F ishing tournaments are a funny thing—anath-ema to some, raison d’être to others. The Flyfish Journal’s editorial crew falls decidedly closer to the anathema end of the spectrum, but after invitations to a couple of tournaments in mid-2023—the Cheeky Schoolie Tournament in Cape Cod and the Schmoots Clooper Invitational carp tournament in eastern Washington state—the two were surprised to find that perhaps they do have a competitive bone some-where in their bodies (however small). It turns out the sweet smell of victory is varied as a field of wildflowers. In these tournaments participation trophies are the true grand prize. Jason Rolfe and Copi Vojta sat down for a post-piscatorem when the dust had settled in an effort to make sense of this new “competitive” landscape and share a few reflections on the value these events hold for the futures of our fisheries. CV : Yeah, there’s some animalistic urge there for sure. I was involved in team sports prior to learning to flyfish and, perhaps ironically, once I did begin to fish, I pretty much stopped with all of the team sports. I can’t say it was because of the fishing. I was just growing into new things, realizing I enjoyed the solace and mellower times of fishing more than the organized fields of play. It can be a beautiful thing though, knowing your teammates or boatmates well enough to become one thing working together. You’ve told me stories of your bike polo days, travel-ing the country to compete, and I can’t help but see parallels between those matches and some flyfishing tournaments. Was the result as important as bonding with teammates and peers and meeting other people who shared similar interests and talents? • CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT • 2023 Schmoots Clooper Invitational first-and second-place winners Travis Hammond (L) and Brad Sweet bask in the desert heat after two days of carp fishing on Banks Lake, WA. Both anglers had near-double-digit days and took home much more than just bragging rights and prizes. The evening scene at the Ala Cozy Motel in Coulee City, WA, prior to the first day of the Schmoots Clooper Invitational. Everyone crowded into the shade as organizer Bill Marts detailed the weekend festivities by sharing productive bays and shorelines, hot flies, cool drinks and rules and regulations for the tournament and fishery. The Schmoots Clooper piscatorial goal: a fly-caught carp, and hopefully plenty of them. The first day brought calm movements of the air, mostly copious amounts of happy carp, and miles of smiles between the group. COPI VOJTA : When I first started flyfishing as a teenager, I had one other friend who also fly-fished. We’d get dropped off at a lake by one of our parents and picked up at the end of the day. Usually, things would start with the two of us agreeing on a $5 bet for the first fish, most fish and biggest fish. First, most, biggest. I usually lost, as my friend was a better angler than me, or just luckier. Being out-fished and losing paper-route money sucked, even if in the name of fun. As I aged out of these friendly bets, I lost any competitive spirit toward fishing I had. Competition and fishing didn’t jive for me. Fast forward 10 years into my shop rat days and I realized organized fish-ing competitions were a thing. Still not for me, but I was learning about more and more of them, and their popularity. Now it’s come full circle: I’ve been to two fishing “competitions” in the last year—the Cheeky Schoolie Tournament in Cape Cod and the Schmoots Clooper Invitational in eastern Washington—and in spite of myself I had a good time. JR : Bike polo was taken seriously, but it was also a big party. It was something that had a long tra-dition of competition. It ’s hard not to appreciate something like a permit tournament, though—the lengths that angler and guide go to in order to make of themselves a single, tightly controlled organism. I can appreciate the dedication in the same way I can appreciate the dedication of an artist perfecting a line or tennis player dialing their serve. Painstaking comes to mind. Deprivation even. Commitment. It may be one path to enlightenment. Still, if there is a competitive bone left in my body, it’s most comfortable at the other extreme of “compe-tition,” in something like the Bill Marts’ Schmoots Clooper tourney. You love carping more than just about anyone I know (perhaps excepting Bill). How did it feel to make a competition out of it, so far as you actually did? CV : I was hesitant to bring any competitive energy back to a day of fishing, but after the first evening’s festivities at the Ala Cozy Hotel in Coulee City, I realized it was just a bunch of like-minded, carp-obsessed anglers getting together with some loose restraints and calling it a “tournament.” It wasn’t about who was going to get the first, most, or big-gest, even though there were prizes for two of those categories. Bill just enjoys bringing folks together in the oddest of places to tell fish tales, show JASON ROLFE : It’s funny when you think about it, that urge to turn everything into a competi-tion, instilled in us when we’re very young. There’s probably an evolutionary basis to it, though not being a biologist or sociologist, I wouldn’t know what name to put on the phenomenon. THE FLYFISH JOURNAL 081
The Flyfish Journal The Flyfish Journal 15.4: Page 79
