Maybe it’s COVID, maybe it is because it’s the middle of winter and I’m chomping at the bit to go fishing…I’m not sure. But I find myself deep in contemplation lately, reminiscing if you will.
I would be remiss if I didn’t give a shout out to my Dad. He was the driving force who got me into fishing…whether I liked it or not. In some ways I think he just needed a “first mate” to handle all of the little things on the boat that needed doing. But in other ways I could tell he enjoyed it tremendously and wanted to open up that world to me. I’m glad he did.
I remember the hours of casting practice in the front yard. Casting a hookless plug into a 5 gallon bucket until I could do it 10 times in a row. No mean feat when using a Zebco 33 on a limp noodle rod. I remember being woken up at 3am and handed a cold glass of milk and told to drink it. Standing like a zombie in the kitchen making cheese and mayonnaise sandwiches for the day. That’s ALL we ate while fishing. Throw in a Mason jar of iced tea and one of water and we were on our way.
I remember my Dad up front in the boat, casting away with his brand new Shimano Calcutta while I’m in the back with a squeaky 33 performing surgery on it just to keep it running, hoping one day for an upgrade to something better. The Oklahoma heat was so bad that it would melt whatever glue they attached the rubber grip to the rod with. Sometimes I really thought about just casting it over the side and being done with it once and for all. Maybe then I could get an upgrade.
I remember swearing in front of my father for the first time. I had hooked a monster bass off of a rocky point and it was too much for me to handle. I handed him the rod and the beast spit the hook. That swear word is still echoing across the lake. And I knew I was DEAD! Nope, he said “that was a really nice fish”, ignored my faux pas, and went straight back to fishing. That was my Dad at his finest…all business. Years later on a trip to Canada, we were sitting around the fire late in the evening and that moment came up. He professed such deep sorrow for losing that fish…he had carried that guilt for decades. A good man right there.
We fished together for years and I loved every minute of it. Wish we could still fish together in fact. But he lives in Canada and I’m here in Oklahoma. Age has taken his ability to fish but his mind is sharp as ever. Life happens.
Anyway, I’ll raise my glass and thank him…Love You Pop!
di-chot-o-my —n. A division into two contrasting things or parts.
That pretty much sums up fishing!
We go fishing to relax yet end up working our tails off. We go fishing to catch a bunch only to end up getting skunked. We gear up to go catch a trophy and only catch dinks. We praise the Heaven’s when we catch a stump donkey yet turn right around and curse Creation when a tail-walker spits the hook. THAT’S the reality of fishing…period.
I think the only way we balance “the equation” is by holding onto our sense of humor. If you fish with me you’ll hear a lot of laughter…and cursing…but mostly laughter. If we look at the difference between brain sizes of fish compared to humans it truly is comical. But how many times has “pea brain” handed you your ego? So laugh…its OK to laugh. It sure beats crying! Or getting the dreaded “middle fin!”
I go fishing with ZERO expectations. I just roll with it and see what things look like at the end of the day. It makes things a lot easier on me. Try it
Back in the early 90’s I had completed my military service and had enrolled in college. I was working 3 part-time jobs trying to keep my head above water. One of the jobs was working in the fishing department of a local outdoor store. The Manager of that department was a man named Frank. The guy was a Fisherman’s fisherman! He was the consummate angler we all wished we were like. His entire life revolved around fishing.
Frank never wore nice clothes…ever. Half the time I think he lived out of his car…which was a rolling tackle box. He was a man of few words but knew his craft. The sacrifices he made were enormous and few people understood him at all. I don’t think he ever pondered the meaning of life while sitting around a fire chatting with friends. Rather, I think he sat on a river bank all night by himself only thinking about fishing.
Frank taught me a lot. And I mean A LOT. He sold me my first “good” rods and reels ( the Shimano TX spinning reels and matching rods) if that says anything. I was on a tight budget and so was he. He knew exactly what it took to get the job done. I still have those reels in my display case.
When you’re trying to get established in life and move up in the world, its easy to dismiss people like Frank. Most people did, they thought he was odd, and he was in a way. He always wore a smirk…I think he knew what everyone else was missing and was OK with that. Looking back after all these years…I think he was a genius! For those who like to fish as much as I do, I sometimes lament the path I took which required way too much work and not enough fishing time. Frank lived the dream, or at least his dream.
Frank will probably never see this blog post. But if he does I’d like to tell him Thank You and I hope you are doing well and still living the dream!
I’m not sure that I should be writing this, in fact, I tried to get her to do a guest post but she declined.
Her frustrations revolve around the availability of fishing goods and apparel specifically for women. Or should I say, “mature women.” She’s not a fan of “pink it and shrink it” that so many gear manufacturers do. It comes across as a lame and half-hearted attempt to appease women. She is technically proficient at fishing. She KNOWS what she’s doing and KNOWS what she wants when it comes to gear and apparel.
She has class, poise and grace! That usually comes with age. “Booty shorts” and “low cut tops” are not her thing. She wants form and function…NOT FASHION. She completely understands the economics of fishing. She knows that the majority of humans live along a coastline. She “gets” it! Pink, Yellow, Turquoise etc etc do not blend in to the areas we fish. Muted, soft, earth tones do. That’s what she wants…that’s what she can’t really find.
Make no mistake about it…she has a discerning eye and knows what she likes. She’s not a fan of wearing Men’s stuff as it doesn’t really fit. (NOTE: Me…waders are not sexy, never have been, never will be.)
Admittedly, some manufacturers are getting the picture and starting to take women seriously. All I can say is…ABOUT TIME. I’d bet a paycheck that there are women out there just like my wife…wanting quality gear for mature women and not having to buy it at the “Victoria’s Secret Women’s Fishing Department!” End of Proxy Rant.
This blog post approved by Mrs. Velox Seeker….. : )
Why do I say that? Because I am married to a beautiful woman who loves fishing as much as I do! We plan trips together, research gear together and shop for gear together. I admit…it’s kind of weird buying two of everything, but hey, it’s worth it.
The trust level we have in each other is amazing. When I wander around the next bend leaving her behind, she knows I’ll either return or will be waiting for her. Usually I’ll scout out a riffle or pool, make a cast or two and wait for her so she gets a shot. If there is a tricky river crossing she knows I’ll stop and help her across. Her comfort level at stream crossings isn’t the same as mine.
Above all, she is patient with me. I am not a great teacher and she knows that. She also knows how to ask the right questions to get the answers she needs. Many times I stop just to watch HER fish. Offer up words of encouragement or pointing out prime spots for her to cast to. And for the record…she caught the biggest Velox I have ever seen (a little over the 3lb mark-a real trophy for these waters). The smile on her face was worth more to me than the fish! Needless to say, there’s a framed picture of the moment hanging on the wall.
Imagine fishing several miles of river…just two people who deeply love each other, not another soul within miles, in-tune with each other, laughing together, immersed in the moment and focused on each other and knowing that nothing else matters at that point in time.
So yes…I consider myself a lucky man.
I’m not going to “wax poetic” on the topic. But I fish for several reasons. Simply put…I ENJOY it. But it goes deeper than that for myself and I’m sure for almost everyone else.
I enjoy figuring out “THE PUZZLE”. Where they are, what depth, what speed, what color etc etc. It is truly a multifaceted sport. I am not in it for the pictures, in fact, most fish are released immediately. To me, getting set up to take the perfect picture ruins the experience. Not to mention that to me, it seems as if the pictures I take do not compare to what the human eye takes in. It seems too contrived and catapults the fish into a “status” rather than where it belongs…as a worthy adversary that demands respect.
I remember an old saying…”no man fishes the same river twice” and likewise, “no man catches the same fish twice”. Or at least that’s how I see it. Time waits for no man and more and more I find myself slowing things down. Focusing on the fishing and tuning out the mundane things in life that are nagging and ever-present. It’s a nice break from reality really.
I find that the location is equally as important to me. I mainly fish in places that aren’t saturated with people and takes a lot of effort to get to. No cell phone reception is a HUGE bonus. My trips to Canada entail lots of paddling and portaging to get to where I want to camp and fish. The less people the better. I used to carry an axe to chop firewood but found that the noise that the axe made disturbed the silence I was in, some unknown violation of Wilderness Sanctity. I switched to a saw just to be less obtrusive in my environment. It’s about the entire experience, not just the fish.
Perhaps that’s why I am drawn to JDM gear? Maybe they “get it”. They know that quality supersedes quantity everytime. It’s the experience and the reverence for the quarry that combine to make lasting memories…or maybe I just think too much…”Fish Reverence”…is that a thing?
In July of 2019, the wife and I were fishing a particular stretch of river when we saw 2 kayakers coming downstream. They made a beeline straight for us and I told the wife to get her license handy. Instead of game wardens, they turned out to be wildlife biologist research students. After some small talk they asked if we would be willing to participate in a survey. (Note: most fisherman I know are tight-lipped and WILL NOT participate) We agreed and had a lengthy 45 minute question and answer period. It was a great interaction and they shared a lot of information. I would highly recommend interacting we these folks as the learning process goes BOTH ways.
A few weeks later, an official and lengthy survey arrived in the mail. I filled it out and voiced my complete OBJECTION to allowing other strains of smallmouth to be introduced into this watershed. Bass fishing is huge in Oklahoma and there seems to be some sort of tournament on the lakes weekly/monthly. I know there’s big money involved and I’m not knocking tournament anglers (I’ve fished tournaments) but why can’t we leave this watershed unspoiled?
I am not a hardcore environmentalist but I do believe in clean water and clean air and I’d prefer to see this watershed LEFT AS IS. Why do you think I try to leave my fishing waters cleaner than when I arrived? For others, our kids and grandkids!!!
BONUS: Those two research students gave me information that allowed me to open up about 8-10 more miles of river to fish! WELL worth the interaction and sharing of information.