Yep, thats me, circa 1990, at one of my favourite (secret) bass holes. I came across this photo while flipping through one of my Dad's old photo albums a few weeks back. It made me laugh, but not quite as much as the below pic of him ( I dont know whats worse, the hat, shirt or the hair... nope it's the hair)
My parents separated early in my life, and my Dad not one to have an abundance of money spent his weekend time with us at one of a few easily accessed fishing holes. We would be up early on a Saturday morning, stop for a coffee, and a couple dozen worms and then off we would go. The day would be spent casting from shore and targeting pretty much anything that would bite.. perch, sunfish and of course bass. To this day I still point to these outings as one of the main reasons that Im "fishing crazy" to this day.
Both of the Fishing Holes pictured in the journal are drastically different today. The above photos where taken at a bass hole along an old dirt farmer road. Today that road is nearly impassable, the last time I swung by for a nostalgic look back I had to park the car and hike the mile in one foot. Time and teenagers have not been kind to this spot, but to this day I still have the urge to head down and fish
Below is an area I highlighted in one of my very early blog entries (HERE). It was an old unused train bridge and the area was loaded with fish. Today the city has taken it over and turned it into a beautiful hiking/walking/bike trail. The fishing has died-off and although I still stop in once a summer I havent caught a fish there in years.
All this flipping through photo albums has be very nostalgic, so on a seperate visit I spent some time rummaging through the garage where I happened upon some very exciting finds, that I though woudl pair well with the theme of this article
The first item that jumped out at me was my first ever tackle box. A Woodsman Canada "fisher kid" kit. I still remember it like yesterday, this tiny little box came with hooks, bobbers, snap swivels and even a rope style stringer. I used that box for years traveling back and forth to the Trout pond just minuted from my backyard.
When moving the box to take the above picture I noticed that it was resting on another familair tackle box.. my Grandfathers. He and I had spent some time fishing together during many a summer while he ran a Boy Scout camp in Halliburton, Ontario. In my younger years he and my step father were both tasked with following me down to the pond while I fished for hours.
After finding his tackle box I then began to search for his old rod, as I knew the two would be close together. That bright green from his Johnson Century Model 100A was hard to mis. Not used in ears it was still strung up, and I half expected to see a dried up worm on the hook.
I dont have many pictures of myself fishing with my grandfather, but one I do have goes along with a great memory. The below image was taken during my first ever Salmon fishing trip. My grandfather and his friends arrange the trip but when one buddy fell sick they had an opening and invite this 15 year old rookie along.
The weather and fish did not co-operate, and with only one hour left in our day we officially hooked our first fish. To my surprise all the men on the boat pushed me forward to fight the fish (Me, the only one who did not pay to be there) and nearly 30 minutes later, I landed my first and to this day biggest salmon at just over 28lbs. (Thats my grandfather in the White hat)
I know this was a bit wordy for a "photo journal" but I hope you enjoyed this look back into the fishing past of a certified bass junky
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