by Brian Waldman
I was walking out of the marina Saturday afternoon when the local security officer waved at me to get my attention. He took a couple steps toward me and then spoke. "Hey Brian, I caught 18 yesterday".
I nodded and inquired, "white bass?"
"No, largemouth", he said. Now he had my attention. "Right over here and in this next bay over" he gestured, pointing to the cove just above the marina.
"Any size", I asked. He held his hands apart and motioned, "About like this". Looked about keeper sized to me. So I asked the big question next, my Mercury still running behind me as I was about to head out onto the lake myslef. "What did you catch them on?"
He got a grin on his face, stepped a couple paces closer, looked to either side as if to see if anyone was too close to overhear, and then stated in a softer tone than what he had been speaking in, "natural colored Touchdown worm."
"Really?"
"All in about an hour and a half on that little pre-rigged worm", he said, and with that, he strode off, duly impressed with his angling accomplishment from the previous day. And I have to admit, I was impressed to. It got me thinking back to "the old days", back when you couldn't fish a tourney up at Wawasee without seeing a red Touchdown worm tied onto at least one rod in every boat. The little worm that had accounted for who knows how much money from off the shallow weedbeds of the Ohio River. The prerigged worm that half the guys who made the State Team many moons ago up at Tippecanoe-Barbee used so effectively, swimming them over weed flats to secure their position atop the State Finals competition. Been there, done that, saw it all go down. Too much thought for one day, I had to try it again.
I admit, if you go in my garage and look at the tackle shop hanging on my walls as the wife refers to it, off on a far corner peghook of it's own, you'll find about a dozen and a half Touchdown worms still packaged and ready to roll. I stood there and looked through them, found a 6" purple-firetail worm and removed it from the pack. I pulled out a 7' spinning rod loaded with 8 pound test, tied on the swivel and worm, cut the little sinker it comes with in half and pinned it on the line just above the swivel. Then off to the bank I go, headed toward the riprap dam of the local lake for some crazy little experiment. Is it to prove the validity of the story the officer told me, or more a challenge that I too can fish this litle worm. Maybe a test just to see if the thing really does work still.
I pull into the parking lot, exit the truck, spinning rod now in hand as I stride down the grassy hillside to a corner of the dam. This is the shallow end with scattered weeds growing amongst the silty flat. I step down onto the rocks, make a nice toss across the weed flat, let the worm sink for 2-3 seconds and then commence a slow, steady retrieve. The worm gets almost all the way back to me, well within sight as I watch it "swim" it's little death spiral back to my feet. But before I can get it completely wound in a 14" bass rockets from an adjacent weed clump and sucks the worm in. Honest to God, first cast! I chuckle to myself, almost in disbelief as I try and remove the little hooks from the basses mouth. Can't believe I forgot the long-nosed pliers. You'll need them handy if you fish this worm. The hooks might be small, but because of that they penetrate gristle, and removing them with just your fingers can be a chore.
I fish down the rock bank of the dam a ways, some casts paralleling the rocks with a swimming retrieve, others cast out at a 45-degree angle away from the rocks where I let the worm settle and then fish it back like a mini Carolina rig, just a bit faster with sweeps and pauses. A couple more little fish here, another 14" bass there. I reach the spillway with some deeper water adjacent to a weed flat - this spot surrenders the best fish of the evening, a nice, fat 16"-er. Ninety minutes later I'm headed back home, happy with the results of my little experiment and again reminiscing about days gone by when the little worm was a staple in most bass anglers boxes.
I get home to see that I've received yet another Bass Pro catalog in the mail, about the 5th one this season already. I must be a good customer or something. I peruse the pages, looking at all the newest lures. Nine dollar spinnerbaits, $3 jigs, $17 crankbaits, and $35 swimbaits. The sport has really changed over all these years, and technology has given us some wonderful equipment and lures with which to pursue our sport. We are certainly the better off for it as anglers, for the most part. But this is still bass fishing in Indiana, where 80% of the time we are always looking for "just one more keeper" to add to our well to get us a check, or worse yet, just one keeper please, regardless of size so I can get some points and not take the dreaded blank. Admit it, some days you just struggle to get any bites. We all do. You've gone 7 hours into your tourney with nothing in the well to show for it. Whatever you've done or thrown obviously isn't right. What are you going to do for that last hour to save face? For the price of that 20-oz pop sitting in your cooler, you can have a little "emergency bait" stashed in the bottom of your box, hidden from view most of the time so your 'bass pro' persona doesn't suffer at the hands of your buddies, but that might become a game-saver and make an otherwise forgettable fishing outing a bit brighter come weigh-in time...They do still work.