Lake Champlain lies between the Adirondack and Green Mountains, and is 129 miles long. It borders New York, Vermont and Canada and is one of the deepest lakes in the Northeast.

Champlain is an absolute fish factory — home to both smallmouth and largemouth bass, many reaching trophy size. Going into the event, my aim was to test both, then decide on which had the greatest potential for success.

As it worked out, neither played in my favor.

Practice Begins

On day 1 of practice, I launched at our official take-off site in Plattsburgh, NY. From there, I ventured to the first major point on the main lake, where I found a school of 2-pound smallies holding on a rockpile in 20 feet of water. 

After drop-shotting a few on a perch-colored Shad Shape Worm, I moved further north to a series of shallow shoals. There, I found a better grade of smallmouth, most of which fell for a 1/4-ounce Ned Senko in green-pumpkin, watermelon.

Once the sweet spots were recorded on my Garmin Ecomap, I traveled even further toward Canadian waters. 

Two hours later, I backtracked to a pass in a breakwall leading to the Inland Sea. That’s when a massive thunderstorm enveloped the entire area. I spent the next hour hiding beneath a bridge with several other boats. 

Eventually the storm passed and I entered Missisquoi Bay, hoping to find a school of big largemouth. Soon after, however, another storm struck. With lightning striking all around me, I was forced to seek shelter again. Afterward, I moved to the upper end of the Inland Sea and charted a few deep spots for smallmouth.

On day 2, I decided to travel south to Ticonderoga and search for largemouth. With me was my roommate, Cliff Prince. Together, we dissected as many grassbeds as possible — Cliff in his boat, me in mine. 

Throughout the day, frequent rainsqualls passed through the area. By dusk, we had located three key stretches holding quality fish — most of which fell for a white 1/2-ounce Chatterbait tipped with a Zako trailer, and a 1/2-ounce Texas-rig Yama Craw in green-pumpkin.

On day 3, I returned to the Inland Sea to search for more smallmouth. And in two key areas, I found what I was looking for — 3- to 4-pounders holding on chunk rock in 20 to 25 feet of water. Most responded well to the drop-shot Shad Shape Worm, others took the Ned Senko.

With those areas saved, I headed back to the hotel to prep for the next day’s competition … only to learn later that B.A.S.S. officials would postpone the first day of competition, due to gale-force winds generated by Hurricane Debby.

Competition Begins

After the day of rest, the tournament director notified us that the tournament was a go. 

When I arrived at the take-off site, I noticed a large sailboat washed up on the rocks. Other boats, too, had broken loose from their moorings. Debby had done her damage and moved on, and in her wake was an eerie calm. That’s when I decided to make the hour-long run to Ticonderoga. 

I tried rallying Cliff to go with me, but he wanted to stay close and fish for smallmouth. Having all of our areas in Ty to myself, I felt I couldn’t fail. When my number was called, I headed south. 

Sixty-five miles later, I arrived to the best stretch of grass. Adrenalin pumping, I made each cast with the expectation of big bass tugging on the other end.

Unfortunately, after hours of trying, I had nothing to show for the time or effort. Unlike the conditions in practice, the skies were clear and blue, and Ticonderoga was like the Dead Sea. 

At 10:30, I finally gave up and decided to return to the upper part of the lake … hoping to salvage the day with smallmouth. But by the time I got half way back, the wind began to howl. What took an hour of run time earlier was now 30 minutes longer.

Finally, around noon, I made my first casts to a shoal where I had caught several nice smallies in practice. The first couple of bites yielded 3-pounders, then I lost one close to four. Suddenly the action died and it wasn’t until time to leave that I caught my third and final fish.

Back at the scales, I weighed a pitiful nine pounds of Lake Champlain smallmouth. The run to Ty was a choke move, and I was now faced with the consequences.

One Last Chance

The second morning of competition, I decided to try the deep smallmouth I found in the Inland Sea. When my number was called, I headed straight there.

Two hours in, however, the wind started to blow from the south, making boat control a futile challenge. Even worse, the smallmouth weren’t playing.

By 11 o’clock, I decided to abort and try some protected shoreline docks for largemouth. That yielded a number of bites, but a weak total of only 16 pounds. The tournament was a complete bust and I felt embarrassed by the results.

Next is the St. Lawrence River — a body of water I’ve had great success on. So stay tuned…