Each year, the Bassmaster Elite Series travels to Lake Fork — the renowned trophy bass destination in East Texas. Although small by tour standards, the lake supports a healthy population of bass and enough habitat to find something to yourself.
Normally we visit this impoundment in late spring, but this year B.A.S.S. decided to move the date to February — a somewhat risky move considering the potential for blistering winter fronts.
Keeping that in mind, I decided to focus on the more protected parts of the lake, just in case.
Practice Begins
On day 1, I launched in the western arm near the Highway 515 Bridge. From there, I moved north into a creek above the bridge. Almost immediately, I began connecting with nice fish by throwing a Chatterbait with Yamamoto Zako trailer.
After discovering the early morning bank bite, I decided to try the standing timber in the center of the creek. There, too, I connected with some quality bass — this time by using forward-facing sonar (FFW) and throwing a Shimano World Minnow jerkbait.
When the sun got higher and the water temperature rose, I moved back to the bank to find more shallow fish, using a Macbeth 75F square-bill crankbait. By day’s end, I had recorded a number of good areas.
On day 2, the wind was howling out of the southwest. So, I launched in the eastern arm and headed south to the dam. Scanning the riprap, I saw only scattered fish — nothing that made me want to stop. From there I moved to a nearby creek to check the standing timber for suspended fish. It was slow, but I managed to connect with a couple of four pounders using a Yamamoto D-Shad rigged to a ¼-ounce jighead.
Near the mouth of the creek was a small pocket. When I entered, I noticed a couple of weekenders reeling in a big fish. Once they had that one aboard, they threw out and caught another … then another. Rather than crowd them, I decided to move to the next pocket over where I scored with the Chatterbait-Zako combo. I knew then that I would fish the area come tournament time. I spent the remainder of the day probing several creek arms, hoping to find another concentration of bass.
On day 3 of practice, I ran far up the eastern arm to try several areas. Again, I scored, but only in one short stretch of bank.
Realizing that I was spreading myself out, I decided to abort and move back to the western fork. That’s when I found a small pocket holding some quality fish, some of which were beginning to fan beds.
Filing that way, I ramped out to fuel up and prep my tackle for the competition ahead.
Tourney Time
Having a late draw in the take-off order, I wondered which of my better spots would be taken. When my number was called, I exited the launch site and ran directly to the creek near the dam … hoping the two locals I saw during practice would be gone.
As I neared the point separating the pocket from the main lake, I noticed another competitor fishing the standing timber on the point. When I passed him and shut down, he started trolling at high speed toward the back of the pocket. It was Trey McKinney, a newcomer to the Elite Series.
As I idled through the timber, he angled toward the back of the creek with his trolling motor on high, obviously trying to cut me off. Seeing that, I killed the engine and stood to drop the trolling motor. That’s when he asked what my plan was. I told him I was going to fish the pocket and to go where he needed to.
Unfortunately, he chose the best part and immediately scored a 6-pounder. Once it was weighed and released, he apologized for cutting me off … saying that he was stressed out, and worried that someone else might find the same fish.
After sharing the pocket for a while, Trey returned to the point where he started and quickly boated another big fish. Then another. Shortly after, I lost a 4-pounder on the Chatterbait. Frustrated, I decided to move to the next pocket over. There, I caught a 3-pounder, but that was it.
By now, the wind was blowing at gale force and the morning was slowly slipping away. I had to make a decision; either stay and try to beat out a limit, or move to my next best spot. I decided to move.
Quickly after arriving, I scored two quick keepers on the Chatterbait-Zako combo. Then I scored a solid 6-pounder, and that offered some hope.
After a long lull, I scored another female just shy of seven pounds. Believing I had saved the day, I backed off and moved closer to weigh-in. When the clock ran out, I beached the boat only to learn that my 19 pounds had me mired in 78th place.
Shocked and baffled, I wondered how so many huge stringers were caught in gale-force winds. There were 13 five-fish stringers over 30 pounds! What made matters worse was finding out that Trey McKinney was leading with 37 pounds of fish … all from the area I started in!
One Last Chance
The next morning, I gambled and ran up the eastern arm, hoping to catch a quick limit off the bank. It didn’t happen. The water was much cooler and dirtier than during practice. Trying to decide my next move, I opted to return to the creek by the dam, hoping McKinney had found another place to fish.
Unfortunately, he was anchored in the back of the small pocket — right where we butted heads the morning prior. Seeing that, I decided to fish the timber outside the pocket instead.
Using my Garmin LiveScope, I discovered schools of fish holding in several deep brush piles. They looked big, and it gave me hope. But after more than three hours of trying multiple lures and presentations, all I had to show for the effort were two missed fish. One had pulled the hook, the other broke off in the brush … and both felt big.
Meanwhile, rookie McKinney was running up the score. It was hard to watch, so I decided to move to the small pocket where I caught the six-pounders on day 1.
When I arrived, things looked different. There was less water on the bank and the newly formed beds were now empty. I told my marshal the fish might have moved to the first drop-off. After fishing most of the pocket without a bite, I came to a small laydown. Weaving the jerkbait through its branches, I saw a large flash and my bait suddenly disappeared. When I set the hook, a massive fish came to the surface, throwing water in every direction. My heart was in my throat. But after several strong runs and a couple of frantic jumps, I managed to pull the behemoth boat side and over the gunnel.
My marshal, ready with the scale, called out a weight of “nine pounds even!”
A few quick photos later, I released her and prayed for two more big bites — knowing it would be my only chance of making the cut. Unfortunately, that was the last keeper bite I had all day.
Back at weigh-in, I learned the catch was off for most of the field. Still, some big stringers were weighed and the cutline was stout.
Disgusted with my performance, I trailered the boat and headed back to the hotel, where I found a few other pros who had failed to make the cut. Sharing in their frustration over a cold beer, we eventually headed to dinner. It had been a frustrating two weeks and I was ready for home.
Next up is the Harris Chain of Lakes. Stay tuned…