament took place in January. Dawn begins to peak only to reveal 50 to 75 boats at blast off, hosting giant motors, top of the line electronics, anchoring systems and sponsored jerseys it was somewhat intimidating to say the least. What fishing prowess they must contain! I bet they can smell where all the big ones hang out and probably bought all the lures they eat, fiends! Jeremy’s initial strategy on the longest river in Virginia targeted mudflats lined with reeds. 45 minutes after blast off Jeremy and I found ourselves fishing a mudflat in the middle of a larger mudflat which is fisherman code for, we’re stuck in the mud. Fear not! I’m not typing from the boat in a mudflat. Who doesn't mind a little excitement at dawn! Once we free’d ourselves from our sticky predicament, we performed fairly well for our maiden voyage bringing in around 11 lbs.
The February, March and April tournaments came and went finding us still trying to put the pieces together but success continued to evade our efforts.
May gave birth to the sun and some heat allowing us to shed our 30 lb parka’s and ski gloves allowing us to feel the warmth on our faces along with the rod, reel and line in our hands. Jeremy proceeded to scan for stump fields with his propeller but after we found the second one we had to limp up to a nearby beach so we could switch out the thrust bearing. Turns out there’s a whole market out there with electronic devices that can see stump fields, trees, bushes and fish, who knew! I’ll give kudos to Jeremy though, he had an extra thrust bearing on board and in 10-15 minutes we were back up and running. Little did I know the location he chose would result in a day of days. Jeremy motored up to a spot with two 100 yd. stretches of reeds and accompanying grass merged into a recessed corner. The 8 to 10 mph breeze pushed into the shallows creating a mild amount of surface disturbance. Jeremy initiated his barrage with parallel casts two to three feet from the bank. 30 feet into our new arena Jeremy hooked into a 3 lber and right behind him I landed another 3 lb fish. Just 10 feet further he landed another but this time we upgraded to a 4 lb stud. I set into a 6 lber just to see her throw the hook in mid flight. Knuckle bumps and fist pumps started raining from the sky as we hovered over success. It had been far too long since our last good throw down during a tournament and this moment felt great. We didn’t come away with the win but we walked a little taller this go round.
Soon the dog days of summer had come and stayed with their 90-105 degree days and the fish had all but dried up for the Maye & Stradling crew. Three tournaments in a row all we
had to show for our efforts were racoon eyes and 11 lb sacks which were not reflective of the effort we put into our labor of love. Our next and last tournament was the two day classic, which had been pronounced across the Stradling lands for weeks on end so no one in the kingdom would be surprised when I disappeared for an entire weekend. I met Jeremy as usual on tournament morning at 5 a.m.
The weather was beautiful, I mean it was gorgeous. 75 degrees with a mild breeze, a real bluebird day. (Small backstory, weather reports concerning Williamsburg, have been as far off as 25 degrees and 20 mph winds. Tight Lines!) We started culling before 10 a.m. and continued to smack ‘em all day but rarely upgrading. We pressed on chucking and winding throughout the day with two nice bumpers and one final upgrade just before weigh in. The summary of the day with captain Jeremy at the helm landed us in 2nd place! He had accomplished what took 10 months of agonizing defeat told him he couldn’t. Jeremy keeps his eyes on available options for success, being in the military for 20+ years, this is a characteristic I can appreciate! Day two begins a touch warmer with 25 to 30 mph winds and rain, rain and more rain. This weather pattern eliminated places we left for later use and laid waste to our plans from yesterday. Just before we left Jeremy asked if my foul weather gear would keep me dry to which I scoffed “Of course”. As the rain began to drizzle, 36 boats made their way out to the blast off point. When our number was called the rain was in high gear and my “foul weather suit” was in granny gear! By 9 a.m. I was completely soaked. My Smartwool socks held up their end of the bargain but that’s it. With a fish here and a fish there, the rain in our faces and wind howling, the day begins to crawl. We struggle most of the day until the wind begins to relent and the fish start to chase. The bass start pushing shad into the mud flat till they’re belly crawling after anything twitching. Ole’ Hawkeye (Jeremy) sees the action behind our position and turns the boat around, whack ,3 lber in the boat, a huge upgrade. We work back to a drop off when he spy’s more action with in casting distance, Bam!, 3 lber in and another sardine out. He’s starting to rally and there’s an hour left. Creeping back into cuts that were unavailable before the rain and tide cooperated he boats two more upgrades putting us around 12 lbs. Knowing we need another kicker fish he decides to go back to where we saw them pushing around in the mud and I’ll be dipped and rolled in it if he didn’t latch into a 4 lber kicking out our last squatter. We waddled up to the scales, soaked to the bone with our best in the bag totaling out at 14 lbs and change putting us in 5th place.
What a day! Reflecting back, capturing a year of mistakes, learning, success, happiness, frustration, 2nd effort and hope. I can say without hesitation that I’ll be a tournament angler for the rest of my days. The calamity, humor and grit these competitors display is nothing short of insanity. Add in the fact that everyone calls it fishing and not catching is another reason I’ve come to love this community. They already know their behind the power curve and continue to seek their prize, regardless! I love it! If you ever have a little jingle in your pocket and the time to go out to your local bass bucket, look into some of the little derbies you have in your area. You just might find a great social scene full of great people just like you!
