Hook, Line and Sinker

Fishing is not my sport. Yes I have fished in the great lakes, a couple of oceans and a mountain stream or two. I have fished from the pier, the rocks and on the open sea. I fish in the appropriate garb and with the mandatory cooler of beer. I usually fish with the guys but caught my largest fish with a woman. I have had countless instructions from the very best in the field and can safely say I have retained very little if anything on what works with fish and what doesn’t.

My grandfather was a prolific fisherman. He would catch 50 or 60 fresh lake perch in a day, clean literally every bone out of their bodies, pass them on to grandma who would deep fry them to perfection and serve them to the seven grandchildren for immediate and complete consumption. Yum. Occasionally grandpa would take us kids out for a day of line entanglement, lost poles and bait, and a bag lunch made by grandma. The lunch was the highlight and as far as I could tell, and the only reason to go on these fishing expeditions. I think between me and my siblings we caught a grand total of three fish in 11 years.

When it was my turn to teach my children how to fish I was ready with the bagged lunch, which for them was also the highlight. Still we would drive up to the Sierras and spend some quality time lure fishing, casting off the shore, reeling in slowly and recasting until we grew tired – about 15 minutes. There once was a time when the one that “got away” was witnessed by many and deemed to be the biggest trout in the lake. I struggled with it and got it close enough to shore where a friend literally jumped in the water and tried to navigate the brute into the net which was sadly way too small to hold it. Everyone close by stopped and watched this huge, I think, prehistoric relic-like fish thrash and jump and basically put on a show. The show ended with the fish doing a triple summersault in the air forcing the line to snap and then plunging head first in perfect form into the cool blue lake. As I replayed the story to anyone in earshot, my son Max would remind me that it got away. Yes, that’s true I said, but let daddy tell his story.

The very first time I went fishing for trout it was in the same Sierras and we were with a group of accomplished fishermen and women. Not knowing what equipment would be appropriate we decided to buy what was advertised and seemed reasonable in price; in other words cheap. The rod was telescopic and could easily fold and fit in a glove box and was as convenient as the ad said for anytime you’re near a fish. You could reach into your glove box and have a completely professional rod and reel and just catch away. The price was an amazing $9.99. I bought two for me and my wife and drove 7 hours to where the fish were waiting. When we presented our gear to the regulars they, for some reason, thought we were kidding. No, we were serious. And just like in the commercial, flipped open the rod to its full extension, placed a lure (that came with it) on the end of the line and cast out with the confidence of Ahab.

For some reason, the line did not fully extend. The backlash created what they call a bird’s nest and the gear never really lived up to the promise. Everyone had a good laugh and it forced me to invest slightly more than I anticipated into some new rigging. The new stuff actually worked and after a while we were casting like pros. After a few trips we actually got the hang of it and caught a fish or two or three.

I liked to fish and it helped me learn patience. As Shannon would like to hike around the lake we would split the kids and she would take Max and Adam would hang with me. One time she took off on an excursion with Max and I was casually casting off the shore, while Adam was playing or coloring or something. After a couple of casts I was getting into the flow and didn’t notice that Adam had moved directly behind me. You guessed it. On one cast I felt a snag and the line was not moving forward. I heard Adam cry: “Dad, ouch it hurts”. I turned around and saw the lure with its hooks firmly planted on the top of his little boy head. I was horrified and immediately ran to him to see what happened. It was stuck in there good and so I yelled to Shannon to come back in a voice that only a mother could sense its urgency.

We took Adam to the emergency room and removed the lure and the doctor placed it on the full size human dummy that adorned the lobby. The dummy was a monument to fishing and was covered with hooks and lures and barb and Adam’s lure was placed right on top of the head where it belonged. Ever since that day, I’ve adopted a “catch and release” philosophy which is good news for Adam and a joke to the fish.