Favorite Fishing Memories

  • iceman1985
    Grand Rapids, MI
    Posts: 257
    #1269942

    I have been reading a bit in the Burned Out thread and started to really think about why I loved fishing. I realized that one of the reasons I love fishing is the memories that I make with my friends and family. I am starting this thread so people can share those favorite memories with everyone. So people can spread that feeling of joy you get when you think about your favorite trip, that moment you knew you were “hooked” on fishing, or that one person that was “the fishing influence” in your life. So come on IDO, lets make a thread that could be turned into a book someday. Ha Ha.

    I remember that fishing to me was a huge deal. My family didn’t have a ton of money, still doesn’t, and when we went to go and visit my grandparents I knew that was going to be a fishing trip.

    My grandpa and father were the two biggest fishing influences on me. My dad for panfish and my grandfather for salmon. I can still remember sitting on the living room floor at my grandpa’s house digging through his and my fathers tackle boxes as they preped our gear for the next morning. It was like a treasure chest with all the lures that they had. Spoons, plugs, stick baits, crank baits, spinners, and everything else inbetween. My brother and I were like kids in a candy store just browsing but being able to touch everything we saw.

    I would listen to them talk about the wind, how that would affect the fish. What the water temp was and weather or not their target species would be favored in the morning. It was a wealth of knowledge that I can look back on. Come to think of it, I believe that I heard some of the things so many times that now they are just instinct.

    That night before the fishing trip I could never sleep. I was just so excited at the promise of what could come in the morning. I can still remember the only thing that would put me to sleep was the sound of the 11:30 PM train running its cource and the clack of the wheels would sooth my active mind.

    We would all wake up before the sun had any sence to rise and hop in the van. It was never hard to get up on those mornings having dreamed of wrangling giant fish all night. Once we got to the lake we would begin that long stroll down the boardwalk towards pier. It was about that time that the world began to wake up. The wind began to whisper through the dune grass, the gentle rumble of the surf created a background of bass as the gulls started their mourning cries to meet the sun.

    Grandpa had a cart he made to tow all his gear and that added to the natural symphony of sounds with a man made rattle that somehow didn’t seem out of place. It just jumped in and created another layer of what the pier sounded like.

    To watch Grandpa and dad walk ahead of us as we played on the rocks was a thing of beauty too. Their slow, steady strides could keep time on a score of music as they talked about what they would do first.

    We would pass the old timers sitting on their buckets, not moving, like they had somehow become part of the concret pier where we walked. The only way I could tell if they were real was the slight nod they gave to my elders. They acted like moving was a waste unless they had to set a hook.

    Once we found our spot, out came the rods and luers. Unless we would be fishing for perch, which dad was most of the time, they out came the minnow bucket. Grabbing the minnows was always a fun thing to do as a kid. Feeling them swim around your fingers as you grabbed at empty water. Once you did catch one though it was like you had just reeled in a huge fish cause I would say, “Look Dad, I got one!” He would chuckle and show me how to place that shiner on the hook so it would still live and give those fish a nice target to eat.

    All of this was well and good for my brother and I untill our rods were in the water and then we had to wait. I don’t know how long it was untill him and I were roaming the concrete jetty but it couldn’t have been much time. We were always called back when my father would say, “You gotta bite Zach!” or Ben depending who’s poll was being attacked by the fish below. That would always reel us back into our buckets and focus our attention, at least for a little while, back onto our rod tips.

    While all of this was going on my Grandfather would be casting his spoon for salmon. It was like watching an artist paint a masterpiece with each cast because each cast was something of perfection in my eyes. The rod arching under the weight of the lure, the snap of his arms bringing that rod through, and the silver streak of the spoon as it rocketed out to the deapths. Then came that steady rotation of his reel. Around and around and around time after time, never slowing, never to fast, only to repeat the whole process again when it was time to re-launch his lure.

    I still remember hearing his reel sing as he hooked into a steelhead. That scream of the fish taking off is a sound no one who has heard it will ever be able to forget. His concentration became aparent but it still looked as if he was relaxed enough to talk with anyone who may pass by. Once he got his fish in it was a celebration all around at first and then came the decision to keep or throw back. On to the roap it would go, over the side of the pier, and then the roap would be tied to his leg. When I asked him why not tie it to the pier he would always say, “Just to make sure buddy.”

    When I hooked into perch though it was like someone had told me I won the lotery. It always felt like I could have the biggest fish on in the world as you reeled in.
    “Keep your rod tip high bud. Don’t want to get him caught on those rocks.” my dad would say as I fought with the yellow belly below. Swinging that fish onto the pier was one of the best feelings I ever have had. No matter the size of the fish it was always like I had just landed the biggest fish in the world. High fives and hugs were handed out and from my grandfather, a nod and a smile. I knew he was proud of me.

    The best part about that whole experience was doing it with people that I loved, with people who loved me, and knowing that sometime soon, I could possibly do it again.

    That is one of the memories that I cherish and it can keep me going sometimes when I don’t feel like I want to fish anymore. I feel like going back to the root of everything, remembering why you loved fishing in the first place, that is one reason why we fish and it is that drive, that memory that will in turn push us and will us to make new ones to look back on in the future. I hope you enjoyed this and I hope it will inspire you to take 15-20 mins of your day and share your best memory with all of us.

    Mike W
    MN/Anoka/Ham lake
    Posts: 13294
    #917557

    My brother and I would dig up a bucket of worms behind the house in Aitkin then hike the half mile down to the west shore of long lake to fish off the docks for pan fish. At that time most of the cabins where owned by weekenders so we had no problems hopping dock to dock seeing what was biting. The zebco 202 was the weapon of choice. Before that it was just a board with some fishing line wrapped around it. I remember my brother catching a walleye and we didnt know what it was.

    Not sure why but the passion for fishing started early and has never faded since.

    CaptRickHiott
    Charleston,SC
    Posts: 64
    #917561

    This was a few years back ,,,but I traded a trip with another guide from Savannah.
    Well,, he brought his six year old daughter, what a sweet little girl! She could “almost” handle the rod as good as an adult.
    She caught this red drum all by herself!

    She sent me this letter in the mail the next week with a little charm that she made for me.
    I will never forget this trip as long as I live!!!!
    You know how it is guys,,,It tugs at your heart string!

    iceman1985
    Grand Rapids, MI
    Posts: 257
    #917568

    Those are great stories guys. I love reading about how people got hooked on fishing or certain trips that you will never forget. Keep them coming!

    jeff_jensen
    cassville ,wis
    Posts: 3053
    #917571

    Walking the banks of Grant river, barefoot, dodging nettles and angus bulls. Kickin dried cow pies over for crawlers and worms. Cane poles, gold wire hooks, meadowlarks and kingfishers, suckers, rockroller chubs and mabe a trout or smallie.
    Then it was on to the 202 zebco and the no#2 brown bucktail mepps…………it took!

    bret_clark
    Sparta, WI
    Posts: 9362
    #917579

    Awesome reads guys

    My Fishing nut Grandfather died when I was around 8. Still to this day an image of him is burned into my head while he pulled a stinger of bass from the boat in the garage. At 7 years old they all looked like 20 ponders to me

    After a couple years past Grandma moved in and she was still a fishing machine. Her favorite target was the bottom dwelling whiskered species. My bother and I always knew when we were in for a weekend of fishing in the dark. On Wednesday’s if you stepped of the bus and got a whiff of her catfish brew, it was time to get the gear in order.

    The most memorable night…..Goose Island shelter house three. I was pushin’ 12years old and getting to be a pro (in my own mind), thanks to Grandma. She would still be using her homemade bait but the more I read the more I realized live baits and cut baits produced, so the more I started to use them.

    After Grandma had her 3rd barley on this warm night (with me sippin’ the one that always had my name on it) it was time for her to hit the portable. I sat there listening to the lantern burn hot white while staring at the rod tips until the night gathered me in. It was then the clicker on one of the cuts baits brought me back to earth. With a racing heart and trying to get the mind back into working order the rod was grabbed and the hook was set.

    A big cat broke surface and I’m sure by my voice, Grandma knew something big was going on outside of the outhouse. My jaw dropped and the task at hand was almost forgot as she came flying out of the door and was grabbing for her pants which were still around her ankles. We both busted a gut laughing after landing our first flathead together at 22lbs. We stared at that fish together for a couple hours

    Toast Grandma Flossie

    jeff_jensen
    cassville ,wis
    Posts: 3053
    #917583

    Toast Grandma Flossie

    I knew something disturbing happened to you pal, now we know

    mossydan
    Cedar Rapids, Iowa
    Posts: 7727
    #917584

    I remember going with my dad, after hunting crawlers, down to the slough all the time after dinner, this was in the center of town. There was a bridge that we would walk out on that crossed a canal and dad told me to stay on the bridge and watch the poles. I later realized why he told me to stay on the bridge. I was around 9 or 10 at most at the time and he’d tell me he was going walking shooting rats with his 22 rifle. This was in town but at a time when nobody cared about guys doing things like that. He’d shoot rats and fish once in awhile and I’d fish.

    There were a few switchmen along the tracks by where we fished that got to know him and everytime they were around they would walk over and ask dad how many rats he shot that night. I would stand there catching bullhead after bullhead and once in awhile a carp or two and always tons of bluegills. Dad would walk his rounds down the tracks he had picked out and come back about an hour later after I heard him shoot a few times. I remember asking him once what would happen if anyone heard him shooting, he said nobody cares and they didn’t back then.

    My mom and I would occasionally go by ourselves too and I have a couple fond memories of fishing with just her too. One of my fondest memories is with my mother when I was around 7 or 8. I hooked into this big carp and I tried to get it in but couldn’t. So my mom grabbed the pole and tried her best to get it in but also couldn’t. So there was a guy standing close by also fishing and she asked if he would come down and help us land this fish. He finially landed it and it looked to me like a 50 pounder but in reality it was about 20 pounds. Its things like that, that sharpen a young kids eyes.

    All those days back then wheather it was fishing with my folks or mushroom hunting with just my dad are fond memories. Fishing was in all of our blood wheather it was fishing for catfish or trout, it didn’t matter because we just liked to fish because it was better then sitting at home and there was other things to enjoy. It doesn’t have to be full stringers to make fond memories that I too will never forget.

    iceman1985
    Grand Rapids, MI
    Posts: 257
    #917585

    Great story Bret. Thant is why I started this thread! I love it!

    mikee
    Aitkin, MN
    Posts: 55
    #917596

    Two years ago my two sons took time out of their careers to come home and fish with dad. We went to Mille Lacs one evening in June and proceeded to catch and release 90, count ’em 90, smallmouth. That was the best time the three of us have had fishing. Very memorable for dad, just me and my boys.

    Randy Wieland
    Lebanon. WI
    Posts: 13473
    #917635

    I really can not narrow down one “favorite” memory. I’ve been blessed to have had so many opportunities in life, and they all contribute to who I have become today.

    My mom and dad have always been supportive of me doing anything in the outdoors. Even back in grade school, I could do just about anything related to fishing. As strange as it may seem, I had extreme freedom if I was going fishing. Did a lot of things back then, that would not be acceptable today. My folks would drop me and a friend off at South Pier in Racine, with my lawn chair, cart, rods, net, cooler…and I spent days at a time on the pier. That was back in 1979. They would come out with food and check in on us. But at 12 years old, who would let a kid do that today.

    As I think about this more, I guess that was the beginning. I always find a sense of serenity while fishing. Doesn’t matter if it’s a guide trip, tournament, or just fun fishing. I escape from what ever is bothering me, and it gives me a sense of peace. For those that know me personally, they know why I was seeking peace away from my family.

    A few highlights that I find humorous from the years:

    1. I caught a crappie in Little Arbor while walleye fishing that was 20-1/2″ long. Just a freak of nature to see. I came in at about 4:30 am to the dock at our cabin and put it in a mesh live box we had. I got up at about 7, and was going to ask my dad if I could get it mounted. I saw him out the window at the cleaning table, and he had already cleaned all my fish including the crappie. Most likely would have blown away the state record, but I never even thought about that at the time.

    2. I caught a 13+” gill in Lake Mendota. I have a video of it, only because of how weird it looked. Never thought about records or anything like that. Couldn’t afford to get it mounted,…but it tasted great fried in butter.

    3. Lake Erie tournament – I had less than 10 minutes to fish with ZERO fish in the live well before making a half hour run back. Moved the boat closer to a rock I saw along the shore on the way out. Pulled a 22# bag, culled 2 fish in under 10 minutes. Placed 4th out of 80+ boats. Went from the extreme lows of a blank to thinking I had a shot at winning the whole thing.

    Today, I find the greatest memories are those that are still being made. I find so much fun in giving back and teaching what I have learned. I can sit here for the longest time paging through pictures, watching old videos, and reflecting on all the things I have done – and those that have shared in my experiences. The pictures I am drawn to the most are that of the kids that I have had out with me. Not just my own daughters, but all of them. Many of the parents I could get by with never seeing again, but I do often think of the kids and wonder what influence I may have had on them. Its also so much fun to see the kids that I have introduced to fishing at my kids fishing event every year that are now coming back to visit and show off. I do share a huge level of accomplishment when I see them succeeding.

    I also give a lot of my time away, just to meet new people and see different techniques. I’ve met a lot of IDO members (Best group of guys/gals on the web! ) and have built some very good friendships. Not to exclude anyone, but a couple have really been a great for when I was having a crappy day. I met Joel just a couple days after I took a huge pay cut to try to keep my job. I was truly in panic mode and didn’t really care about fishing that day. But listening to him about layoffs and finding a way was inspiring. He may not have the same perception of the day, but it did me a lot of good. Milemark_714 has probably shared the most outrageous experiences, and I can only imagine what goes through his mind. If anyone runs into Scott, ask him about the crap-house Yack or the Slob-Trip. He’ll be just about on the ground laughing so hard. Or telling you about the coffee that was so strong I puked it up out his old wagon’s window somewhere around Sparta.

    Its all of it that gives me the drive to find out what will happen next. I thank God, my family, and my friends for the experiences in my life.

    Here’s a few pics of others that have contributed to what I enjoy so much











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    koldfront kraig
    Coon Rapids mn
    Posts: 1816
    #917654

    Lake Of The Woods last March.

    The first year for the kids.





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