My first real introduction to Guido Hibdon happened in the fall of 1984 — during the B.A.S.S. St. Johns River Invitational. Although I was familiar with his name and what he had accomplished to that point, I hadn’t had any interaction with Guido until that event.
That meeting proved to have a profound impact on both me and my career.
Back then, B.A.S.S. events paired pros together in a draw-type format — each having control of the boat for half the day. We didn’t know who we were going to fish with until the night of registration, or after weigh-in each day of the competition.
As it worked out, Guido and I were paired together for Day 1 on the St. Johns. And after relating our experiences from practice, I opted to ride with him — a decision that changed the way I fished forever.
Setting the stage
Guido wanted to fish the clear streams feeding Lake George and, even though it wasn’t a springtime event, I thought I could learn something from the experience.
Everyone knew Guido’s reputation as a talented sight fishermen — a skillset I was still in the process of developing. So, I took the opportunity to observe, firsthand, his approach. I wasn’t on a great pattern anyway … certainly not enough for two anglers. My fish were to the north in Rodman Reservoir — his were to the south on Lake George — so there was no way to try to fish both.
Early the next day, as we waited for our number to be called, I remember watching Guido’s every move — his speech, mannerisms and how he distanced us from others. He was clearly focused and ready for battle.
Eventually, we were called and headed south to Lake George. Along the way, wondering what the day would bring. I remember passing the Barge Canal leading into Rodman Reservoir, wondering if I had made a mistake by not challenging Guido on where to fish.
When we reached the mouth of Silver Glen Run, Guido brought his Ranger off pad and idled us into the springs. Once there, he killed the engine and reached for a small tackle box. Then he gave me a handful of custom-made tubes and small, lightweight jigs.
He showed me how to insert the jighead from the rear, then expose the hook-eye so that the shank would lie perfectly in line with the body of the tube — so as not to interfere with how the lure should fall. He seemed impressed that I had the right balance of tackle to compliment the technique. But it wasn’t until I slid my first cast beneath a shallow dock, when he turned to me and said, “Well I’ll be damned!”
At that point, I knew I had won him over. Guido was a virtuoso with a spinning rod, and he had an appreciation for anyone who could cast with accuracy and finesse.
As the day progressed, I quizzed him frequently. He explained many of the subtleties of fooling fish in clear water. Cast and retrieve angles, trajectory — all the critical aspects of presentation, including how the lure should fall and what to do or not do when a fish approached.
Guido showed me how to coax cruising bass by presenting the lure with stealth, along the same path they were swimming. He led the fish just enough so that they couldn’t detect his presentation, then allowed the tube to reach bottom just as the fish discovered it. Sometimes, they would strike immediately. But if the fish refused yet remained interested, he would work the bait with the subtlest movements, and only in a direction away from the fish — never toward them. If that wasn’t an option, he would let the fish pass, then retrieve the lure and try again.
It was a one-on-one, on-the-water seminar, and I absorbed everything I could.
By day’s end, neither of us had caught a whole lot. Yet it was still one of the most productive days I’ve ever spent on the water. When we reached check-in, he turned to me and said, “If the rest of your game is as good as what I saw today, you’ll be hell to deal with down the road.”
More from the master
After that event, Guido took me in as if I was one of his own. Besides his wife Stella and son Dion, others traveled with him too. Guys like Peter Thliveros, Kenyon Hill, Chet Douthit, Tom Batterton and Davy Hite — a loyal band of disciples, ready for anything Guido threw our way.
Stella always looked after “her boys,” and that included molding our lures. They weren’t your standard soft-plastics, either. Hers were special — each was hand cut and super soft, poured in colors unavailable anywhere else.
At that time, very few touring pros sight fished … maybe a dozen or so. It was an elite group before others caught on. Over time, the finesse aspects of the game gave way to a power approach — bigger lines and gaudier lures. It was as if the art of sight fishing was fading away.
I remember a time when I was in contention to win a major tournament. On the morning of the final day, just before takeoff, Guido idled over to my boat, looked me in the eye and said, “It’s your time. Finish it!”
Those words resonate to this day. And though I was unable to win the event, having a man I respected so much, approach me and say that meant almost as much as winning … at least to me.
Master of his craft
Guido Hibdon died in March of last year. Our industry has mourned the loss since.
He was a true pioneer of the sport, a legend. And he accomplished many great things — including two Bassmaster Angler of the Year titles and a Bassmaster Classic victory. In 2002, he was inducted into the Bass Fishing Hall of Fame. More recently, Guido was entered into the Missouri Congressional Record for lifetime achievements and his many contributions to the sport.
But more than any of these accomplishments, what I will remember most about Guido was the lessons he taught me. He was a father-like figure who won the respect of those who knew him, and he was never too busy to share his time.
Thank you, Guido, for the lessons and respect you showed me. Your legacy lives on through Dion and his boys, and all of us whose lives you impacted.