Why gear ratios matter

It was Canada Day weekend, and my wife, kids, and I were after smallmouth bass. There’s no morning bite when you fish with kids and the July heat was baking us. Everyone was geared up, and my wife selected a long spinningrod paired with a spybait. I encouraged her to focus on the deep side of a drop while the girls and I cast toward a shallow, rocky shoal tapering into 15 feet of water. Almost instantly, I heard a bass belly-flop on the surface and turned to see my wife frantically collecting slack line. A few powerful charges under the boat kept tensions high, but with a quick scoop, the girls and I cheered as she landed a beautiful four-pounder. We unhooked it while cell phone photos were hurriedly taken. We refocused, rods in hand. Then, “I got one!” my wife called out. Her rod bowed deeply, signaling another big smallmouth. This one stayed calm — until it neared the boat. A sudden, violent head shake, and the bait came flying free. A heartbreaker. An easy five-pounder, gone. The difference? Her ultra-slow retrieve. The kids and I were too eager, working our lures too fast. But her slow, steady cranking let the bait descend deeper and stay right in the strike zone. As anglers, we obsess over baits and techniques but often overlook the reel. Reel ratios play a crucial part in perfecting a presentation. Sometimes, the key to catching more fish isn’t changing lures — it’s switching gears. Below 5.8:1 Spy baits aren’t the only lures that benefit from a slow gear ratio. Marabou jigs and slow-rolled swimbaits also demand patience. While anglers can painstakingly slow their retrieve to compensate for a high-speed reel, switching to a slower gear ratio — below 5.8:1 — naturally complements the technique and the bass’ mood. A slower reel allows the bait to maintain its depth, keeping it in the strike zone longer. Once the bait is out of the strike zone, you need to reel it in and quickly make the next cast. More casts usually equal more bites. A speedy gear ratio makes this happen. Joey Di Cienzo, a top competitor on the Canadian tournament circuit, knows the power of slowing down. Last fall, he and teammate Joey Teofilo set a record for the heaviest five-bass limit ever weighed in a Canadian tournament — 32.02 pounds of smallmouth, all caught