Under the blazing midday sun, the final day of the competition was reaching its peak. Both Colin Schneider and Brandon Rockafellow had fish on their lines, each locked in the same high-stakes moment. Schneider’s rod was bent hard, the reel humming as he fought what felt like a strong catch. Just as the fish surfaced in a flash of movement, a sharp snap rang out. Schneider’s reel jammed. For a moment, everything froze with the broken reel in his hand. Would Schneider be able to secure the catch at a chance for victory, or would the competition slip away from his grasp?
Fishing is a sport of patience, precision, and sometimes, a bit of luck. Every seasoned angler knows that the key to success isn’t just about casting your line; it’s about preparation, understanding the water, and anticipating the next move. We put our knowledge and fishing skills to the test with the ultimate fishing competition.
Over three days and approximately one hour and fifteen minutes of fishing, we tried to catch as many fish as we could using nothing but worms and bobbers. Throughout this challenge, we kept track of fish count and species to help us determine the winner.
Colin’s Preparation: My earliest memories are of early mornings and late nights on the water. Over the years, I’ve learned many techniques to locate and catch fish. I’ve studied the fishing techniques of many professional fishermen, like Kevin VanDam and Jeremy Wade. I’ve won three tournaments and counting. For this competition, I am going to prepare by enhancing my skills, fishing throughout the week to come up with the best strategies to win. Brandon Rockafellow will have no chance of beating me in this competition.
Brandon’s preparation:
I’ve grown up fishing my whole life, so I’ve always had a solid foundation in it. For this challenge, I’m planning to brush up on my skills and knowledge. Over the next week, leading up to our fishing days, I’ll watch pond fishing videos on YouTube. I’ll focus on the techniques and strategies the anglers use and figure out how to incorporate them into my game. The mix of what I already know, along with the new tips I pick up, should give me a real edge when I go up against Colin Schneider. With a little extra prep, I’m feeling pretty confident I can beat him.
Colin’s Competition Day 1:
Today, we headed out to Hawthorn Pond for a fishing trip. Right off the bat, I spotted a fisherman nearby reeling in a crappie that had to be at least 13 inches. It was my first time fishing at Hawthorn, but from what I had heard and now seen firsthand, it seemed like a well-stocked pond. We set the timer for 30 minutes, and we cast out our lines.
The first stretch was slow, feeling the minutes drag on. Then, suddenly, I felt a sharp twitch on my line. I glanced up and noticed my bobber had vanished. Before I could react, the line surged, and I was hooked. With a steady pull, I reeled in my first bluegill of the day, a small but satisfying catch.
After that, things went quiet again. The water was still, and the only movement I saw was the occasional bluegill nibbling at my worms without actually biting. For about ten minutes, my hook came back empty every time I reeled in. No bites, just the frustration of watching the line stay still.
Feeling the sting of disappointment, Rockafellow and I decided to call it quits after those uneventful ten minutes. Despite my high expectations for Hawthorn, it didn’t deliver the action I had hoped for.
Brandon’s Competition Day 1:
Day one of the competition took us somewhere new. We decided to kick things off at Hawthorn Pond, a quiet spot near Zeeland we had never been to before. As we drove, we talked about the possibilities, wondering what might be swimming beneath the surface. Neither of us knew what to expect, but that uncertainty added to the excitement. It felt like the start of something.
When we pulled in, we saw several people already fishing along the shoreline. That gave us a boost of confidence. If they were out here, maybe we had picked a good place. Across the water, tucked behind a small clearing, was a quiet spot that looked promising. We grabbed our gear and made our way over, already imagining what the next forty-five minutes might bring.
We set our things on a bench, got our lines ready, and cast out. The clock had started.
Almost right away, my bobber dipped beneath the surface. I snapped to attention and gave my rod a quick tug before reeling in. For a second, I thought I had it, but when the hook came up empty with no fish and no worm, I felt the sting of a missed chance. I tried not to let it get to me, but I could not help wondering if I had just blown the perfect start.
The next half hour crept by. We got a few light bites, but nothing committed. The water stayed mostly calm, the bobbers barely moved, and the energy we had at the start began to fade. I kept casting, hoping each time the next one would be different.
With just five minutes left on the timer, something finally shifted. I was reeling in slowly, ready to reset for another cast, when I felt a sudden pull. The tension on the line was real this time. My pulse picked up as I reeled the fish in, careful not to lose it.
As it came closer, I could see its size and laughed. It was one of the smallest bluegills I had ever caught, barely bigger than the hook itself. It could have been used as bait. But none of that mattered. It was a fish, and it counted. I was officially on the board and in the lead.
The final few minutes passed quietly. A few more nibbles here and there, but nothing serious. That tiny bluegill would end up being my only catch of the day.
Colin’s Competition Day 2 :
Day two was a very familiar area to me, this was the water I’d been fishing for years, my own backyard pond. I knew where the fish liked to hide. But I also knew that Rockafellow wasn’t a rookie. He was just as familiar with this water as I was, and he knew where those fish were, too.
I started by casting out in about six feet of water, right off the edge of a stand of reeds that had always seemed to be a hot spot. Less than thirty seconds later, the bobber shot down, plunging down three feet before I even had a chance to react. Instinct took over, and I set the hook with a swift jerk of the rod.
The fish on the other end was no slouch. My drag screamed as it tore line from the spool, and I felt my heart race. For a moment, I thought I might have hooked into something bigger, maybe a bass. A bass would’ve been the fish that could give me a solid lead and put a real dent in Rockafellow’s confidence. But as the battle came to a close, the truth became clear. The tugging wasn’t quite as violent as I expected, and soon enough, I saw the unmistakable flash of a bluegill’s silvery scales. It wasn’t the bass I’d hoped for, just a big bluegill.
It was a good fish, no doubt, but in that moment, disappointment overwhelmed me. The bluegill wasn’t the game-changer I needed. I quickly reeled it in, casting again with the quiet knowledge that Rockafellow would be out there, just as ready as I was, keeping his eyes on the water, waiting for his opportunity.
By the end of the day, I had managed to land 18 bluegill. It wasn’t the monster fish I had been hoping for, but they were solid, respectable catches, one after another. Each time I hooked another, I felt that familiar sense of satisfaction, though it wasn’t the big win I had imagined. Rockafellow was still out there, and I knew I’d have to work harder to keep the edge. The competition was still very much alive, and the stakes felt a little higher with every fish I reeled in. The day wasn’t over, but I was starting to understand just how much ground I had to make up.
Brandon’s Competition Day 2:
Day two started a little differently. Instead of venturing out somewhere new, we decided to keep things simple and fish at Schneider’s backyard pond. We have spent so many summers casting lines there that it almost feels like home. The air was warm, the sky clear, and everything about the morning felt just right. With the competition tied at one bluegill each, it felt like we were starting fresh. I had a good feeling about that day, and that gave me a quiet, steady confidence as we got ready.
We rigged up our bobbers and worms, each falling into the rhythm we knew so well. I found my usual spot near the deeper end, where the sun hit the water just enough to stir some movement beneath the surface. My first cast barely had time to settle before the bobber plunged underwater. I gave the rod a quick, practiced tug and started reeling. Just like that, I had the first fish of the day.
It was a solid bluegill, not tiny like yesterday’s catch, and it fought just enough to make it satisfying. That catch opened the floodgates. For the next thirty minutes, I was locked in. Cast, wait, strike, reel. Over and over again. Fish after fish came in, all good size and clean hooks. By the time I looked up from the line, I was already at thirteen.
But Schneider was not far behind. I glanced across the pond and saw him tallying his fifteenth catch. I knew I needed to make a move. That was when I decided to head toward the reeds on the far edge of the pond. We have seen bass lurking there before, and I figured it was worth the risk.
I cast in and waited, letting the worm settle in the shadows. Just a minute passed before the bobber was yanked hard underwater. I set the hook and started to reel, but right away I could tell this fish was different. It was not darting like a bluegill, and it did not tug like a bass either. For a second, I was not sure what I had. Then I saw the flash of yellow and realized it was a perch.
It was not the bass I was hoping for, but it still counted, and it gave me one more point toward catching up. With about ten minutes left, the bite started to slow. The flurry of activity gave way to a quieter rhythm, but the fish were still coming, just more spread out.
I stayed focused, knowing every catch mattered. In the final stretch, I brought in four more bluegills and another perch, pushing my total for the day to nineteen. That included seventeen bluegills and two perch.
As we packed up, I looked down at my tally and felt a quiet kind of satisfaction. The pond had delivered, and so had I. For the first time in the competition, I was ahead by one fish.
Colin’s Competition Day 3:
After a lot of thought and brainstorming, Rockafellow and I decided to head back to my pond. The day wasn’t going the way I had hoped. Rockafellow had a decent lead on me, and things were starting to feel like they were slipping away. I knew if I didn’t pull something big out of the water soon, like a bass or a catfish, I wouldn’t be able to catch up. The bluegill just wasn’t going to cut it anymore.
Instead of casting into my usual bluegill spots, I decided to switch things up. I aimed for the catfish holes. It felt like a long shot, but I was running out of options. Every time I seemed to hook a bluegill, Rockafellow was already on his second or third, stacking up his numbers. With him dominating the hot spots, I figured my best chance was to try something different.
I ventured to the other side of the pond, hopeful that the change in scenery might give me a break. After a few nibbles and lost worms, I realized I wasn’t getting the kind of bites I needed. Frustrated, I decided to head back to the front side of the pond, where I had more experience. By now, I’d only landed four bluegill for the day. It was hard not to feel the weight of disappointment sink into my stomach.
Just as I was about to cast again, a sudden jolt from my rod caught me off guard. The bobber disappeared beneath the water’s surface like a stone sinking out of sight. I instinctively set the hook, and instantly, I could feel the weight of something massive on the other end. This wasn’t a bluegill or even a bass, it was the big one, the catfish I had been hoping for. I could almost taste the victory.
But then, just as quickly as I had hooked it, disaster struck. Before I could react, the handle of my reel snapped clean off in my hand. The line started to spool out uncontrollably, and in the blink of an eye, the fish was gone.
It was over. The fish, the competition, the hope of catching up, all slipped away with that one broken moment. Defeated, I had no choice but to concede the victory to Rockafellow. He had out-fished me fair and square.
Brandon’s Competition Day 3:
Heading into day three, I had a decent lead, and I could almost taste victory. It felt close, like it was already in my hands. For our final day of the competition, we decided to return to Schneider’s Pond, since it had brought us the best results so far.
We had kept the nightcrawlers from the previous days in a bucket filled with dirt and bits of trash, hoping they would survive or even repopulate. But when we checked the bucket that morning, every single one of them was dead. That left us with no choice but to make a last-minute trip to Blaine’s Farm and Fleet. We picked out a fresh pack of trout worms this time. They were smaller, and we figured a change in bait might help our chances.
As soon as we got back to the Schneider’s house, we wasted no time. We rigged up our rods and started the final round. Unlike the past two days, today was hot. The temperature had climbed into the low eighties, and you could feel the heat radiating off the water. I figured the fish would be looking for cooler spots, so I made my way over to a shady patch near the edge of the reeds.
I cast my line out and slowly reeled in to take up the slack. Then I sat back and took in the moment. The sunlight danced on the surface of the water. The air was thick and still, and I found myself thinking about the last two days and the lead I had built. There was something peaceful about it all. I was in the zone.
After a minute or two without any action, I reeled in to check my bait. The worm was still there, so I quickly cast again, this time even closer to the reeds. That made all the difference. Within thirty seconds, the line tightened and the bobber disappeared. I had the first fish of the day once again.
I started reeling it in with a huge smile on my face. It was another bluegill, and getting ahead early was exactly what I wanted. If I could build a solid lead, I knew Schneider would have a hard time catching up. I got the fish out of the water and started working on the hook, but that’s when I hit a bit of a snag.
The hook was lodged deep in the soft skin around the fish’s mouth, and I could not get it out with just my fingers. After a minute of trying, I set the bluegill gently back in the water to keep it breathing and grabbed my pliers. I brought it out again and carefully wiggled the hook loose. It took longer than I would have liked, and I started to worry that Schneider might be making up ground while I was stuck dealing with this one fish.
But as luck would have it, he was having a slow start. He wasn’t getting any bites, and I could tell he was starting to get frustrated. That gave me just enough time to regroup and cast again. I baited my hook and returned to the same shady spot, still near the reeds. Before long, I was pulling in fish again—about one every two to five minutes. By the twenty-minute mark, I had landed five bluegills and was feeling more confident than ever.
After my fifth catch, I headed back to the worm container to rebait my hook. I let Schneider take over my spot by the reeds while I moved just a bit farther down the shoreline. I began casting again, still close enough to where the action had been good. At first, I got a few nibbles but kept missing the hook sets. I was getting too eager and pulling the rod too soon. But I wasn’t worried. With a solid lead, I felt calm. That relaxed mindset seemed to work in my favor, because just a few casts later, I had my sixth fish of the day.
As I reeled it in, I noticed Schneider had one on the line too. For a second, it felt like the competition might heat up again. We both had fish on, and there was a flicker of momentum in the air. But just as things were picking up, something unexpected happened. Schneider’s reel broke. As I lifted my bluegill from the water, I heard him shout that his reel was jammed beyond repair.
He still managed to bring in his bluegill, but with no way to keep fishing, there was no point in continuing. We looked at the time and decided to call it early, with about fifteen or twenty minutes left on the clock.
By the end of it, I had six fish on the day. I was hoping that was enough to beat Schneider.
The conclusion/who is the winner:
After a long week of fishing filled with early mornings, quiet casts, unexpected challenges, and a few lucky breaks, our friendly competition had finally come to an end. The ups and downs were plenty, but in the end, one of us would walk away with the title. Before we reveal the winner, let’s take a look at how we scored the challenge.
Each bluegill was worth five points. Perch earned six. Bass were worth eight. Catfish brought in ten, and if anyone had managed to catch a walleye, it would have been worth fifteen. With most of our catches being bluegill and only a couple of perch in the mix, there weren’t any high-value fish to shake up the scores. This came down to consistency.
Schneider was up first. He started the week with one bluegill on day one, then had a strong showing on day two with eighteen more. On the final day, he added three to his total. Altogether, that gave him twenty-two bluegills and a final score of one hundred and ten points.
Then came Rockafellow’s tally. Like Schneider, he started with a single bluegill on day one. On day two, he brought in seventeen bluegills and added two perch to the mix. On day three, he finished strong with six more bluegills. That gave him a total of twenty-four bluegills and two perch, which added up to one hundred and thirty-two points.
And with that, the results were clear. Rockafellow had taken the lead and officially earned the title of champion. It had been close, but consistent catches and a couple of bonus points from the perch secured him the win.
