The Student Becomes the Master

I didn’t grow up fishing. I was exposed to it as an adult while I was an acquaintance’s private farm pond. We were up to the normal shenanigans one finds at hidden spots such as this on warm summer evenings in the Midwest when someone handed me a rod and said, “Hey, why don’t you give it a try?” So I did.

What really got me hooked (pun intended) was seeing that bobber twitch for the first time. I got excited and hoped it would happen again. It was that mystery of the unknown that really got me. The problem was I knew nothing about fishing and I had no gear.

I knew this little bait shop near where I worked so I stopped in one day to check out their selection of fishing poles. I wandered around the narrow isles lost in a world of brightly colored items that looked like crazy jewelry. Finally I asked the shop owner what kind of pole I should get. His cantankerous response was, “Well… that depends on what you are fishing for.”

I learned quickly this was a common answer for a somewhat silly question. I had an urge to fish and I was in desperate need of equipment to satisfy this urge. Fortunately I discovered someone at work who fished. I started to pick his brain before, during, and after work. I couldn’t get enough information!

I believed most of his advice was reliable, although I to this day have never tried using bubble gum as bait. In addition to this mentorship, through the years I have sought out the advice of several fisherman in an attempt to increase the rate of my catches. I have also read countless books and magazines; as well as spent hours and hours watching fishing videos.

Then one day last week someone came into my area at work and asked, “Hey, does anyone know if you can fish in the lake out back?” One of my co-workers pointed to me and said, “Ask him, he’s the expert on fishing.” I was honored to spend a few minutes, much to the dismay of my supervisor, sharing my joy of angling to this bright-eyed young fellow.

Things had come full circle and I was the one now doing the teaching. It’s funny how life works that way. As he was headed towards the bank he turned and smiled saying, “Thanks for the advice.... and for the gum.”

If It’s Too Good to Be True, It Probably Is

I am always keeping my eye out for potential fishing spots no matter where I am, and recently I noticed a nice looking spot on my way to work. It is near a local park that I frequent on my mountain bike. Sure enough, after studying maps and satellite images I confirmed it is actually part of the park.

I estimate the size of this pond may be 1 acre, which is sufficient to hold some decent bass and bluegills. So I figured I would go check it out one night right about sunset. My plan was to hit the water about the time the bugs would be setting in and the fish would be busting the surface.

When I arrived at the trail head I was surprised there were no signs condoning or condemning anglers, so without hesitation I grabbed my rods and tackle box. It was probably half a mile hike from the car through some beautiful flat land peppered with pine and spruce trees.

Typically good fishing holes are littered with bait containers and the grass is all trampled down.This was not the case. In fact I was amazed at how pristine this area was. I felt as if I was the first person to have ever set eyes on this place. This meant either there were no fish or I wasn’t supposed to be there. Either way, I was a bit anxious about the situation.

Having cut my teeth on a mossy farm pond, I knew to bring a rod rigged with something that wouldn’t get hung up in the moss. I tossed my Texas-rigged bass-colored creature out and started dragging it across the mat of moss. As I worked my way around the pond I noticed there was absolutely no signs of any fish.

After about 20 minutes I gave up and started my hike back to the truck. I wanted to get out of there as quickly and inconspicuously as possible just in case I was up to something illegal. Too stubborn to give up on a good thing, I gave a call to the local conservation office. Not to give myself away, I played dumb and didn’t let on that I had already been there.

My suspicions were confirmed, this was simply a wetland and there were no fish in that body of water. Even though the fishing was a dead end, I still enjoyed the walk in God’s country on a spectacular spring evening. The lesson to be learned here is that even though things aren’t always what they appear, you still can enjoy the ride.