The Moment Everything Goes Wrong
There’s a special kind of helplessness that comes when your trolling motor quits two miles from the ramp with a stiff wind pushing you onto a rocky shoreline. The clicks of a dead foot pedal, the whir of a motor that won’t engage, the sudden understanding that you’re about to become very familiar with your outboard’s steering and your own fitness level. I’ve been there three times now, and each failure taught me lessons I carry forward.
My first trolling motor failure happened on Toledo Bend in the middle of a bass tournament. I was in third place with four hours left to fish, working a line of standing timber in 15 feet of water, when my Minn Kota Terrova simply stopped. No warning, no strange noises beforehand, just sudden silence. The display showed full battery. The connections were clean. Something internal had given up, and I was dead in the water.
Trolling Motor Down on Toledo Bend
The immediate problem wasn’t getting back to the ramp—I had an outboard for that. The problem was that I couldn’t fish effectively without the trolling motor. Bass fishing in standing timber requires precise boat control, tiny adjustments, the ability to hold position while you work a jig through the branches. With just the outboard, I was basically done for the day. I limped back to weigh-in, dropped from third to twelfth, and spent that evening learning everything I could about trolling motor repair.
The culprit was a corroded connection in the motor head that I never would have found without disassembly. Salt and minerals from the water had built up over three seasons of neglect. Lesson learned: flush your trolling motor regularly, check connections annually, and consider carrying a multimeter to diagnose electrical issues on the water.
Dead Battery in the Delta
My second gear failure was entirely my own fault. Fishing the California Delta, I’d been running my Ultrex for six hours on a single battery bank, convinced I had plenty of juice left. I did not. The motor died just as I reached a promising tule line, and unlike Toledo Bend, this time my outboard was also giving me trouble—the pull start cord had frayed and broke on my second yank.
I spent forty-five minutes paddling with a bass rod case until another angler saw me flailing and towed me back to the ramp. Humiliating doesn’t begin to describe it. After that trip, I installed a battery monitoring system that shows actual voltage and estimated runtime, not just a vague battery meter. I also replaced my pull start cord and now carry a spare.
The Live Well Pump Disaster
Not all gear failures strand you, but some can cost you fish and money. During a big-money team tournament on Sam Rayburn, our live well pump quit in the afternoon heat. We had twenty pounds of bass in the tank and no water circulation. By the time we realized the pump had failed—maybe thirty minutes—two of our fish were stressed and showing signs of distress.
We lost one fish to the dead fish penalty and another was severely docked at weigh-in. The combined penalty cost us about two pounds on the final weight, which dropped us from a $5,000 check to $800. All because of a $25 pump we’d never thought to inspect.
The Gear Failure Kit
After these experiences, I now carry what I call my failure kit: a basic multimeter, spare fuses in every size my boat uses, a roll of electrical tape, wire connectors, a spare prop and prop wrench, extra pull start cord, a small tool kit with screwdrivers and pliers, and a portable battery jump pack. Total investment is maybe $150. Total peace of mind is priceless.
I also do a full systems check before every trip. Trolling motor cycles through all speeds, live well pumps run, navigation lights work, batteries show full charge, outboard starts cleanly. It takes five minutes and has saved me from at least two potential failures that I caught before they became problems.
The Takeaway
Gear fails. Motors quit. Batteries die. The question isn’t whether it will happen to you—it’s whether you’ll be prepared when it does. Build your failure kit, do your pre-trip checks, and always have a backup plan for getting back to the ramp. The fish don’t care about your equipment problems, but your wallet and your safety certainly do.
