It occurred mostly at Lake Carlyle, Saskatchewan, Canada, about 100 miles north of where I lived in North Dakota.
I hated trolling from a slow-moving boat because it seemed nothing ever happened.
But I remember once when Dad and I and some others had been out much of a day fishing that way and catching nothing.
When we returned to shore at dusk, my dad went up the hill to the cabin we were staying at to fix us some kind of supper.
I stayed at the dock practicing my casting.
That is to say swinging the fishing rod and throwing the lure as far out into the lake as I could.
And what happened?
I caught a fish!
I hurried up the hill to show Dad and then went back to the dock to try again.
Before long I had caught three nice fish.
They were called Pickerel or Northern Pike but for some reason we usually called them "Jacks", short for Jackfish.
Good eating.
After I brought the third fish up to dad to clean and fry in a pan with some butter for our dinner he said "Stop! We have enough!"
I don't have a photo of that evening but this is one of me and my partner-in-crime, Jim, with a "mess of perch" we had caught, perhaps from that same dock.
Some times you would think you could practically reach down into the water and scoop them up.
Kind of like these . . the wily trout.
They're in a so-called "Show Pond" at the Page Springs Fish Hatchery.
The smaller fish are kept in tanks under canopies.
Ducks can always seem to find water and a few were in evidence at the show pond on the day we visited.
I've never fly-fished but I suspect the trout would be too cautious for my impatient younger self.
Maybe it's just as well that I can find pleasure with simply gazing at them.
The hatchery is ideally located just across the road from a winery and within walking distance of two more!
If you are so inclined, you may read more about the hatchery here.
One day while fishing with my judge grandfather, he brought up the fact I was stealing cigarettes from my Mom. He said, "if you're going to smoke, you need to smoke like a man." He took a cigar out of his pocket, trimmed and lit it. He handed me one, he walked me through the process and made the 13 year old me smoke the whole damn thing. I didn't smoke again until I was in college. When I occasionally smoke a cigar today, I still use his lessons and I always get a smile on my face when I think of that day in the boat. That's my fishing story for today. And thanks for yours. You're lucky you didn't choke on the bones in those pike.
ReplyDeleteGreat story. I fished as a kid and didn't quit until about 20 years ago. Just got tired of it and all of the German rules.
ReplyDeleteSteve
My mom and dad retired to a home on the Chesapeake Bay, a creek off the bay actually. We caught lots o perch off the dock with small lures. I grew tired of it by the time I was 55...actually the house was sold, I'd still fish from that dock if I could.
ReplyDeleteI never enjoyed fishing as a kid because I always caught the biggest fish and I never wanted to kill it, so my brother killed it.
ReplyDeleteThe greatest gift my dad gave me was the love of the outdoors especially fishing. We went full circle..when I was a kid he would bait my hook with a worm..his last couple of visits to our house in Florida I would bait his hook with a shrimp while sharing great memories of our times together on the water.
ReplyDeleteThe greatest gift my dad gave me was the love of the outdoors especially fishing. We went full circle..when I was a kid he would bait my hook with a worm..his last couple of visits to our house in Florida I would bait his hook with a shrimp while sharing great memories of our times together on the water.
ReplyDeleteThat's quite a "fish story!" The kid saves the day-make that dinner.
ReplyDeleteI have so many fond memories of the times we spent together at Carlyle Lake. My family spent many hours out in the boat, and it always frustrated my dad that mother usually caught the largest and the most fish. Dad taught me to clean fish efficiently and mother could cook the best fried perch. The way dad cleaned them they could be deboned easily after cooking. Speaking of mother, she probably gave me that haircut. I can remember trying to sit patiently while she used hand clippers to cut my hair. It was impossible for her to use them without a little jerk that really hurt. I think the results showed how patient I could be. Oh, yes, I really hated those glasses, too!
ReplyDelete