Lessons from legends: Aaron Martens

I’ve been writing this column for a long time. And many of you may think it comes easy for me. But it doesn’t, I assure you. 

At times, I struggle just putting a few paragraphs together. But those times pale in comparison to the piece I put before you now, as I’m writing about a very special person — one who is among the most recognizable and celebrated anglers of all time. Aaron Martens was a friend who battled cancer and recently passed away. 

Aaron was an incredibly talented angler — a fishing savant, really. He had the ability to find and catch bass in any type of habitat. Wherever the tour took us, he found ways to fool fish the rest of us could never figure out.

In my opinion, he was the best to ever play the game. Certainly the most naturally gifted.

Aaron from the start

I first heard of Aaron when he was a teenager, shaking things up in the West. He earned WON Bass Angler of the Year honors as a teen in the early 1990s. Later in the decade, he began to come east to fish the national trails, competing in B.A.S.S. and FLW events. There, too, he proved his angling prowess — finding and catching fish his fellow competitors couldn’t. 

Because we both ran Ranger boats at that time, we got to know each other away from tournaments — through appearances and pro staff meetings. He was also a Shimano pro, which put us together for media and advertising gigs. The last commercial either of us shot was for Shimano’s new Metanium MGL III — a project that took us to Bienville Plantation in North Florida, two winters ago.

This photo of me with Aaron was taken at the lodge at Bienville Plantation, the last time I saw him.

We bunked in a large cabin with the film crew and Shimano’s pro staff coordinator, Blaine Anderson. It was a relaxed time, and the project went really well. It gave us a lot of one-on-one time together, talking new products and techniques for catching bass — a time I value now more than before. 

Aaron’s lighter side 

Once, during an event on Clarks Hill Reservoir in South Carolina, I found a school of fish close to our official takeoff site. So close, in fact, I could almost cast to them.

On the first morning of competition, I watched anxiously as the boats ahead of me left in single file, wondering if any of them would run to that school of fish. I was in the last flight and, just as I thought I was in the clear, one competitor veered and headed to my honey hole. That competitor was Aaron Martens.

When my number was called, I joined him on the opposite side of the point. About the time I deployed the trolling motor, a school of bass erupted on the surface between us. Choosing a topwater, I hooked up instantly and boated a nice 2 1/2-pound keeper. On the next cast, I hooked and boated another. To that point, Aaron was an observer, unable to buy a strike.

In just a few more casts, I added two more to the livewell. Aaron was now beside himself, wanting to know what I was throwing. And, of course, I showed him. But I can’t lie; it felt good beating the sport’s “Furious Hogsnatcher” … even if only briefly.

Things soon changed, and the fish quit responding to topwaters. They were now keyed solely on the bait they were chasing. Seeing that, Aaron made a lure change and was soon catching them at will. In no time, he was culling to a healthy limit of Clarks Hill schooling bass. 

As the minutes turned to hours, he kept culling … while I watched, unable to catch even a bare 14-inch keeper.

He eventually must have felt sorry for me, as he called me over to get one of his special baits — a “Scrounger”  — which was relatively new at the time. Rather than simply tossing me the lure, he sat down and began to assemble and modify it — custom trimming its transparent lip and soft-plastic body. Our boats sat rail to rail, as he meticulously tweaked the lure. Dissatisfied with the initial effort, he scrapped the lure’s transparent lip and started over.

As he was trimming the second one, a school of fish erupted on the far side of his boat. Impulsively, I fired a cast across his deck into the melee and hooked up with my biggest fish of the day. As the fish cartwheeled across the surface, Aaron realized its size and shouted, “Dude! Here I am making you a bait and you’re catching fish on the other side of my boat. That’s not cool, bro.”

In unison, our marshals and I broke out laughing … all while I’m trying to battle this fish without setting foot on Aaron’s deck. 

Finally, after a few frantic minutes, I managed to work the fish around his transom and into my hands. All the while, the school of fish kept busting and Aaron kept trimming the bait he was about to give me. He was strange that way. He would oftentimes stop fishing in the middle of a good bite to work on his tackle and become totally consumed by the effort. 

I took this photo of Aaron and the film crew on the final evening of our Shimano video project at Bienville Plantation.

The term “perfectionist” hardly describes the painstaking effort and time he would take with his gear. It was an obsession, as if something took over his thought process. Nothing else mattered — not fish, not money, not trophies. Just the immediate task in hand.

Aaron’s magic

Aaron was so much more than a competitive angler. He was an athlete — one who exemplified the term. He ran long distances and participated in other physical disciplines, oftentimes before and after practice and competition days during our events. His body was his temple, and he was always concerned with diet and nutrition.  

He was also a naturalist, fascinated by his surroundings. No matter where he was, the simplest things captivated him. Insects, birds, frogs, plants …even rocks. All of them had meaning and relevance for him.

I think that’s the most important lesson Aaron taught me — to look at things more closely, with much greater detail. And to have an appreciation for the simpler things in nature … or in life, for that matter.

Although he was a tremendous competitor, Aaron was also kind and generous. He made time for anyone who wanted it. Fans, media, his fellow competitors … and most importantly, his family.

Aaron was a devoted husband and father. He brought Leslie and their two kids, Jordan and Spencer, to nearly every tour stop. And unless he was on the water, you would always see them together. Aaron was also a man of God. And it was his faith that helped him through the toughest battle of his life.

Though his time with us was short, Aaron made an indelible mark on virtually everyone who spent even a little time with him. He was a special person with a lot to offer, and he’ll be greatly missed.

Rest in peace, Aaron Martens. 

Editor’s note: On Saturday, Dec. 18, WON Bass will host the Hogsnatcher Benefit Event on Lake Casitas, with all proceeds going to Aaron’s family. If you would like to help, go here for more information.