The last time the Elite Series visited lakes Moultrie and Marion, I got to fish in the finals on Championship Sunday. So to say my hopes were high going into this event would be an understatement.
More commonly referred to as the Santee Cooper Lakes, the two are connected by a manmade channel called the Diversion Canal. Combined, they offer more than 170,000 surface acres of prime bass habitat — including cypress trees, docks and fields of lily pads, hyacinths and grass. And all can be extremely productive throughout the year.
Scheduled on a full moon in late March, every angler in the field knew it would take massive weight to win this tournament. What none of us expected, however, was a blast of polar air slamming into the region before the event began.
Practice Begins
Because of the cold, I chose to launch in the back of Wyboo Creek and minimize running time on the water.
At 7am, the air temperature was 23 degrees. The water a chilly 54 — more than 15 degrees colder than the day before. I knew things would be slow, but I thought I would at least get a few bites.
I spent most of the day looking for signs of bedding activity, fan casting various reaction baits ahead of the boat while scanning the shallows. And though I saw a number of male bass staking out territories, none were fanning beds.
By the end of the day, I never had a single bite.
On day 2, I decided to run south to the lower lake. Temperatures were on the rise and my optimism with them. My first stops were to the backwater ponds adjacent to the Diversion Canal. Again, I was seeing some scattered males, but not the size needed.
Then, as I entered one last pond, I found what I was looking for — numerous 3-pound males holding in place with schools of larger females pacing slightly deeper. I recorded their locations with the GPS and kept moving.
On the final day of practice, I decided to stay in the upper lake and check the western shore near Eutaw Springs. That area served as a good backup for me the last time the Elite Series visited Santee Cooper, and I wanted to be sure I wasn’t overlooking something.
Moving from one protected location to another, I found only a few small males cruising. Dismissing that, I pulled the trolling motor and moved back across the lake to Potato Creek. That’s when I found what I was looking for.
In several small cuts off the main creek, I could see nice sized males fanning beds with slightly bigger females nearby. I knew then that I had a good backup to my backwater pond off the Diversion Canal.
Competition Time
Drawing out boat number 41, my weigh-in time was set for 4:30pm. An earlier draw would have been better, but that was the number I was dealt.
When my turn came, I exited Taw Caw Creek and drove across Lake Marion and into the Diversion Canal. Ten minutes later, I entered the backwater pond and, to my surprise, no other competitors were there ahead of me.
I couldn’t believe it.
A few minutes later, fellow Yamamoto teammate, Jay Yelas showed up. He took one side. I took the other. And in no time, Jay put his first fish in the boat. Then things came to a standstill.
Recognizing the situation, we both slowed our presentations — detailing the pad field with each cast. Eventually, I caught my first keeper on a green pumpkin, watermelon 4-inch Senko. After putting that one in the box, I trolled to another section of the pond, to look shallower. It proved to be the right move.
In one short stretch, I caught three more bass — all three pounds apiece. An hour later, I finished my limit.
Believing the bigger females would eventually show up, I kept moving around the pond searching for them. Meanwhile, Jay was stuck on two fish. And, to my surprise, he pulled his trolling motor and left. Now having the area to myself, I felt obligated to stay.
The minutes turned to hours and, though I waited patiently, the bigger fish never appeared. Finally, with an hour to go, I abandoned the small pond and headed to the upper lake to check my other area.
Once there, I culled a 2-pounder with a solid three. Then time ran out. I told my marshal I would start the next morning right where we finished the day.
Back at the scales, my limit weighed 15 pounds — slightly below the cut. I knew I had more work to do.
When the next morning came, I raced south to the cuts in Potato Creek. And when I arrived, I encountered more company than expected. Among the other boats were Matt Herren, Mike Iaconelli and, believe it or not, Jay Yelas.
Jay and I started laughing. The chances of us both pinpointing the same two areas out of a 170,000 acres of water were next to none. But that was the case. Little did it matter though. The only fish any of us caught was a 2-pounder that inhaled my frog.
After exhausting that location, I decided to move to the next cut over — to an area where I had marked several smaller males in practice. And, to my surprise, they were still there.
It took most of the day, but I finally put a limit in the boat. With an hour or so remaining, I decided to finish in another pocket closer to check-in.
When I rounded the corner, I saw several competitor boats already there. All of them were catching fish, too. Finding a section to myself, I discovered a huge pair guarding a nest. The male was easily six pounds and super agitated. But every time I placed a bait in the sweet spot, he would only circle it … never committing.
The minutes ticked away and I knew I was short of making the cut. In desperation, I got more aggressive with my presentation. Bumping the fish, trying to piss it off. But that only made things worse. It stopped reacting to the bait entirely.
Eventually time ran out and I was stuck with a 14-pound stringer. That sank me in the standings, further below the cut. Disappointed, I trailered the boat and headed home, wondering what I could have done to change the outcome.
