Thursday, July 7, 2011

How it all began..

I started this blog a few months back, and have spent a lot of time talking products and techniques, but I have shared little information about me personally. So i though I would spend some time today to cover a few 

I have three people that I can blame for my addiction to fishing. My Father, my Step Father and my Grandfather. All of them each effected my love of fishing in a different way.

My Grandfather has been retired since I was three years old, and since he was not one to take it easy, he always had jobs he liked to do. One of those jobs was to run a boy scout camp. Each summer I would get time to go and stay with him at the camp. He was not much of a fisherman but he always made sure we had everything we needed to spend the day fishing, Wether is was bobbers and worms from the dock out back, or carting us by boat to various hot spots. He always made it easy for us by having access to water and unlimited amount of free time I was able to fish all day long, all summer long

My Step-father is also not much of a fisherman. He owns a rod and reel, but the only time I have seen it in his hands was when I was a child and he was carting me off to various fishing derby's. He made sure me and my friends could always attend these derby's that were usually held out of town. It allowed us to have a great time and grew the competitive side of my fishing. For a man who is always active and like to keep moving it must have been hard for him to stand around for hours on end to watch us cast (and catch very little). To this day I appreciate the fact that he was willing to there for us

Out of the 3, My Father was the biggest influence. He loves to fish. My parents separated when I was only 4 years old (so 27 years ago) He never had much money, and when it was his weekend to look after my sister and I, the one thing he could afford was a couple dozen worms. 

The weekend always started with a trip to the coffee shop where he would grab the morning coffee (a donut for us) and then it was off to the bait shop. We were worm fisherman, a bobber, a hook and a worm was all we needed to keep us occupied for a large part of the day.

My Dad found this cool little fishing hole, just off the main road. It was an old railway bridge with a back bay that comes off the Ottanabee river. It was a pan fishermans dream, with deep pockets and small clumps of weeds everywhere.  We caught everything from perch & gills, to bass, carp and mudcats. We even managed the occasional frog and turtle. 

My first ever fishing tale grew from this very spot. My father and I watched as a couple fisherman using bobbers and frogs fought a monster bass that eventually snapped their line above the bobber. We watched as the bobber floated away, only to turn around and head back up stream, the fisherman threw everything at it, finally snagging the bobber and pulling in the 5lb largemouth that had snapped them off only minutes earlier. I have been telling that story so long now, I don't even remember how much of it is true anymore.. but it is part of my fishing heritage and part of what makes me me

I have hundreds of great memories of this area, and to this day spend time each season fishing this exact spot . Things have changed and this once run down rail way bridge is now a running and bike path that is constantly in use by sport enthusiasts and family's alike. My private childhood fishing hole is no more.. but it still draws my back and I can take a look around and know.. this is where it all began

1 comment:

  1. Another great Post! Although my roots in fishing were very different, I share a common theme as father didn't fish, but took the time to take me fishing now and then.