A Fish Story...

rovingfisherman

Active Member
Lets hear some fish stories...could be anything. First experiences, blunders-mishaps, the old days, losses or successes, fishin with Dad. What do you got... Makes us laugh or cry.
 
Hooked By Karma-Kazi


It all started December 25th 1995, my sister (8years old) and I (5 years old) sitting next to the Christmas tree patiently waiting to open my presents. Ok who am I kidding we were bouncing off the walls by 6:30am. I wanted to know what Santa brought and I did not want to wait. My parents patiently went and made their morning coffee while we hung off their legs like little monkeys.



Finally it was time. We all grabbed a few gifts, sat down and one at a time and opened them. About fifteen minutes had passed and I was neck deep in sock, sweaters and other clothing garments. “Look behind the tree son there is one back there for you” my dad said with a grin. I grabbed it and tore the paper off before even reading who it was from. My first fishing rod, it was a six foot Canadian tire special. It was all my own and I would fish with it every time I went with dad! “Who’s it from?” my mom asked. “Dad” I responded thinking it could be no one else. “Nope, that’s from your Aunty Sheila and Uncle Frank”. My aunty and uncle don’t fish so I know my parents gave them a hint.



Just a few days later I had convinced my dad to take me to the little pond up the road and see if we could catch some trout. I had been there a few times and always watched the bobber to be sure dad didn’t miss any bites. He picked up some worms on the way home from work and we headed up to the lake to try out my new rod. Casting was all new to me. I seemed to be a pro shortly after some tips and pointers from dad. Not having to cast far as the big ones hide right close to shore in the lily pads. We both sat there on the stump watching our bobbers. Thinking back now the significance of that moment, and what fishing was going to mean to the relationship/friendship my father and I have.







“You got a bite dad quick”. He set the hook and reeled in his catch. A nice little 12 inch rainbow trout. Dad pulled it up on shore so I could have a look. “A nice one for dinner” he said. He grabbed a rock and gave it a smack on the head and stuck it in a plastic bag. Put a new worm on his hook and cast out his bobber a few miles past mine. We sat back down on the stump and waited patiently for the next nibble. Little did I know I was learning a lot of the character traits I have now, patience, persistence, and ethics.


Most of the time trout nibble and drag the bobber around a bit before getting hooked. Not this time. “Where is your bobber son”? “I don’t know” I climbed down from the stump and began to run to my rod to set the hook. As I approached the edge of the lake my rod began to bend and flipped right over the “V” notched stick holding it upright continuing into the lake and out of sight. My dad was standing there still and silent, not sure what to say next. It seemed as though time had stopped. That fish must have been huge! I’ve fished the lake hundreds of times since and never experienced anything like that again. All my rods have gone home with me. Most people I tell this to put it down to being a snapping turtle or a beaver. Try telling that to a six year old fisherman! Now I couldn’t even come close to describing the look on neither my face nor my fathers. I can however tell you that the feeling I felt deep down inside is the same feeling I still get every time I catch a big fish or loose one for that matter. That glowing warm adrenaline rush from head to toe that keeps you coming back rain or shine, river, lake or ocean. It’s in our blood it just takes that one initial experience get the ball rolling.




We arrived home just before dark with a three nice trout, the last two my dad let me bring in. I ran in the house to tell mom what happened and before I could say anything she said “You need to go call Aunty and thank her for the new fishing rod”. “But mom it’s gone!”…“What happened?” She yelled knowing my dad was within ears range. “A big fish took it into the lake and it’s gone”




Later that night I called my aunt and uncle to tell them the story about the big fish, oh yeah and to thank them for the rod. They were ok with what happened and said dad was going to buy me a new one as he would know what to buy so the fish don’t steal it next time.

That is the story of how I got “HOOKED”
 
The Sleebe
I have 2 younger brother's, being kid's back in the day we would call each other names ( gomer, geek etc.) The youngest he was probally 12 looked at one of my other brother's friends who was a little overweight, unkept and called him a Sleebe. We asked him what a sleebe was . It was a geek+ slob = Sleebe . Anyways we still fish together and still use that stupid name but with differn't meanning. Last week the 3 of us were flyfishing sooke flats together the middle brother was at the head of the run and hooking up more than me the other brother. As soon as he had to chase a fish down ,we of course moved into his spot. What a bunch of a^$%^ Sleebin his spot. So over the years we still use that stupid word between the 3 of us but it is fishing related. Grabbing the rod out of the downrigger first, moving into his spot on the river , trying to get the first cast in, Etc.

BROTHER"s
 
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