The Morning Everything Aligned
March 14th, 2019. Lake Fork, Texas. Water temperature 58 degrees and rising. I’ll remember those details until the day I die because that’s the morning I caught an 11-pound largemouth bass on a lure that cost less than a fast-food combo meal. Twenty-three years of fishing, thousands of dollars in tackle, and my personal best came on a three-dollar Senko.
I had launched my boat at 5:30 AM at the Oak Ridge ramp, running to a secondary point I’d found on Navionics the night before. The point dropped from four feet to twelve with a nice chunk rock transition—classic pre-spawn staging area. I’d caught fish there the previous weekend, all in the three to five-pound range, and I had a feeling the bigger girls were moving up.
Why the Senko Works
For those who don’t know, a Senko is a soft plastic stickbait made by Gary Yamamoto Custom Baits. It’s literally just a straight worm with no action built in—no curl tail, no paddle, nothing fancy. The magic is in the salt-impregnated plastic and the subtle shimmy it creates on the fall. Bass absolutely crush them, especially during pre-spawn when fish are lethargic and want an easy meal.
I was fishing a five-inch watermelon-red Senko, wacky rigged on a size 1/0 Owner hook. No weight, no Texas rig, just hook through the middle and let it fall. This is not a power technique. You cast, you wait, you watch your line. The bite often feels like nothing—just a slight tick or the line moving sideways. If you’re not paying attention, you’ll miss it.
The Take
On my fourth cast to that point, the Senko hit the water and started its slow descent. I watched the line fall slack as the bait sank through eight, nine, ten feet of water. Then the line twitched. Not a big movement, just a subtle tick that could have been the bait hitting bottom. But I’ve been fooled before. I reeled down, felt weight, and set the hook.
The rod doubled over immediately. I was fishing a medium-heavy St. Croix Legend Tournament with 15-pound fluorocarbon, plenty of backbone to handle a big fish, but this bass had other ideas. She made a hard run toward the boat, and for a terrible second I thought she was coming up to jump. Instead, she dove straight down and started head-shaking with a violence I could feel in my shoulders.
The Fight and the Landing
The fight lasted maybe ninety seconds, but it felt like an hour. She made three more runs, each one weaker than the last, and finally I got her head up. When I saw her come to the surface, my hands started shaking. This was not a five-pounder. This was a fish that looked like a football with fins.
I lipped her with my right hand and just stared. Her belly was distended with eggs, her jaw could have fit around a softball, and her sides were thick as my forearm. I put her on my digital scale: 11 pounds, 2 ounces. I took three quick photos, measured her at 25.5 inches, and slid her back into the water. She sat in my hands for a moment, gills pumping, then kicked hard and disappeared into the green depths.
What I Learned
That fish taught me several things I’ve carried forward. First, expensive tackle doesn’t catch fish—confidence and presentation do. I had a tackle box full of $15 swimbaits and $8 crankbaits, but the Senko got the bite. Second, pre-spawn is the real trophy season. Big females are staging, they’re feeding, and they’re catchable if you find the right structure. Third, and most importantly, sometimes you just have to trust your instincts. I’d never fished that point before that week, but something about the contour map told me it was right.
I’ve caught bigger fish since then—a 12-pounder on a jig at Sam Rayburn—but that 11-pound Senko bass remains special. She proved that fishing isn’t about how much you spend. It’s about understanding what the fish want and being ready when the moment arrives.
