NORTH EAST, Md. – As the field prepared to launch for the first morning of competition at the 2025 St. Croix Bassmaster Open at Upper Chesapeake Bay presented by SEVIIN, Charlie Hartley laid out his security blanket.
Well, not quite a blanket. More like a regular bath towel. Probably stolen from his wife Tracey, who after decades of marriage can’t be surprised at this point. The Ohio pro, a veteran of nearly 300 Bassmaster events, puts a towel on the deck of his boat so that anyone who steps onto it doesn’t muss the carpet. He’s a remarkably laidback guy, but woe be to the co-angler, writer or videographer who tracks dirt, dust or goose poop onto his prized possession.
Hartley explains it as follows: As a child, his family had modest means. When he finally got a new boat of his own, he couldn’t imagine sullying it even slightly. It was a treasure. He couldn’t believe it was his. Dozens of new boats later, he hasn’t lost that new boat thrill…or angst that it might be in any way taken away from him.
Indeed, he understands loss. Hartley was a member of the original Elite Series class of 2006, but was eventually relegated out. He hasn’t been on the tour since 2015, but never seems to miss an Open. Just two weeks shy of his 61st birthday, he’s competing against a field that includes many competitors who can’t remember Hartley’s greatest career achievements. Quite a few weren’t born when he fished his first Invitational in 1993. More than a few were still in grade school when he led Day One of the 2008 Bassmaster Classic on Lake Hartwell.
His success in the Opens has been mixed since he left the Elites. The highlight was winning a tournament on the James River in 2016, which in turn qualified him for the 2017 Classic. He has nothing left to prove. So why does he keep fishing the Opens, grinding out the road miles through all kinds of weather? It’s very much the same reason that people climb Everest: Because it’s there.
“I just love it,” Hartley said. “Every year I tell Tracey that I’m not sure if I’m going to fish them. Then I end up fishing both divisions. I hate the idea of watching one from home, not being there.”
And of course he still gets a high when he cashes a check. He’s had great business success throughout his life, enabling him to pursue this nomadic and inconsistent lifestyle for fun, not profit, but to earn money doing it feels like he’s won the game of life.
“When they pay me to fish, I giggle all the way home,” he said.
Of course, it’s not all giggles, but the things that make Hartley mildly disgruntled are – like him – a little off the beaten path. Even with a late take-off number, he likes to be the first boat in the water, the better to get a prime parking spot, one that will protect his boat.
“I don’t wait in lines,” he said. “They make me want to pull my hair out.”
On Day One, several of the other competitors beat him to the ramp. While that threw him off of his game for a moment, he still had plenty of time to attach bumpers to his boat, tie it up in a place where boat wakes wouldn’t jam it against the marina docks, and lay out his ever-present towel.
He understands his quirks. In fact he revels in them. But the fact that he’s been a journeyman makes the high points of the ride all that much sweeter. One year, after experiencing some success, he put his name in large letters across the back window of his tow vehicle. After a particularly tough tournament, he became embarrassed by that hubris and ripped them off. At the same time, the consistent humility created by a career of grinding for everything he’s gotten, makes the sexagenarian almost childlike in his appreciation and attitude. Indeed, when he won at the James, Brandon Palaniuk had to tell him that the victory came with more than just a trophy and a check.
“All that hard work made me feel like a million bucks,” he said. “But I’d come close so many times, that even when they told me I won I told them I wouldn’t believe it until they handed me the trophy. Then, when I finally got the trophy, Brandon Palaniuk had to remind me that it also came with a Bassmaster Classic berth. In all of the excitement, I had completely forgotten about that.”
Hartley eventually took the bumpers off, stored the towel, and made his careful way through the throngs to head out into the Chesapeake Bay. He looked pensively at his graphs, then smiled as he got to the dock. Underneath the smile and the “aw shucks” mentality, he’s a fierce competitor, never just happy to be there. Nevertheless, nothing makes him happier than being here, today, until the next one comes up – and despite what he may claim, you can fully expect he’ll be at every “next one” until he can’t do it anymore.
