DATELINE: SEPTEMBER 10, 2023 – SPRINGFIELD, MISSOURI
While visiting any Bass Pro Shop is a thrill only obsessive anglers can understand, no thrill can exceed going to THE flagship Bass Pro in Springfield, Missouri, to visit one of fishing’s great shrines – the IGFA Fishing Hall of Fame. This is where those few men and women who have truly changed our sport are immortalized. And it’s even more of a thrill to look up at the giant LED ad board outside the store, and see the name of someone you know.
Recognize someone?
In 2018, I had the privilege of attending Dr. Marty Arostegui’s induction into the IGFA Fishing Hall of Fame. Five years later, I got another invitation to Springfield, to witness another famous angler being inducted into The Hall – none other than Roberta Arostegui, Marty’s wife, Mother of Martini, and one of the most skilled anglers I have ever fished alongside.
I certainly hadn’t been on the water with Roberta as much as I had with Marty or Martini. Like Marta, I think she was glad to get us out of the house. But whether it was looking for bonefish in Bimini or trying to set a few records on the Tamiami trail, Roberta is the real deal – one of the great anglers of our time.
The first couple of fishing, hard at work on a jack in the Bahamas, August 2011.
It’s not just that she had 236 world records at the time of her induction (and 264 now,) it’s that she has helped lead the way on the women’s side of things. I don’t really divide up men’s and women’s fishing – we all identify as anglers and that makes our sport much less complicated – but fishing was a traditionally male bastion for many years. Roberta was the first female angler to cross the once-unthinkable 200 record barrier, and she is one of only five people who have ever accomplished this. (Two of whom are women, and three of whom are Arosteguis.)
I’ve never even seen an alligator gar that big. No way I’m getting in the water with that.
It’s not like she discovered fishing by marrying Marty Arostegui. When she was a little girl, her Mother would take her fishing at a pond behind their house, where she learned to catch perch on bread balls. They also fished the Cape Cod area throughout her childhood. (Although she did say “My Mom taught me how to fish, my husband Marty taught me how to catch.”)
An impressive marlin. Much more impressive when you realize it was on 20 pound test.
Marta loves the Arosteguis, so it wasn’t too hard to get her to carve time out of her crazed consulting schedule to come along. Of course, this also meant that when just one of our seats was upgraded on the way to Denver, there was no question as to who got it. Yes, I am a kind and giving person, no matter Marta may have told you.
I got Marta to pose by my favorite restaurant in Denver airport, despite the fact that she irrationally hates John Elway.
We got into Springfield in time to check in to a charming hotel downtown, rush over to Bass Pro to buy red worms, get back to the hotel and shower, then join the Arosteguis for dinner.
We need to stop in Branson while Paul Anka is still around.
Marta waited outside with a friend.
We don’t see the Arosteguis as much as we all would like to, and somehow, it had already been 12 years since that IGFA awards ceremony where we met the first time. (Marty and I fished together for the first time the next morning.) Roberta didn’t appear to be too nervous – she seemed very honored by the whole thing and at ease about speaking in front of the fishing world.
The group at dinner Friday night. From left to attractive, that’s Marty, JoAnn (Roberta’s sister-in-law,) me, Bob (Roberta’s brother,) Martini, Roberta, Marta, and Danielle, Martini’s sister.
After dinner, Marta managed to find the best frozen custard in town.
Roberta being at ease speaking made sense, as she is no stranger to major hardware. For example, she won the IGFA’s Lifetime Achievement Award in 2015.
Along with a particularly impressive class of inductees.
She won Metropolitan South Florida Fishing Tournament’s Women’s Master Angler three times, the IWFA’s Kay Rybovich Award twice, and is the only recipient of the IWFA’s Master Angler Award. She has also held a wide variety of officer positions with the IWFA. There are resumes, and there are resumes, and even though I’m leaving lots of stuff out, this is about as impressive as it gets.
Of course, if I’m traveling somewhere, you know there is going to be a fish involved. I checked around with my sources, and Chris Moore volunteered that he caught an Ozark logperch just seven miles outside of town, and that they were, in his words, a “slam dunk.” Oh, how I have suffered with “slam dunk” fish. Basketball was always my weakest sport, but still, this was a shot at a darter and I was going to take it.
That following morning, I talked Marta into going down to the creek with me, because I truly believed that it would be a short errand. Chris had (maliciously?) described a scenario in which I could find a slightly deeper pool in the creek – think three feet – and blind cast a bit of redworm on a #16 hook and quickly get my logperch. We left a bit late in the morning and I agreed to be back by two so we could go tour the Aquarium and the giant Bass Pro store. The uninitiated among you might think there is nothing women want to buy at Bass Pro. Au contraire. I once flippantly told Marta that I would buy her anything she wanted in the Dania Beach BPS if I could have an hour in there and she somehow found a $200 purse.
I immediately recognized that the creek was much lower than when Chris had been there. (Or was it? Was this a legitimate matter of seasonality, or were he and The Mucus laughing their butts off back in Arizona?)
Gorgeous, but no pools.
I worked my way up and down the waterway, and while it was beautiful and had loads of fish, there was no logperch habitat. I caught plenty of stuff, just not the right stuff.
The local longear.
A nicely-marked shiner. It looks like a bleeding to me, but is supposedly in range for the cardinal. It doesn’t matter, as I have both.
It was 1:55 when I saw my first logperch. Whereas most logperch are cruising around midwater looking for a meal, these were acting like variegate darters – setting up under cover and then spooking the moment I got near them. I could pretend to not hear Marta shouting for me, but she has my phone location and was soon standing next to me, saying “Time to go.”
So we left, although there was sadness and the shame of failure in my heart. We got back to the hotel, I cleaned up, and we headed over to the complex. There was much shopping, and my already-crowded carryon was going to be bursting at the seams. The museum and aquarium are also world class – five hours flew by, especially with me curating the fish, because I can usually manage to spot a species on which I have the record and announce it just loudly enough where people in the parking lot can hear me.
The wildlife museum reminded me how terrifying Marta can be.
Around seven, we wandered down to the dining room for the event, which started with a pre-dinner cocktail mixer. I can never get over what a Who’s Who of fishing these things are, and I still always feel like a kid wandering the Tigers locker room after they won the World Series.
The dining room just before they opened.
The Program. I am going to frame her’s and Marty’s together.
IGFA President Jason Schratwieser leads off the presentations.
After that, we got seated and they started the inductions. Roberta went first. It was only in the moments before she was called to the stage that she seemed, perhaps, a touch anxious about going to the podium, but she was brilliant.
Roberta’s acceptance speech. Note the orangebelly fusilier middle left – I have the record on this fish.
She touched on three main themes – the joy she has had in being able to share countless hours with her family on the water, the beauty and fragility of all the beautiful places she has been able to visit, and our responsibility to preserve those places. She thanked everyone who had been a part of her journey, recognizing that no one angler ever accomplishes great things alone. She stepped off to thunderous applause, and rejoined us at the table. It was perfect.
Roberta is presented with the actual hardware.
And this is the plaque that will be in the HOF.
The rest of the evening was a blur of other speeches, each from a great and deserving angler or their representatives – Kay Brodney, Dean Butler, Gerald Garrett, and Bill Shedd were inducted in the same class. After the presentations, we finished dinner and wandered the crowd, a bit star-struck, chatting here and there, enjoying a few drinks under the giant main aquarium as all kinds of things I want to catch swam by.
There are more than 1000 world records in this photo.
Hanging with Jason. He’s a great guy.
We said our goodbyes well into the evening, and headed back toward our hotel and a quiet nightcap in downtown Springfield.
It was during this nightcap that I remembered our early flight the next day would preclude another shot at the Ozark logperch. In exchange for a few assorted bribes, which may or may not have included my immortal soul, Marta agreed to a later flight so I could take one more shot at the surprisingly elusive creature.
Morning came quickly, and I would only have about 90 minutes to fish, but I at least had a good idea where to find the target. It was a bit chilly, but I had my new Bass Pro hoodie to ward off the cold, and I walked quietly through the woods until I could see the spot. I entered the water and began searching – I saw several darters, but all fantails and rainbows, but I also reasoned that it needed to warm up a little before the logperch would get active. The sun was already creeping onto the water, so I figured I had plenty of time.
Early morning at the creek.
Poking around the bottom, through leaves and downed branches, I eventually spooked a couple of them – again, this behavior is so un-logperchlike that they should get their Percina card revoked. About an hour went by, and there were a few texts from Marta reminding me what time it was. At about 9:30, I saw one with his head just poking out from under a rock. I presented to him, and he came out aggressively, attacked my split shot, then spooked under a log in a small pool about five feet upstream. Just for the heck of it, I rain my bait along the edges of the wood, and he again came out after the split shot. I tightened up the leader length and presented again, and he was all business – he nailed the bait and tried to pull it under the log with him, so that when I reflexively snapped back, I pulled him right onto the bank.
The Ozark logperch, species 2231. And I did it with a whole 10 minutes to spare.
My wet wading shoes were not ideal carryon baggage, but I was thrilled to have another darter. I want 100 someday – this was # 71.
I raced back to Springfield in triumph, cleaned up, and headed to the airport. Adding a species was great, but being including in angling history was even better.
Congratulations, Roberta – you are an amazing angler, leader, and parent – a class act, and Marta and I are proud to know you.
Steve
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