Some years ago I got into fishing a series of local tournaments out of the the Highway 72 ramp on the Elk river in North Alabama, just a short boat ride from the Tennessee River. My regular fishing partner was nice fella' named Henry, who was an executive at a local factory. We were about as different as two fishing partners could be, him a college educated professional, and me an automotive technician with a G.E.D. (That stands for Good Easy Diploma.)
We each brought something to the partnership though, my family being involved in fishing the Tennessee River for several generations, and him with a really nice boat and a desire to learn. Henry was fun, and a tough fisherman. The tournaments were over at midnight, and Henry did not quit easily. We won it a couple of times, and finished in the top three or four boats almost every week.
Henry like to fish spinnerbaits, and I always preferred plastic worms, fishing right up against cliffs and rock walls. I would just finesse the worms down the little 1 or 2 inch ledges one at a time, and found lots of bass hugging those walls. Lots of times Henry would find a fish with his spinnerbait, and I would come right behind him with a little plastic worm and get another one or two.
So, one night we were fishing points and rock walls, and not doing real well, when I decided to try some little bear haired jigs I had just gotten. I put down my spinnerbait rod, and picked up another rod, and tied on the jig. Henry thought I was still fishing with a spinnerbait. In just a couple of casts I caught a keeper bass.
"You catch that on a spinnerbait?" says Henry.
"Yup" I said.
Another cast, another bass. A keeper smallmouth that time.
"What color is that spinnerbait?" Henry asked.
"Um..chartreuse." I said. (Henry ties on a chartreuse spinnerbait.)
Another cast or two, bam! Another keeper smallmouth.
"Did you say chartreuse?"
"Yeah, chartreuse and purple" I said. (Henry ties on a different spinnerbait.)
A few more casts, boom! Another smallmouth, too small to keep.
"I don't get it!" Henry says, "I'm fishing with the same damn thing! How come I'm not getting any hits? That's your fourth bass and I haven't had one strike!"
"Henry, did you put a pork rind on it? Didn't I tell you I put a purple pork rind on there??" I ask. (All this time I am fishing with a brown bear haired jig, but casting my spinnerbait every now and then so he can hear the blades rattle.)
Henry puts on a purple pork rind. He has to borrow one of mine. I am now about to lose it. This is getting too funny.
Right after that I catch a seriously good smallmouth, and Henry has to help me get it into the boat. He sees the jig. I am Busted. Henry is pissed, but I am laughing so hard he starts laughing too after a minute or two. We lost the tournament by a huge margin, but it was one of the most fun of the many trips we ever fished together. At the dock when someone asked what we caught our fish on, Henry looked at me and said, "What color was that spinnerbait?"