What get you started?

A lot of knowledgeable and experienced anglers here. If you don’t mind sharing the memories. What get you start fishing and how long have you been fishing?

I never though I’ll be here talking fishing. I always though fishing is boring and take a lot of patience.
NEVER have interest in fishing until couple summer ago looking to spend some time with my older boy(7) on weekend.
Well, one day while he fishing for sunfish i tied on a crank bait(from walmart-more action)and start cast and retrieve along shore line. Yep. My first bass catch.I real in a 3.5lb bigmouth bass. I don’t know if it the size or the fight of the fish that get me. That it. Most of the time i get skunk and still want to go fishing.

After years of rolling nets full of fish into the boat, I wondered what it would be like to catch these buggers one at a time?
Well, maybe not.

My earliest memory of fishing is from back when I was around 5 or 6 years old. We were in an old ranger glass tri-haul with a johnson 9.9 on the wold river. My dad cast out a line with a wolf river rig and handed me the pole. Moments later I hooked the biggest fish i could imagine. A crowd of boats watched as I fought this fish and eventually landed. It was huge CARP and I remember my dad getting all bent out of shape over wasting all the time on that !@#^$%#. But all the cheers of the boats around us and all the attention I got had stuck with me. I think that experience was the beginning of a desire to fish tournaments. About 40 years later, I still seek that rush, but with a couple of differences. I enjoy more now teaching what I know and get that same rush from from others catching fish in my boat. Great post! Brought back a lot of good memories for me!

In a not so great way at the time, but I’d have to say my dad. I grew up in Racine which is on Lake Michigan south of Milwaukee thats famous for the Salmon and Trout fishing. My dad would always take my older brother and me out trolling around and they would always catch fish..we’d bring coolers of fish home! Mostly Chinook with a few Cohos mixed in with an occasional Rainbow. I say they because I was always too young to reel one in… Out of all the times I went along, I was only allowed to fight one fish which turned out to be about a 12″ coho out of the old “Strike 3”. This brings back the memories!

Dad would always wake me up around 4 AM “you comin!” and I would scurry to get dressed while grabbing my favorite Salmon-A-Rama hat hoping I was quick enough as to not get left behind. We’d get the boat hooked up and it was always a special feeling heading through town with that boat. We’d get out on the lake and it never failed that my dad would always ask me if I wanted to drive while we were out trolling. Stepping up and trying to prove my worthiness to him I would jump at the chance but I was always scared to death behind the wheel of that boat with an eagle eye on the compass praying to God that I could keep a straight line so I didn’t get all of our gear tangled up. Tough to do for a 7 year old kid going 2 miles an hour through 3 and 4 foot waves!!! My concentration was often interrupted by the heavy shuffle of my dads feet heading to one of the rods at the back of the boat that was inevitebly bouncing while yelling “fish on!!!” That was my cue to make damn sure I didn’t screw up!!!

When I turned probably 8 or so, Strike 3 finally met its demise due to engine failure in a nasty storm and after that, my dad lost interest in the whole deal. I however did not. All those times going out and watching them catch fish gave me a rabid desire to catch fish of my very own.. As soon as I was old enough to go out fishin on my own I was there. I didn’t care what I would catch or where I was as long as I was fishing for a fish that I could reel in.

I can’t tell you what got me started. I had family and friends who fished. I think all the ingredients are there for me though. Being outside in nature and a challenge. Yep, that’s pretty much all I need.

My dad started me fishing at a young age. He had a 1960 Lonestar runabout with a 1959 Johnson 35HP engine he fished from. He liked fishing for anything that bit back then. We fished rivers and lakes. We vacationed in Michigan every summer. He had that boat till the engine gave out in or about 1997. Now he is 79 and has knee problems so doesn’t go as often. But when we go, I try to make sure he catches fish and I say thanks Dad.

Jeff

Alone, 7 years old, bare feet, walking through mud and scratching nettles. Hooking my very first smallie on a no#2 brown bucktail mepps. 202 zebco,20lb. test…. and that was that

My grandpa was as patient as could be, but would only “teach me once”. We would go out behind the hay barn and dig for worms. Gramps would turn the soil and I’d pluck everything that crawled. I remember the very first time he took me to his lucky spot. I got to sit on his lap as we drove the ’72 Olds; filled with smoke from his Menthol Cigarettes. On the way he told me “Now Chris, listen carefully and listen good. I’m gonna teach you all you need to know about how to catch fish. I’m only gonna show you once.” Well, we got way out in the country (not hard to do up North) and parked the green beast by a steel gate. We climbed through the fence and began the trek to the “honey hole”. I was 4 or 5. After about 1/2 mile we decended down to a small lake; a flowage really. He called it “No-No” lake. I found out years later why it was called that. I also found out years later that he had a key for that darned gate. But, I digress…

I pulled the hook towards me from the tip of a 10ft. cane pole. “Now pick a worm and I’ll show you how to put it on.” “Watch closely…I’m going to swing it out towards that group of lilly pads.” “Wait until yer bobber goes down and give it a yank.” So, there I sat…waiting. Finally my bobber went ‘plink’. I yanked. Do you know how much torque you can get from a 10′ pole. That poor sunny took flight and landed on the ground behind me. Grandpa laughed and said “I guess you got that part down.” “Now watch how I hold the fins down and wiggle the hook out.” “Got it”. I replied, “Yeah.” Then, he did the best thing he could have done. He left the worms, took his pole, and walked off down the shoreline. “Now don’t leave until I get back…and you better not get wet or gramma will skin us. Good luck.” I remember sitting there for a moment thinking this guy is crazy. Then I figured, if he thinks I can do it, I suppose I can. That was the best lesson I could have gotten. He would always tell me “Chris you can do it…just keep trying.” This message continued to resonate until the day he died. I remember getting letters from him while off to college reminding me never to quit…don’t give up…find a way…you can do it.

Anyway, Grandpa and I took countless walks down to “No-No”. I learned a lot about life from him and our fishing trips. I’m losing focus on the story but if feels good to think about Grandpa and all that he taught me. I work hard to instill those same lessons in my kids. I hope to do half the job he did.

Whew…enough of that. Anyway…let’s go catch some fish.
Rest in Peace Grandpa.