How I Got Here

I've got to believe that much of my passion for fishing is just natural.  Even as a young kid, anytime that I would see a new lake or river I'd find myself wondering how I'd do if I fished it and wishing that I could.  Growing up with a dad who was invested in me and who enjoyed fishing was a big push.  We did a lot of bobber fishing in rented row boats.  We'd mainly catch bluegills, but occasional brushes with monsters were the highlights.  I can remember my uncle Tim getting into a pike that broke his line when it charged straight under the boat.  I can also remember a big bass in a farm pond in Illinois that kept chasing our hooked gills to shore.  My dad switched over to a great big crankbait and caught the fish on his first cast.  To a kid with a Zebco 303, these fish were nothing short of amazing.  It may be here that the big fish seed was planted.

My friend John introduced me to the river when we were in high school.  His family lived on the banks of the Grand and we'd spend our summers in nothing but shorts banging around on the water in his dad's old boat.  My family started calling us Tom and Huck.  Fishing the river with John provided me with my first experience of setting a hook into a fish and feeling it not budge an inch.  Man, what a beautiful feeling!

My dad finally bought a boat and trailer of his own and we set out to conquer the river ourselves.  We have hundreds and hundreds of hours of river time under our belts.  We've gotten pretty good at figuring out the smallies and the walleye.  We also spend a lot of time just still fishing and catching whatever will eat a worm.  That has become my dad's favorite.  We have several spots, most of them named.  We hit one, drop anchor, and drop lines.  My dad's declaration that "this is the life" is always quick to follow.

My dad and John got me to the river.  Someone that I had never met turned me into a cat guy.  I caught a walleye one hot and sunny afternoon and by the time I took a picture I wasn't able to revive it.  A good old boy who undoubtedly spent most of his life living somewhere down south happened to be trolling by.  I offered him the walleye.  He was extremely grateful and he apparently wanted to thank me by telling me every last thing that he knew about fishing for cats.  He talked for quite awhile, but I basically gleaned two things.  I should try night fishing and I should catch a rock bass and put a fresh fillet on a hook.  I tried it that very night and quickly caught a channel.  There was a certain magic about having something work so well.

It didn't take long before I found myself obsessing about catching more.  I started stretching my day trips into the night until my day trips were replaced by evening and night outings.  My early days involved bass gear, store bought minnows, and whatever hooks I happened to have.  The family didn't like me fishing alone at night, so I usually just fished a big flat right off of the boat ramp.  I caught plenty of fish in there, both channels and flatties.  Soon I quit caring about other fish and just wanted to get better and better at catching these night prowling monsters.  We'll see how I've done in future posts.