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Once upon a time, a 10-year-old boy stepped to the bank of his neighborhood creek with a single rod and reel spooled with fishing line of unknown vintage, a rusty hook, a few split shot and a cup of garden worms freshly dug a few minutes before he set out for the creek.
The young fellow was ready for anything - or at least whatever swam in the runs between the riffles. He was a happy fisher. His frequent visits to the banks of the creek were the building blocks for the foundation of his lifelong passion for fishing.
Decades later, the happy fisher boy is a happy fisherman, and I am still pulled to the water with a grin as big as Lake Erie, along with an assortment of rods, reels, lures and gadgets that the 10-year-old could never imagine.
Naturally, the waters of northeastern Ohio and western Pennsylvania have had a profound impact on the tools I use, particularly the lures that I pack for each time I launch the Bass Cat.
As I sort through the boxes, heavy with hard baits and soft plastics, my mind sees the very moments each became important enough to pack in multiples for future fishing trips.
I see, for example, the two separate fishing trips that sold me on the worth of white tubes. One was a hot July day when I made the 15-minute troll up the river at Lake Milton. I arrived at the cattail-rimmed "ponds" just above the Ellsworth Road bridge with two rods rigged for flipping baits into the gnarly cover, one with a 6-inch black worm and the other with a 4-inch pearl white tube.
The white tube was the clear winner, as the bass eagerly gulped the lure, which I guessed they judged to be shad. A week later, at Shenango Reservoir north of Sharon, Pa., I built a tournament-winning limit of largemouths that found the same pearl white tube irresistible.
That hot July day was more than 15 years ago, but the boat never leaves the dock today without a bag of pearl white tubes.
And so it goes with the box of Ned rig plastics and jigs that saved the day for me during a June outing for Lake Erie smallmouth bass. The fish had shown little interest in the tube jigs I was dragging over rocks, but gobbled the stubby Ned stick worms threaded on one-sixth-ounce jigs.
They are the same Neds that today trick springtime smallies at Milton and autumn bass on the Ohio River.
I can share many more similar stories about the moments when a new lure earns its way into my tackle collection. One is about the mid-summer day on Mosquito Lake when bladed jigs forever won my confidence.
I was pitching a Pop-R to a weedy edge midway up the east bank, tricking a pair of largemouth bass just after sunrise. As the sun peaked over the treeline, however, the topwater bite evaporated. I picked up my spinnerbait rod, snipped off the lure and tied on one of the Chatterbaits I bought earlier that week.
Three casts were all that it took for the bass to find my lure. I quickly filled my limit and culled up to weight that proved to be enough to win that day's tournament.
Those and many other first experiences come to mind as I rummage through my stuff. The most enduring and endearing is the day the venerable Bomber Model 6A proved to me there was more to Berlin Reservoir than walleyes and crappies. While working on a feature story assignment for Ohio Fisherman magazine, I met up with Dale Mullen, a young Hubbard angler who knew the wily ways of Berlin's bass.
Mullen caught a couple of chunky smallies during our photo session for the article as he cranked the firetiger-colored Model 6A. I was mightily impressed and soon ordered a pair of Bombers from the Bass Pro Shops catalog.
That was more than 35 years ago. Today, when I sorted through tackle for this weekend's fishing trip, I spied four firetiger Model 6A crankbait ready for action should they get the call.
So many lures. Each with a story. And each with a rock-solid reason to be in my boat.
Jack Wollitz writes weekly for readers of the Tribune Chronicle and Vindicator. Contact him at jackbbaass@gmail.com.