When it comes to catching smallmouth bass on Lake Winnipesaukee, Steve and Joe Lucarelli are right on the money.

They have to be. Their livelihoods depend on it.

Steve, the elder in this father-son team, guides enough clients to call it a full-time avocation. He often fishes the money tournaments with Joe, who would like to win enough tournament prizes to leave his day job behind.

For now, Joe is grateful for an employer who understands his frequent absences from a position in recreational vehicle sales.

The pair invited me to spend some time on the water with them after I wrote about their seminars at the Rockingham Fishing and Hunting Expo in Salem.

Steve did most of the guiding last Sunday afternoon. Joe fished from the front of a sleek Ranger bass boat, controlling the drift with the foot pedal attached to the bow-mounted electric motor.

It's true that the guy in the front has a significant advantage. He gets first crack at the water. When he doesn't hook up, his lures can either put the fish down or make them pay attention when the casters in the rear work their lures at an angle toward the bow.

Joe quietly hooked and landed fish after fish, most of them "client" sized. They were the kind of smallies that will keep a paying customer happy, but wouldn't get him close to the leaders in a tournament.

Good guides are effective teachers, and Steve probably gave me more tips in half an hour than I have picked up at dozens of winter shows. He did it without making me feel like a total idiot.

He guessed correctly that I would be more comfortable with a spinning rod. I'm still haunted by those awful childhood memories of tangled fishing lines caused by backlash on a baitcast reel.

He rigged a rod with a long butt section below the reel and showed me how to make a two-handed cast, using the right wrist as a fulcrum point. It tossed the crankbait lure farther than I could have imagined.

He broke me of a bad habit by making sure I wound the part of the reel's bailer where it meets the line to a 12 o'clock position, just under my index finger, before I opened the bailer for a cast.

He also broke me of the fly caster's practice of pinching the line between finger and rod when feeling for a bite during the retrieve.

He reminded me of one universal truth of casting. The line or lure goes in the same direction as the rod once the cast is made. The Lucarellis' flyer recommends that clients practice casting to targets before going fishing.

The Lucarellis were eager to show me a technique Steve learned on the tournament circuit in the South. They rigged the rods with a flat, silver lure that vaguely resembled a baitfish. It carried a little added weight toward the head.

Joe let the lure sink to the bottom. He would then twitch the rod to raise the lure until he could feel a fluttering vibration. He reeled in slack line as he let the lure drop again. The motions gave the lure a skipping effect as it moved across the bottom.

Knowing the technique was helpful, as was recognizing the special characteristics of a specific location. It's the kind of knowledge that can be gained only by spending time on the water.

In this case, they picked a location where they knew other anglers often clean their catch. The guts attract crayfish, which are a favorite food of Winnipesaukee smallmouth bass.

Guys who fish for tournament prizes ranging from a new boat to a needed payday take the sport very seriously. If one location doesn't produce fish within a few minutes, or if a hot site suddenly cools off, Steve fires up the big outboard and heads across the lake at speeds that made me hold tightly to my Red Sox cap.

He's no fan of speed limits for the big lake, figuring that small boats are no more appropriate in The Broads than bicycles are on an interstate highway. He goes fast enough to need a mask that resembles a modern catcher's or goalie's face protection. Gives him a Darth Vader look. (next page »)