Beatin' the Bank - 2021 St. Johns River B.A.S.S. Elite

By Bernie Schultz

Although the St. Johns flows within an hour of my North Florida residence, I hardly consider it my home waters. In fact, I rarely fish there.

The river is inconsistent and unpredictable. You can find an abundance of fish in an area one day and possibly never see them there again. It seems they are nomadic — following the bait or the tide that moves them.

That said, the St. Johns can produce some really big catches of Florida-strain largemouth. And this trip was no exception.

Practice Begins

On the first day of official practice, I launched at Kenwood Park on Rodman Reservoir — also known as Rodman Pool or Lake Ocklawaha. There, I knew I would find an abundance of matted vegetation that might hold the winning stringer of bass. Or, perhaps a bedding area that would attract large females.

I dropped the trolling motor at the ramp and fished my way into the main pool. Along the way, I got a couple of bites flipping matted hyacinths and dollar weed. Neither felt like much, so I pressed on.

My next stop was near Orange Springs, slightly upriver from Kenwood. There, I got a number of bites by alternating with a topwater prop bait and a weightless Senko. Those bites, combined with a projected warming trend, led me to believe those two options would improve throughout the week.

The rest of the day was spent moving from one area to another in an effort to duplicate the pattern, while also keeping the flipping bite honest.

On day 2, I trailered south to the town of Astor. Once in the water, I headed straight for the springs on the western shore of Lake George, hoping to find some bedding bass. And I did. In fact, fish were moving in throughout the day, showing strong potential for those areas. However, with the fish came a flood of other competitors plying the same water. I knew then it would be “take a number.”

From there, I ventured into several canals in Astor. Although I found fish, their size was unimpressive. And again, there were too many competitors.

My next stop was Lake Dexter, to the south.

Dexter features a sea of lily pads spread across an expansive shallow mud flat. The challenge there is to pinpoint the fish in specific areas, and hope they hold until your return.

Again, I got bites. But none made me feel like I was in a winning area.

On the final day of practice, I returned to Rodman — to fish the opposite end of the pool. Almost immediately, I ran into fish. The right kind, too. At that point, I was committed.

Competition Time

On the first morning of competition, dense fog enveloped the riverfront park at Palatka — our take-off and check-in site for the event. Visibility was less than 50 yards, which created an obvious safety concern.

At that point, it became a waiting game. More than three hours later, we were still in a holding pattern.

Finally, at 10:15am, the first boat left take-off. Twenty minutes later, my number was called. As I idled through checkout, I wondered how many boats would also go to Rodman. It seemed every boat ahead of me took that heading.

When I arrived at the lock, I noticed more than a dozen other boats already there.

Idling through the crowd, I moved to the front of the chamber, tying off to Clark Wendlandt and Ed Loughran. Traveling with us were a mother manatee and her two calves. Watching them nose their way to the crease in the gates, it was clear she had made the trek before.

Twenty minutes later, we exited and raced down the Barge Canal into the lake.

Ironically, Clark and Ed both headed for the same starting spot — a small boat ramp area near the dam. We each dropped our trolling motors and went to work.

I stopped on a pair of bedders, hoping to catch the female first, but she moved off and never returned. After some coaxing, I finally put the 2-pound male in the boat. A few minutes later, I caught another. Then a long draught set in.

Dictated by a set locking schedule, I had only 2½ hours to fish. The time raced by and, finally, I stuck one more keeper before having to leave.

Back at weigh-in, it was clear that the short day compromised the day’s catch. Only a few anglers had big weight. The rest of us suffered. My three keepers totaled a meager six pounds. Surprisingly, however, that was only a pound off the pace.

The next morning — after a brief fog delay — the tournament director let us go.

Having some cushion ahead of our set locking time, I made a stop at a canal on the way. In minutes, I missed two fish that flashed on a Chatterbait. Filing their location away, I pulled the trolling motor and headed to the lock.

Once through and back to my starting spot in Rodman, I went to work with the weightless Senko. It took a while, but I eventually put a few small keepers in the boat. Knowing I needed more, I kept trying the prop bait — hoping to aggravate a big fish. Finally, at midday I got my first reaction when a 3½-pounder crushed the bait. After putting that one in the box, I was fully committed to the topwater.

Twenty minutes later, I caught a 4-pounder. Thirty minutes after that, a 5½ slammed it. And just before it was time to leave, I added one just shy of six pounds to the livewell. I knew then I would easily make the cut.

Fishing on the Weekend

Anytime you make it to the weekend, it’s like all the pressure is released. The only exception might be if you’re at the top of the leader board with a chance to win. Otherwise, it’s a free and easy feeling that brings a relaxed, stress-free day of fishing.

That’s precisely how I felt entering Rodman Pool on the third consecutive day.

Back at my starting area, I began with the topwater — determined to make it work. But, for whatever reason, it wasn’t until midday again that the first topwater strike came. To that point, my strikes came with the weightless Senko.

Although I caught the same number of fish as the day prior, I was unable to coax the bigger fish. I ended the day with 11 pounds, and a tournament total of just over 36 pounds. Not a bad start to the season, especially after dodging the day-1 bullet.

Now onto the next one…