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Old 08-19-2012, 12:53 AM   #1
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Fishin' Best Memories

All this talk about fishing on the camp food thread got me thinking about great times I've had with a fishing pole in my hand. I'll tell you some of mine, if you'll tell me some of yours.

1. I was a youngster of about ten years and had talked my Dad into letting me bring a freind with us, to one of our favorite streams. My Dad wasn't much into taking others, because he wanted to keep our best places secret.

Well, I, and my freind were fishing opposite sides of the stream, with my Dad ahead of us, but within earshot. Donny, (my freind), stepped toward the edge of the bank in order to reach a good looking hole. Suddenly, he started yelping, and jumping around, and heading away from the stream. As he moved, he yelped - "Bees!" I knew then that he'd stepped squarely on a ground hornets nest. I move quickly forward so as not to get stung myself.

Now you have to understand that a year before, and two years before that, I had stepped on ground hornets nests and got all stung up. I had a healthy fear of the little flying beasts.

After the day of fishing was done, we all headed back to the two-track that would take us back to the car. Well, Donny saw a great ant mound in the middle of the two-track. I wasn't all that sure that it was filled with ants, and still had the fresh memories of Donny's encounter with the yellow jackets. The, I looked up. Above my head circled several deer flies. Now a deer fly doesn't look a lot like a hornet, or wasp. But it is yellow-bodied.

I panicked. I took off running as my Dad tried to tell me that they were only deer flies. But he was having a hard time because he was laughing so hard. I ran all the way to the car, about a mile in distance, looking upward and still seeing the deer flies buzzing above me. I then ran all the way back to where my Dad and Donny were still walking. My dad stopped me and let me know of my erroneous identification of the bugs. I had lost a shoe during the run, and had abandoned it, as I wasn't about to slow down and retrieve it while the deer flies were chasing me. I picked it up on the way to the car. We laughed about the incident for years.

2. My Dad had rented a row boat from which we were to fish a great perch filled area called Back Bay. He rowed us out and set the anchor. We proceeded to fish with minnows and night crawlers. Now my Dad was one of the best fishermen I have ever known. He never got skunked. Me, it was a 50/50 chance whether I would catch fish in open water.

Dad fished one side of the boat, and I fished the other. Suddenly, I started catching fish, as fast as I could get them off the hook and re-bait my line. Dad wasn't getting a bite. After about ten minutes of this, he pulled rank on me, which I didn't think was at all fair, and we changed sides. As luck would have it, the school of perch moved with me, and the process continued. I was pulling them up as fast as I could, and my poor Dad wasn't getting any. That was the only day in my life that I out-fished my Dad.

3. Me and Dad were fishing a beaver dam. He was a ways away from me, and we were both having good luck. I spotted a submerged log, with a good looking hole under it. I flipped my night crawler toward the log, and sure enough, a beautiful brookie darted out from underneath, intent on inhaling my worm. To my surprise, he stopped short of it by about 3 inches. It was like he ran into an invisible pane of glass. He lunged a couple more times, with each effort resulting in him coming up short. He slunk back under the log, giving up on the worm.

Now he was a nice fish, and I wanted him. Besides, my curiosity was running full boar. So I flipped the worm toward him again, but this time closer to the log. Sure enough, he lunged and gulped the worm. I set the hook and began to reel him in. But at that same spot that he'd been unable to pass before, he came to a dead stop again. And I couldn't move him. I wasn't going to lose that fish.

The water didn't look too deep, and so I waded in. It rose up to my chest. When I got to the fish, and bent down to get it, I found out what was causing this strange circumstance. Someone else had caught this critter before me, but had snapped his line. The fish was still tethered to the log by the other hook and fishing line. So I reached into the water and snipped the line, saving both me and the fish a slow death by starvation. Well, maybe I wasn't starving, exactly, but I was awful skinny in those days.

I have so many wonderful stories about fishing, things like catching my best friend in the ear lobe, or outrunning a lake freighter at night, in a canoe with no lights, or watching my Dad fall out of the canoe, things like that. But now, it's your turn. Share with us a good memory.

Seeeeeeya; Chief Longwind of the North

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Old 08-19-2012, 06:45 AM   #2
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Growing up, I spent part of every summer at Lake of the Woods (northern MN). My grandpa had this Lund aluminum boat, he'd load us up in the boat, and we'd head out to fish off the third sand bar, or the loaf, or the reef. It would be my dad, my brothers, and I in the boat. My grandpa had an old "short" steel fishing rod that each of the grandkids used to catch their own fish. I would watch my bobber until it went under, and then grandpa would help me reel it in. I caught my first fish when I was 4 years old. A keeper-sized walleye.

My parents had a cabin on the Canadian side of LOW for about 10 years. I would spend about 4-6 weeks there every summer. That side of the lake is rocky. If the weather was nice, we'd get up early, pack a shore lunch, load the dogs into the boat, and head out to the islands. We'd fish until about noon, tie up to a tree on one of the islands, clean the fish, and have what we'd brought and the fresh fish (walleye) for shore lunch. Then we'd grab our books and pretend we were seals and lie on the warm granite rocks in the sun, read, nap, swim, and then pack it all in and fish our way home.

Often times we'd watch eagles fishing, great blue heron, and the loons diving. Ahhh--those were the glorious summers!

Fishing at LOW is still my most favorite thing at my most favorite place--I have moved, my parents have moved, others have died, but LOW has stayed the same. I missed it this summer--but still planning on going to LOW for a couple of days of R-and-R in September. Who knows, my godfather might come up and we might go fishing...
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Old 08-19-2012, 02:47 PM   #3
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Dad and I were fishing at one of his favorite spots on Lake of the Woods, and we ran out of minnows. We were having some luck, and didn't want to stop, so Dad poked out a couple of fish eyes, and we baited the hooks with them. We had never caught so many walleyes! Hit after hit. And the eyeballs stayed on the hook, so no need to re-bait. Next day, Dad thought we were on to something, and we brought a stash of fish eyes. Of course, we caught nothing.

Baby Bro and I went fishing on LOW as young adults, caught a few, and filetted them in the boat. Then we proceeded to have a fish gut fight. We came back to the cabin, covered in fish guts, scales, and offal. My mom refused to let us in the cabin till we hosed off.
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Old 08-22-2012, 02:39 AM   #4
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H and I as kids wearing shorts went poaching trout by means of tickling. Climbing down the bank I disturbed a wasp nest. Think shorts tender area's and mad wasps.
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Old 08-22-2012, 08:36 AM   #5
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Bolas De Fraile View Post
H and I as kids wearing shorts went poaching trout by means of tickling. Climbing down the bank I disturbed a wasp nest. Think shorts tender area's and mad wasps.
I can relate. That first next I stepped on was at age 7, and like you, wearing shorts. It wasn't fun. I could open a whole new thread about how many times I've been stung over the years. It's ridiculous. It's a good thing I'm not allergic to bees, hornets, or wasps.

I'm only allergic to ornery teenagers and Wal Mart.

Seeeeeeya; Chief Longwind of the North
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Old 08-22-2012, 09:14 AM   #6
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Dawgluver View Post
Dad and I were fishing at one of his favorite spots on Lake of the Woods, and we ran out of minnows. We were having some luck, and didn't want to stop, so Dad poked out a couple of fish eyes, and we baited the hooks with them. We had never caught so many walleyes! Hit after hit. And the eyeballs stayed on the hook, so no need to re-bait. Next day, Dad thought we were on to something, and we brought a stash of fish eyes. Of course, we caught nothing.

Baby Bro and I went fishing on LOW as young adults, caught a few, and filetted them in the boat. Then we proceeded to have a fish gut fight. We came back to the cabin, covered in fish guts, scales, and offal. My mom refused to let us in the cabin till we hosed off.
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Old 08-22-2012, 01:09 PM   #7
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Chief Longwind Of The North View Post
I can relate. That first next I stepped on was at age 7, and like you, wearing shorts. It wasn't fun. I could open a whole new thread about how many times I've been stung over the years. It's ridiculous. It's a good thing I'm not allergic to bees, hornets, or wasps.

I'm only allergic to ornery teenagers and Wal Mart.

Seeeeeeya; Chief Longwind of the North
Goodweed Im glad you feel my pain
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Old 08-24-2012, 06:35 PM   #8
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I have fond memories of backpacking with my grandfather and fishing in the High Sierra's. You could catch as many lake trout as you wanted and usually only took a couple of casts to get one. They were small but tasty. I also caught a 4lb brown while trolling with the wrong gear and going too fast. I was 12 or 13 and it was just me and a friend in the speedboat. There was a WW2 bomber that crashed in the lake and they tried to salvage it that same summer (after years on the bottom). I would fish and watch them bring up pieces all summer long. Most of the time it was just me at 12 or 13 and my dog in the boat. Pops gave me a gas card so I was good to go.

I mostly go Ocean fishing now and there is a story every time. It is quite an adventure going out in the pacific in a small boat. I have taken on water, had sea lions try and get in the boat, had a bi-plane buzz us and been out during a small craft advisory. We killed the fish that day but it was pretty dangerous. I wound up surfing a wave all the way into Santa Cruz in front of the lighthouse just like the surfers do but with a 19' boat in a storm. It was a battle just to get to the harbor and jump a wave to get in.
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Old 08-24-2012, 09:08 PM   #9
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As child, my dad decided since there was no hope of a son I would do. So he outfitted me in a t-shirt, a wool shirt and blue jeans. now a paie of heavy socks and some boots. A straw hat phooey dad I wanted a ball cap He then marched me down to the Store and stable at Sorensen's hoisted me up on a fat old horse who was already to go home and climbed up behind me. He had another horse with us to carry the fishing gear and creels, our lunch and away we went. After that first shock we started to climb the horse snorting me hanging on for dear life and dad with this big smile on his face. I didn't let on to dad I was thrilled to be the chosen ONE and my sister was back at the cabin with mother sniffeling and rubbing her eyes I had the time of my life and learned thing that day that are still with me to this day. How to follow the stream to get back to camp. How not to thro my shaddow over the water that would scare off the fish. Now My dad would only fish mountain streams for trout. Rainbows,browns. Trout was his thing that and Birds. but we never hunted just fished. Then I got a shock, I had about 6 trout I'd cought, and was ready for lunch, Why no honey, you have to catch the rest of your limit before lunch or going home. but I learned that the limit was 20 and did that set me back on my heel.I had more fun in store on the ride Down HILL arggg that hurt, so I got dad to let me off and I ran down hill in about 5 min. The horse and dad it took 15 so I guess you know I always ran from then on. But that was so much fun, Dad taught me to clean my fish and pack it with wet grass from the stream. Oh the smells as he struck the match that would start the kindleing I'd gathered, the frying fish, the potatos and onions, Mom hauling a cobbler out of the little oven we'd borrowed from my aunt emmm Yummy And the coffee oh my I use to hate coffee but that smell worked magic and I had my first of many cups of that brew. Then as you sat there thinking over the days adventures you realized the sun was slowly sinking and crickets and frogs were making there noises. Ahh the smells,sounds of evening in the mountains. Go home???? NEVER Now put up the food in that tree so the bears can't get it.
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Old 08-25-2012, 05:42 AM   #10
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For me it was smelt fishing at night with nets and lanterns!

It seemed like smelt fishing broke all of the rules in my young world, being up all night, carrying a lantern with real fire in it, splashing around in the water and with adults no less.

Then head home and have a breakfast of fried smelts.

Breakfast before going to bed!
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