Seems that he entered a Bassmaster James River Northern Open in 2015, hoping for redemption from three previous abysmal showings in opens on the James. Even his practice days for those events had been woeful.
Said Hicks, "I arrived at Chickahominy Riverfront Park the week before the 2015 tournament and set up a tent camp. I needed extra time to get in tune with my boat, tackle and, especially, my casting. Life's curveballs had allowed me to fish only three mornings in 2015 prior to leaving Ohio for the James River."
He invested most of his practice time fishing wood cover in the Chickahominy River and caught bass with more regularity than in past trips to the James. He also caught a number of bass over 3 pounds.
"Several heavyweights also engulfed my Scum Frog while fishing the Chick's lush pads fields," he said. "I didn't set the hook, but some of those bass would run several feet before jumping and spitting out the bait. One of those maulers looked to be a 6-pounder.
"My plan for the first day of the tournament was to fish the pads for the initial two or three hours, while the tide was high. I was hoping to stuff one or two good bass in the livewell and then go to wood cover and fill out my limit as the tide dropped.
"My partner was Donnie Bell, a local angler who knows the James River well," continued Hicks. "He had practiced with Elite Series standout Jacob Powroznik, a Virginian who always is a threat to win on the James. Bell bewildered me when he said that he and Powroznik had gotten 30 to 50 bites on each of the three official practice days. For me, 10 bites in one day on the James is cause for a champagne celebration."
When the tournament director called their boat number, Hicks and Bell got in line and went through the boat check, then idled away from the dock, put the hammer down, and flew around the first bend as fast as his 1999 Mercury 150 XR6 could push his old bass boat. Then, the motor shut down. The "James River Jinx" had struck again.
"I restarted the engine and jumped the boat back on plane," said Hicks, "but it immediately shut down again. After a few more attempts, I checked the squeeze ball. It was sucked flat. Fuel was not flowing through to the engine. I had replaced the fuel lines and the squeeze ball with new ones the year before. I also had rebuilt the fuel pump and added a fuel-water separator to eliminate the very type of problem I was experiencing."
In near panic, Hicks cut the fuel line, bypassed the fuel-water separator and connected the line directly to the gas tank. That didn't fix the problem, though. By easing back on the throttle, the boat would push them along at about 30 mph without shutting down, and that's what Hicks did until they were about halfway to the Chick. The squeeze ball then suddenly opened, and they were able to run at full speed.
By the time they reached the Chick, they had lost an hour of the crucial early-morning/high-tide bite. Hicks only got three blowups from bass that never engulfed his frog. Meanwhile, Bell caught two keepers, casting other baits to the edge of the pads.
It now was time to fish wood cover, so they headed toward one of the three creeks on the Chick that were on Hicks' hit list. Then, the engine bogged badly. The squeeze ball had sucked flat again.
The duo stopped at a marina and spent the next 90 minutes or so working on the boat. They checked the fuel pickup in the gas tank. It was clear. Hicks also bought another squeeze ball and swapped it with the one on the boat, and the motor ran perfectly the rest of the day...problem solved, or so they thought. The question now was: "Do we go to my fish in the Chick or Bell's fish that were on the way back?"
Hicks knew it would be a challenge to catch five bass from his backwater spots, with the limited time left, and Bell's comment of "30 to 50 bites a day" still was ringing in his ears. He decided the better chance of filling a limit was with Bell's fish. "Perhaps I might also learn something new about fishing the James," he thought.
Hicks and Bell flew out of the Chick and wound up in a very narrow and very shallow creek that was at the tail end of a slow, outgoing tide. Bell was casting a wacky-rigged worm, with no weight, on the edge of a submerged grass line along the bank. He soon caught three bass, only one of which passed muster.
Meanwhile, Hicks was fishing a Texas-rigged Strike King KVD finesse worm, with a 1/16th-ounce sinker. He couldn't get a sniff.
"Your bait has to float with the current to make these fish bite," said Bell, so Hicks dropped to a 1/32nd-ounce sinker, and that made the difference. With time running out, Bell caught two more small keepers, and Hicks boated two bass that made it to the livewell, one of which weighed 3 pounds. Bell's three-bass co-angler limit weighed about 5 pounds and kept him within range of cashing a check, but Hicks had only 4 pounds, which quashed any chance of a strong finish.
Hicks second-day partner was Michael Barton, a young angler from New York who had caught only one bass the first day. The two of them were literally and figuratively in the same boat...needing a big catch.
After passing through boat inspection, Hicks jumped the boat on plane and sped around the first bend, only to have the motor shut down yet again. The James River Jinx had morphed into a curse. It was the same problem as the day before.
Hicks idled back to the ramp and consulted with the Mercury support technician, who told him the steps he had taken to run down the problem were right. The technician, however, suspected that the pickup tube in the gas tank was the real issue.
Said Hicks, "I cut off the bottom of the pickup tube, strapped a tungsten sinker to it, and stuck it back in the gas tank. With the first hour of our fishing day lost, I put the boat on plane for the second time. At the same time, I caught a glimpse of my partner crossing himself. I knew exactly how he felt.
"We rounded the first bend, then the outboard balked again. There would be no run to the Chick. We instead limped to the Appomattox River and spent the day fishing anything between the two outer bridges that looked capable of holding a bass. I caught three small keepers, and Barton lost a huge bass right at the end of the day.
"The engine ran even worse on the way back. I barely could keep it on plane and ended up 4 minutes late. The 4-pound penalty I incurred surpassed the 3-15 that my three paltry bass weighed.
"When I returned home," Hicks continued, "I took my boat to Schwarzel Marine in Hockingsport, Ohio. It didn't take their two mechanics long to determine that the problem indeed was the pickup tube in the gas tank. It was sucking air between the aluminum fitting in the top of the gas tank and the plastic tube that extends into the tank from the fitting. Ethanol had eaten away the adhesive."
John Schwarzel, one of the mechanics, made a custom pickup tube from a copper line soldered to a brass fitting. It solved the problem for good...air never again will get into the line.
As I was reading this account, couldn't help wondering if maybe there was a banana hidden somewhere on Hicks' boat. That may just be an old superstition, but a lot of captains won't allow them on their ships to this day.
And speaking of superstitions, while Sailors believed that women onboard would anger the sea, causing rough and stormy conditions, they also believed a naked woman or one exposing a bare chest would bring good luck. Perhaps that explains why, back in the day, I used to find a few "big boys" sailing along the North Landing with a woman or two standing tall out on deck, exposing their bare chests to all who happened to be passing by. Don't find any of that "eyeball liberty" these days, though.
No comments:
Post a Comment