Who is the Better Surf Fisher? (why we shouldn’t be fooled by randomness)
A seven day shoot out and a reliability approach helped two friends make a surprising conclusion.
How often have you debated whether you were better at something than one of your friends? In this story, I will tell you how my good friend Andy and I determined–after many years of debate–who was the better surf fisher. I had to pull out one of my reliability tools called Design of Experiments to do it. And it took a week of twice-per-day fishing to do it.
The Great Surf Fishing Showdown
Andy and I stood at the edge of the shoreline, watching the waves roll in. We had been fishing together for nearly 20 years, including an annual weeklong fishing trip. Who was the better fisherman? The debate had surfaced countless times in bars and over beers. We designed a plan based on my experience with the Design of Experiments. We would fish twice per day for a week and isolate one or more confounding factors. 10-day surf fishing trip, fishing twice daily, regardless of weather, to finally restate the question.
Confounding Factors Related to Surf Fishing
The purpose of the Design of Experiments (DOE) is to systematically plan, conduct, and analyze experiments to understand the relationships between input factors (variables) and output responses (results). It helps reliability engineers like me optimize processes, products, and systems by determining how changes in factors affect the outcomes.
Tides, wind, waves, cloud cover, bait, rigs, distance from shore, and fish species are potential conflicting factors when it comes to evaluating who is a better surf fisher. And sometimes, things just happen randomly.
The Rules
The rules of our fishing competition were simple. Each morning and evening, we set up our lines at the same spot along the beach. The catch of each session was weighed and counted.
We knew that determining the “better” fisherman was not as simple as who hauled in the most fish. We set up a schedule to isolate the different input factors, such as bait, rigs, target fish species, weather, and the like. Our best-made plans would also be impacted by Mother Nature.
Our quest for superiority became a lesson in experiment design and the surprising influence of confounding factors.
The Competition Begins
On the first morning, Andy and I cast our lines into the surf just as the sun rose on the horizon. It was a perfect start — calm waters, mild weather, and light winds.
I landed a few small pompanos within an hour while Andy reeled in a sizable bluefish. I grinned but couldn’t help but notice that Andy had cast a bit farther into deeper waters.
“Better location,” I said, trying to keep things light.
Andy shrugged. “Or maybe just better technique. You like those smaller hooks and fishing inside the breakers.”
“Not always,” I replied. “I tend to work my way up the food chain as the day goes on.”
The friction rose. The competition was on.
Andy led at the end of day one with the most pounds of fish and the largest fish. I had caught the most.
Days 2 and 3
On day 2, Andy suggested we fish the same distance from shore and use identical rigs and bait. This would equalize some of the factors.
That morning, we both used shrimp as bait and cast to the same sandbar, hoping to attract redfish (red drum) that liked the underwater structure. I caught two small flounder within the first hour while Andy landed a single red drum. Despite Andy’s larger catch, my two flounder outweighed Andy’s red drum by a narrow margin.
We switched to cut mullet that afternoon and fished the same tide in front of the sandbar.
I struggled to land anything substantial this time, while Andy’s patience paid off with a sizable black drum and a few small spots. Even though we were fishing side by side, using the same bait, the fish were biting more on Andy’s line.
On day three, we moved to single-hook drum rigs and used small whole mullet for bait in the morning. Andy got a red drum and three blues and I caught six blues and a red drum.
In the afternoon, we went back to a two-hook drop rig with cut squid. We both caught a handful of spots, whiting (Virginia mullet), and pompano.
The first three days exposed the randomness inherent in surf fishing. While we could control some variables — bait, rig, distance — the fish behaved unpredictably. And so far, we had not factored in different tides, winds, or cloud cover. Both days had been clear, high skies with winds below 10 miles per hour, minimal current, and full tides.
The Weather Turns
By day four, the weather took a turn. A sudden cold front moved in, and the ocean became angry. The rest of the crew stayed inside, but Andy and I were determined to stick to our plan. Rain or shine, we would fish.
We both decided to use two-hook drop rigs and cut mullet all day.
The rough seas introduced new challenges. Casting became difficult, and we struggled to keep our lines in place in the water. I had more experience fishing in adverse weather. I shortened my casts and focused on reading the breaks between waves, using the turbulent water to my advantage.
Andy, however, continued with his usual long casts with heavier weights, hoping to reach the fish of the previous days. It wasn’t a bad approach since the tides (and depths) were relatively similar.
I landed more fish in rougher conditions. One red drum, six sizable blues, and four small blues on the day easily overcame Andy’s five small blues.
The ability to adapt, or at least pick the right approach for the day, paid off. I now had more fish by weight than did Andy.
The fifth day was a wash. We tried to fish in the morning and afternoon, but the wind was too high, at 15 to 20 miles per hour. We spent most of the days in the local bar.
To the Sandbar, and Beyond!
The weather was beautiful on day six, but low tide was now dominant in the morning and afternoon. As the trip neared its end, Andy and I were neck and neck in the total weight of fish caught. Each had its good days and bad, but the unpredictability of the surf kept either from claiming a decisive victory.
Two-hook drop rigs and cut mullet were the set-ups of the day. With low tide, we instinctively waded to our necks to get to the sandbar, where the water came to our knees. Casting beyond the sandbar meant fishing where the bigger fish roamed.
The day did not disappoint. I landed 12 blues, and Andy pulled in 10. Andy edged me in weight, but I had more fish and the biggest fish.
However, the limiting factor was fatigue. Typically, every time we caught a fish, we had to walk about one hundred yards through the deeper water to our cooler. By the afternoon, the fatigue was combined with being a little drunk–we didn’t have the leisure to sip on our adult beverages but instead resorted to shots to minimize our time out of the water.
Hours passed, and the fish seemed to be avoiding both of them. The surf remained quiet, and frustration began to build. Then, just as I was about to reel in his line and call it a draw, his rod tip bent under the weight of a fish. A battle ensued, with I eventually pulling in a massive red drum, the largest fish of the trip.
Andy watched, shaking his head with a grin. “I guess that’s it, then.”
But I wasn’t convinced. “Maybe today,” he said, looking out at the water. “But tomorrow? Who knows?”
Let’s Just Fish
On the final day, we fished only in the morning. Conditions were ideal. We both agreed to fish we any rigs, bait, and distance we chose.
I went back to the smaller hooks in the surf for the first two hours then worked the deeper waters. Andy casted deep all morning for the bigger fish.
By 11 AM, I had more fish than Andy, but they were smaller. The total weight was about the same.
Thirty minutes went by. It appeared the fish were done. Both of us started packing up miscellaneous items. Then we stood silent for about 10 minutes.
“Time to reel them in,” I shouted.
“Not yet,” replied Andy. “I just got a hit.”
Andy pulled in the last blue of the trip. After a tough seven-day battle, that single fish on the last cast of the last day proved to be the difference maker.
Who is the Better Surf Fisher? (why we shouldn’t be fooled by randomness)
In the end, there was no clear winner. We attempted a scientific evaluation based on the Design of Experiments. With all its unpredictability, the ocean had its own way of deciding who the better fisherman was on any given day. We are both good surf fishermen. You’re liable to be fooled by randomness (or luck) on any given day.
JD Solomon resides in the Carolinas, where he fishes, sails, and coaches baseball. Professionally, JD Solomon is the founder of JD Solomon, Inc., the creator of the FINESSE fishbone diagram®, and the co-creator of the SOAP criticality method©.
