The script wrote itself. I'd played out a hundred different variations of how I wanted it to go. Each story had the same result: Me holding the biggest bass of my life with a huge smile on my face. I'll share the details of the catch in a bit, but first let me rewind and share why I drove 700 miles to catch a fish.
Last year I fished an online tournament through Facebook. Each angler was placed into a group based on their location with a moderator who kept track of each entry. The tournament was nation-wide but Georgia and Florida had their own group, Why? Because the bass down south are giants and to keep the competition fair, they split groups. A gentlemen by the name of Austin Prevatt from South Georgia won the tournament. Austin happened to run his own guide service as well. I knew I had to fish with this guy! He catches huge bass and he does it on a consistent basis. So I dove in and started researching and planning my trip. I reached out to Austin and we agreed on some dates at the beginning of March (strategically during the prespawn in Georgia this time of year).
Day 1 - My friend Stanley and I met up with Austin at 6 a.m. and hit the road. He decides on the fly which fishing hole we are going to. A 45 minute drive brought us to a farm pond that sat way back off a dirt road. We started off with some bank fishing to kinda see what the fish were doing. Austin caught two immediately. Eventually, we got the boat in the water and trolled around looking for bedding females. (Side note: A decent pair of polarized sunglasses works wonders when looking for fish). It didn't take long for Austin to put us on some bass. Ten hours of fishing was more than enough time to boat about 40 fish between the three of us. Including a seven pounder for Austin, a six pounder for Stanley and a handful of threes and fours for myself. I missed two huge bass due to poor hook-sets and Austin let me know about it. "Set the dayum hook like ya mean it" he teased. "I can't help ya anymore than that," he said after I whiffed on a big bedding female. I knew I let two great opportunities get away. But I was still happy with the fish we did catch.
Stanley and I talked over dinner that night and recapped how the day went. Predominantly a carp fisherman, Stanley told me how different bass fishing was compared to carp fishing. I'd be lying if I said the competitive side of me was okay with Stanley catching bigger and more bass than I did that day. I still wanted the trophy fish that I came all the way down here for. "Man if I can catch one huge fish tomorrow, I'd be stoked," I said. "Even if it's the only one I catch all day."
Day 2 - Another early meet-up with Austin got off to a rough start after I locked my keys in my car. My brain fart set us back about 50 minutes As the time passed, I became more disappointed knowing we were missing out on prime feeding time. A quick stop at the bait shop and we headed to Tired Creek Lake, a 960 acre man-made lake that Austin had pre-fished days prior. Again, going with his gut, our guide decided this lake would produce the best chance for a trophy bass. The boat settled at a tree line filled with timber jutting up from the water. Admittedly I was a little intimidated to be casting into such thick structure in fear of being hung up or snapped off by sharp sticks or heavy stumps just under the surface of the water. But any bass angler knows these fish love settling near, in or around structure. I decided to throw the Googan 10 inch Mondo Worm (pictured) I had purchased at the boat show a week before our trip.
"Just over there where those two stumps are. See em? I want you to cast right in between em," Austin advised. My first cast went left of where he instructed so I quickly reeled in and set up for my second cast. This one was good. My bait hits the water and I give it about seven seconds to fall and settle on the bottom...wait....wait...small twitch....slow reel...slow reel...THUD! Dead weight. "Dang, I'm snagged," I thought. But then my bait nose dives straight down and my rod bends like crazy. I got her! While Austin instructs me to keep tension and be patient, Stanley grabs the net. This fish is no doubt the biggest of my life and I knew I couldn't let her get away. After about a minute her fat green body comes to the surface and Stanley nets her. I'm numb standing there in disbelief. "Now that's a stud right there," shouts Austin. "I knew I brought ya'll here for a reason!"
It probably wouldn't be hard to guess how many more bass I caught the rest of the day. As I stated before, the script wrote itself and Stanley and I's dinner conversation played out exactly how I thought. I was happy as a clam fishing for nine more hours not catching a thing. Why? Because the eight pounder I came for ended up in my hands and a lifetime memory was made.
Will I break eight pounds in the future? Maybe. Maybe I won't. What I do know: Mr. Prevatt gave me all the tools I needed to break my personal best largemouth. His experience and knowledge allowed me to catch the monster I was searching for. Plus the sting of missing some big ones a day earlier went away entirely.
Photos and video of my trip to Thomasville can be found below
