East to West

Mile's Burghoff on the adjustmens he needs to make

(Editor’s Note: The writer's opinions and observations expressed here are his own, and do not necessarily reflect or represent the views, policies or positions of FLW.)

As a tournament angler, I realize that a primary aspect of my job is to be able to catch fish anywhere, in all types of fisheries, under a variety of conditions.

Throughout my life, I’ve been fortunate to experience fishing in almost all regions of the country – from California to Connecticut, from Alaska to Florida, and everywhere in between. That’s not to say I’ve mastered every region. Most of my experience on the water has come in the Southeast, which is where I went to college at the University of Central Florida and competed in FLW College Fishing.

While it’s true that I grew up in northern California, when I was a kid I didn’t have a boat and there always seemed to be schoolwork or something else going on to keep me occupied. Consequently, I didn’t spend a lot of time fishing in the West, and that’s one of my biggest regrets.

The West harbors some of the most diverse, challenging and exciting fisheries in the country, and it’s known to have been the birthplace for some of the most effective fishing styles and baits in the sport.

Now that I’m out of school, I have a new opportunity to learn what the Golden State – and the surrounding states – has to offer. I recently moved from Florida back to California, and I’m competing against the hammers who fish the Western Division of the Rayovac FLW Series.

I recently took part in the first stop of the Western Division on Lake Havasu, where I finished in 66th place. It seems that the fishing lessons in my “new” home are already beginning.

Dazed in the Desert

When the 2015 Western Division schedule was released, I knew right off the bat that Lake Havasu would be my biggest challenge of the season. I had heard a lot about lakes on the Colorado River system, such as Mead and Havasu, but I honestly didn’t know what to expect when I made the long drive across the Mohave Desert into the town of Lake Havasu City, Ariz., for practice.

My research suggested what techniques were most popular on Havasu, what kind of water clarity to expect there and what parts of the lake would likely produce the winning fish, but I had no idea how the bass would behave until I started fishing.

As is my normal pre-tournament research ritual, I really didn’t seek out too much local information. Getting too much help has always worked against me, though getting general information about any lake is always important. I concluded that the “basin,” or the widest part of the lake, was most likely to produce the winning fish, and I had a list of tackle to try: swimbaits, umbrella rigs, crankbaits, ChatterBaits and finesse options. All this gave me a starting point; I wanted to do the rest by myself. After the first several days of practice I realized that Havasu is unlike any lake I have ever fished, and it was fishing tougher than normal. I was only getting between two and four bites per day, and I can honestly say that I was a little frustrated and, well … stumped.

The first couple days I began by exploring the places in the basin where conventional wisdom had it that the winning stringer would come from (which is exactly where it was caught), but I wasn’t getting the type of bites I was really looking for and eventually eliminated the area. Next, I traveled down south to the narrower part of the lake, trying to catch fish on the techniques my research suggested would work. And again there was a letdown. I only had a couple of bites, and a gut feeling kept trying to pull me in a different direction.

At some point during a practice period an angler needs to make the decision to scrap what he’s doing and focus on his strengths. That’s exactly what I did. After looking at both ends of the lake, I ended up getting some good action by flipping reeds in the southern end, and although I knew the pattern wouldn’t produce a winning weight, I figured I could make a quality check. I also ended up finding a pattern that involved skipping docks in marinas near the London Bridge with a Z-Man Finesse ShroomZ jighead tipped with the Z-Man TRD worm.

I went into the tournament with tempered optimism, knowing that I needed to execute perfectly in order to piece together a solid finish.

A Swing and a Miss

I was pleasantly surprised to find my flipping area to be relatively void of fishing pressure from other competitors on the first day, and as a result I thought I should have been able to get six to eight bites before the fish shut down around midday.

Unfortunately, I lost my first three fish. Finally, I was able to boat a keeper, and then another, and another, and then one more. At 11 a.m. I had four quality keepers in the boat, and I was positive I could catch another and start culling soon. Boy, was I wrong. I didn’t get another bite. Out of desperation I spent the last few minutes of the day plying my dock pattern on the north end. I ended up with four fish weighing 8 pounds, 11 ounces.

The next day I vowed to miss no fish, but that was like making a New Year’s resolution to eat no more donuts. I didn’t follow through, and I ended up missing the first few fish of the day. At noon I had two small keepers in the well, and the bite in the reeds was pretty much dead.

For the last couple hours I ran offshore stuff that I had little confidence in, and, no surprise, I didn’t get a bite. So I dug out my spinning rod with the TRD worm and decided to run to a small area right around the London Bridge. On one of the first docks I pulled up to, I had a largemouth in the 5-pound class chase the TRD out from under a shady dock, but turn away at the last minute. At least I felt confident I was doing the right thing.

On the very next dock I reared back on a quality keeper and ended up sliding my third fish into the well. My instincts were really taking over by then. Soon thereafter I hooked into another good keeper, netted it and did a little celebratory dance in front of the crowd that was gathering on the shoreline. I told myself that all I needed was one more solid fish and I would go home with a check.

While rotating through my best water one last time, I made an exceptional skip-cast under what had become my favorite floating dock. The small finesse bait only sank about a foot before the line jumped. I set the hook, and the fish felt exactly like what I was looking for – and then the line went slack. It was the last bite I would get that day, and again I ended with four fish, this time for only 7 pounds.

And that’s how I ended my first Western Division Rayovac in 66th place out of 152 boats and failed to earn a check.

Not Content

We all want to win, or at the very least make a check. Anything else is failure, right? Not in my book.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not the type to be content with a mediocre finish – not by a long shot. I’m not satisfied with how I performed at Havasu, or especially my finish. However, I know that the beating I received at this extremely tough event will help me to fish better the next time that Havasu is on the schedule.

That’s what my journey in the West is all about – learning to adjust in order to compete with the best in my region. Make no mistake, the fishing over here is a new frontier for an angler who cut his teeth in the Southeast. I have a long way to go, but the little bit of a beatdown I received at Havasu has gotten me pretty fired up to face the next challenge.

Miles “Sonar” Burghoff competes in the Rayovac FLW Series Western Division and is a former competitor on the FLW College Fishing circuit. He is also a co-host of Sweetwater TV. Follow along with Sonar this year as he documents his transition from the East to the West.