Your Earliest Memory of Fishing

[zonker]

As shack nastys, fishing pox,and wrist rehab threaten to steal our sanity, let me call for a little storytelling...

What's your earliest memory of fishing? Who were you with? What did you catch? How did it affect you?

z~

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[TubeDude]

[cool][#0000ff]That always makes for a good topic of discussion amongst anglers. But, since you asked the questions, why didn't you volunteer your own innermost private revelations to get the ball rolling. Bashful? Humble? Forgetful?[/#0000ff]
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[#0000ff]I actually do not remember my first fishing trip, as recorded in this ancient black and white photo. Supposedly I caught these fish while hanging on to a rod and trolling on some lake in Idaho when I was about 4 years old.[/#0000ff]
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[#0000ff]My first remembered fishing trips were starting at around age 5, tromping the banks of Idaho trout streams with my parents or one of my uncles. I mostly watched them fish and swatted mosquitoes. Sometimes I helped by catching grasshoppers or finding worms or grubs for bait. Once in awhile I was handed a rod and allowed to hoist out one of the typical small stream trout we usually caught.[/#0000ff]
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[#0000ff]That was enough to begin the process of a chronic and permanant passion for fishing. By age 6 I had my own pole and spent all of my available time fishing along Willow Creek, a stream that came down from the hills above Idaho Falls and ran through town until it emptied into the Snake River. It was only about a half block from our house to the creek and it allowed me to experiment and develop my angling knowledge and skills without adult interference.[/#0000ff]
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[#0000ff]In a moment of wistful reminiscence some time back, I sat down at the keyboard and wrote a few paragraphs about that stream of my youth, and its lifelong affect upon me. I have attached a PDF file of those ramblings.[/#0000ff]
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[Saberfish]

[black][size 3]I guess that this posting reflects the way too often occasion when the elderly mind goes into it's "reflective period". I find myself going into this mode more often as I get older.[/size][/black]
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[size 3]I have a picture that is of me as a preschooler with a small trout, (my first), and the amazing thing about the photo is that I could have been TubeDude's twin (also a skinny toe-head).[/size]
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[size 3]I guess if I was really going to impress you with my memory, I could tell you that I could remember going on a fishing trip with my father, and coming home with my mother.[/size]
[size 3]lol[/size]
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[zonker]

I would've volunteered something last night when I posted during a period of insomnia except that the house was quiet, Mrs. zonker was asleep, and I couldn't use my voice recognition software without waking her. I'm reduced to one finger pecking on the keyboard and it is very slow. I'm looking for the earliest picture that I have that relates to fishing. It's an old black-and-white shot with me, my Hopalong Cassidy cowboy hat, my grandpa, and his tackle box. I don't remember the occasion, but obviously I was there.

My earliest memory of fishing is one that's a combination of wisps of recollection and accounts that I received from my grandfather. He told me that he had me out fishing "right after you were out of your three cornered pants." It took me years to figure out what three cornered pants were. That's a very old term for diapers. My earliest memory is one of sitting in my grandfather's boat on Shasta Lake in Northern California. I don't remember much about the boat but I remember that the motor was red. I recall holding my fishing pole, watching a red and white plastic bobber with a worm underneath. My grandpa said it was time to go but I told them I wanted to fish just a little longer. He must have waited a few minutes before he started the motor. Then the boat started to move with my line still the water. Suddenly the bobber jerked and I was fast to a small largemouth bass. I carried that fish around until the scales fell off showing it to all my relatives and neighbors. I would guess I was five or six years old, but I may have been younger than that. Later my grandfather or my dad cut down an old metal rod of some sort and attached a primitive fly reel with some braided Dacron line. With the bobber and worm on the end I could sling the thing out about 5 feet from the edge of the lake and catch bluegills. This fascinated me for hours on end, while grandpa and dad fished for bigger game.

By the time I was 11 or 12, my grandpa had the early stages of crippling arthritis. But that didn't stop his fishing and hunting. He always managed to do it somehow. I recall one time when he wanted to take me to the Sacramento River to try to catch trout. My mom said no because if I fell in the water grandpa couldn't swim to get me out. Somehow he managed to compromise with mom and agreed that if she would let me go, he would tie me to a tree just short of the water where I couldn't fall in. We fished all morning like that and I caught my first 12 inch trout. Again the fish was lugged around and shown to everyone in the neighborhood. Those were good days and instilled in me a love of fishing that I've never been able to shake. Other fishermen will understand that well. The rest of the population doesn't have a clue.

Over the years I've tried to analyze how something as simple as fishing for an animal with a brain the size of a small pea can captivate men from the simplest to the most accomplished. Whatever it is, it must be a part of the plan of God as it provides such good clean joy. My grandfather has been gone for many years. I'd love to have the opportunity to thank him for giving me such a gift.

z~
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[zonker]

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[black][size 3]I guess that this posting reflects the way too often occasion when the elderly mind goes into it's "reflective period". I find myself going into this mode more often as I get older.[/size][/black]
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[]Geezerhood is great, eh Saberfish?

z~
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[zonker]

Pat,

I just finished reading your "The Making of a Fisherman." I really enjoyed it. Amazing how young fisherman growing up during that era had similar experiences. Your comments about "never being able to go back" awakened my own reflections. There was a spot on the upper Sacramento River in northern California where my family used to go to picnic during my early teens. The river isn't large up there so it wasn't difficult to spot trout finning in the current. They were almost always willing to cooperate. As my parents would unload the picnic supplies, I would grab my rod, run down the hill, tie on a tiny gold hook with a salmon egg, and I'd usually have a trout flopping on the bank before they got down the hill. My dad would take a spot near the riffle at the top of the run. I would be in between where the water moved along a rock ledge, and my grandfather, by now limited because of his arthritis, would be below us with his line set in the slacker current. Some of the fondest memories that I have are of that spot. I hadn't been there for years until about 15 years ago. On one of my trips to California to see my parents I decided to go down to that spot. It really hadn't changed much, though I recall it being a much larger place from my childhood memories. As I sat there, pictures of the many trips to that spot flooded into my mind and I found myself unable to hold back the tears - a strange mix of joy, gratitude, ness, and probably some other emotions mixed in as well. A human being with these kinds of memories is rich no matter how much or little he has.

Okay, I'll stop blubbering now.

z~
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[TubeDude]

[cool][#0000ff]A lot of nice spots along the upper Sacramento. I fished it several times during the years I lived in Sacramento. I was angered and dened when that truck went off the road and spilled toxic chemicals in the water after I had moved. It sounded like the whole river was killed all the way to Shasta. But, from more recent reports, the river has recovered nicely and is still producing fish...and memories.[/#0000ff]
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[#0000ff]I too am becoming increasingly ensnared in geezerhood. But, when folks ask if I hate growing older I just say "Not when I consider the alternative." I am not afraid of dying...someday...but I would like to think there is still a lot of fishing I have to accomplish first. I believe that we are never too old to enjoy new experiences and to create new memories. At least I think I do. I sometimes forget.[/#0000ff]
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[tubeN2]

The first trip that I remember was when I was 2 or 3 years old. (Only a few years ago since I have a grand son now).

I remembered being at Lake Cachuma in California. We were using corn under a bobber. The fishing was a little slow that day but we were fishing and everyone was catching.

I heard about other outings that we had around that time but my Dad could probably tell you more information than I could.

I guess that all that fishing since then has impacted my brain cells to the point of getting Intubitis.[cool]
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[TubeDude]

[cool][#0000ff]Hope you don't mind if I share this little family story I wrote about one of your first fishing excursions...to Arrowhead Lake in California.[/#0000ff]
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[#0000ff]For the benefit of those who do not know our family history, I was a mostly single father raising three kids. Mike was the oldest, Kimberly in the middle and Steve was the caboose. In addition to family outings we sometimes alternated with just one kid and dad. Fun times.[/#0000ff]
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[macfly55]

...my story is not that long but it is a memory that Ill never forget...

I was about 5 or 6 years old and we were on vacation at my grandpartents farm in Illinois. There was a small pond on the farm. It was probably a big watering hole more than a pond but at five years old it seemed huge. There was a small dock (for lack of better words) that led from the shoreline and about ten feet or so out into the water.

I dont remember how many of my brothers and sisters were there but the other key person in this story is my grandmother. She was the fisherwoman of the family. I was using a small cane pole with a line tied on the end of it. My grandmother set the bobber and put a worm on the hook for me. She then flicked the line into the water for me. She told me to hold the pole and watch the bobber. She told me that if the bobber went under water to give the line a light tug.

At first I watched the bobber intently waiting for it to sink into the water. After a few short minutes my short attention span let my mind wander. I was looking everywhere except at the bobber. Grandma would remind me once in a while but being only five it was not long before my mind and attention wandered.

During one of these times when I was thinking of anything but the bobber I heard my grandma and my brother, among others, yelling at me to lift the rod. I looked down at the water and bobber was going up and down in the water.

Startled I gave the rod a good jerk and was surprised to see my bobber coming at me. I screamed and ducked. When I opened my eyes I turned around and looked at my grandma. She was laughing really hard, almost hysterically. I was not sure what was going on so I looked around and saw my older brother rubbing his cheek and turning red. He was mad and I did not know why.

Once grandma stopped laughing she told me that when I jerked hard on the rod the bobber was headed straight for my head. When I ducked my older brother ended up getting slapped in the face by the small sunfish that I had caught.

When she told me this I started laughing as well but my brother did not. I could see he was mad and it was gonna be a while before he would get over it. Later that night I got a good punch on my arm from him for smacking him with the fish.

That was the first fish I ever caught and even though I got a punch from my brother over it, it is a memory I will never forget.

MacFly [cool]
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[zonker]

Great story MacFly. Does your brother remember it, too?

z~
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[zonker]

Bravo on the story of Steve's First Fish!

z~
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[tubeN2]

I'm just glad he didn't get a video of my first tubing launch from the fishmaster.[shocked]
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[macfly55]

...[] and Im glad no one got a video of me trying to exit the caddis tube at Laguna Niguel...[sly]

MacFly [cool]
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[macfly55]

..actually he did.. every once in a while when he would come to visit for a weekend we would talk about family "adventures" and that "fishing incident" was discussed every once in a while.. []

MacFly [cool]
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[Majja]

Probably not my first, but I remember fishing with my dad and grandad when I was very small in my grandpa 14ft al boat. Man those were good times.
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[MT_Pilgrim]

Excellent topic Zonker! I have lots of memories of first fishing outings, but this is the only one with a picture too. It was my first big "catch"!
When I was around 6 years old I was at my Grandparents cabin on the lake for a family get together. While I was out looking for frogs and bugs, a neighbors kid came out and told me about this big musky floating in the bay. I ran to the boat house to get the biggest landing net I could find! I ran down the shore to the bay, and sure enough, there it was, at least 3 ft long! right near shore. I quietly waded out towards it as to not spook it, that was unnessecary, for unfortunately it was DEAD! It sure looked good though, and didn't smell too bad, so I scooped it up and started draggin to the cabin, I then anounced my catch! Everyone came out and looked! When someone said that it was dead, I concocted a story about how it died while I was dragging it home.
The odor gave away my tale though! we took a bunch of pics, everyone wanted to get a snapshot with it, then my Grampa buried it in the woods. I succeeded in getting what I and all little kids love...Attention![cool]

I am the geeky looking kid with the curly hair...


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[zonker]

Great story! At that age it doesn't mean whole lot if the fish is dead. It's still a fish. And we "caught" it. I can remember in my early teens hauling around big "sore tail" Salmon after foul hooking them. At that age it didn't much matter to me. It was a big fish.

I'm not quite sure what it is that causes one kid to have experiences like that and become a lifelong fishing addict, while another drops it as quickly as it started and never goes back. Oh well, perhaps I philosophize too much. It really doesn't matter.

Thanks for sharing. That's a great picture.

z~
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[macfly55]

... cool story and reply here.. I "caught" a good sized catfish one time using just a net to "retrieve" it out of a small pool of water it had gotten caught in..

MacFly [cool]
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[AdictedBassTard]

My earliest memory was at four years old, dropping marbles on the guppies and minnows in my father's fish tank. The only rod that was used was by my father across my behind.

-ABT
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