The day finally arrived to leave for Clarks Hill. I headed that way with only one day of practice set up with a local angler. My regular practice partner who is from Louisina was not going to be fishing this tournament due to her job along with two back-to-back hurricanes. I knew I had to make the most of that one day as there would be no official practice time for me, and I was still worried about the hydrilla. I was going to have to be a quick learner, come up with a game plan, and find some sort of peace to get me through this tournament. It was difficult to ignore anything about the Championship as that was the topic of conversation among the ladies.
I spent my practice day taking detailed mental notes on lures, colors, and techniques. I tried what I was told to try and fished it all with the belief that I would catch fish when I needed to the most. I came off the water that day content that I could do what needed to be done. I questioned whether I should let official practice pass me by without asking one of the other ladies for some time on the water. I struggled with that for a while but finally decided that I would actually hurt myself more than help myself. I have never questioned my final decision. So while the ladies were out on the water practicing, I was running errands, walking, and making sure my equipment was ready.
Tournament time finally arrived. The first day I was paired with the first boater I had to start my career in 2006. I felt good about my plan for the day but, as you know, the fish don't always cooperate. We fished the grass as that is almost all there is to fish this time of year. I stuck to what I had learned while I was there and was able to take one squeaker fish to the weigh-in. It weighed a whopping 13 oz., but even that is worth a few points. I'll admit I was a little worried that I would not make the cut but remembered that I still had another day of fishing. I drew yet another angler I had been with before and I was fully confident in her ability to find fish.
That evening consisted of dinner, cleaning up and retying. Once all was ready to go for Friday I went to bed exhausted and fell into a deep sleep. If only it could have lasted the whole night I would have been quite refreshed the next morning but that was not to be. I woke up around 12:30 a.m. and quickly realized that I had a severe headache that would not allow me to get up for some medicine. It took me about 15 minutes to accomplish that at which time I became extremely nauseated. It was evident that it was going to be a very long night or should I say short night as my alarm would be going off at 4:00 a.m.
I spent the next couple of hours running back and forth to the restroom dealing with what I thought was a stomach virus. The worst part was finding myself wondering if I would be able to fish the second day of the tournament or if I was done for the year. At what point do you make that kind of decision? Being sick on someone else's boat is not fair to them so I had to think of my boater as well as my own well-being. I knew the winds were supposed to be higher and the water would be choppy. My options were to fish and would I tell my boater that I had been sick all night or to not fish and be prepared to go home with it possibly being the end of my season. So I prayed that God would give me the wisdom to know what to do and to be at peace with my decision.
By the time the alarm sounded my stomach problems had settled down and my headache had eased a little. I asked the others if they had anything for nausea that I could take throughout the day but no one had what I needed. I decided to get up and try to get ready still not having made my final decision. I moved slowly but with purpose and tried to forget the last few hours. When I realized that I had spent 30 minutes getting ready to leave and had not run to the restroom I decided I would try to fish. I was nervous about my decision but felt like it was the right one and that I would not be a hindrance to my boater. I also decided that I would not tell her. I wanted her to think only of her fishing as she was having a good tournament so far.
I was actually scared to be in the boat, especially when launching and feeling that first sway of the boat on the water. The anticipation of the day that you feel right before blast off is enough but to add an upset stomach to that really seemed to be a test. I wanted to sink on the inside but found myself struggling and continually searching for a normal feeling. I truly felt weak, angry, and very apprehensive. But then came a giant U.S. flag flying out in front of us from the front deck of one of the boats with a great song playing in the background dedicated to the MIA/POWs. That was all it took for me to turn from my self-pity to realizing how fortunate I was to be there. The tears flowed as I listened to the song, gave thanks for my freedom, wished I could give my Marine son a big hug and thank you, and found myself at the top of the mountain. Things had been put into perspective and I had made a successful climb to where I needed to be.
