Following the Master Fisherman

It has been ten years since this fisherman put his pen to the paper and the night would be well aged with many stouts in the telling of the tales and adventures which he has seen. Friends have come, friends have gone, and children have grown. The Current has taken him through some wild rapids, good runs, and now to a calm pool of the clearest water which could not be surpassed on God’s good earth.  

I have a new partner in crime, and I have not yet subjected her to the madness that inflicts many a men – mindlessly fidgeting at water’s edge with glittery gadgets in an attempt to outsmart a creature with the brain the size of a peanut. No, this ol’ fisherman’s waders and vest are gathering dust in the garage and have been traded for gardening gloves, a rake, and shovel. No mourning shall be shed at this loss as I admit that while I may protest the work I don’t actually mind it all that much… after all, she’s pretty sweet on me and I on her.  

Upon return to this dusty journal, with its torn and weathered pages, I began to reacquaint myself with the musings of my past. One entry in particular caught my attention – one in which I asked myself the question, “What does it mean to be thirsty?” At the time my answer went something like this: 

“Many times it isn’t just our bodies that need replenishment, our souls need to be fueled as well. When I am fishing I enter a frame of mind in which there is no time and space and the worries of everyday life disappear… what I am really after is that moment of peace when angler and nature merge into one and time stands still.  This is what replenishes my soul, this... is what I thirst for.”

It occurred to me that I now see the world through a wildly different pair of spectacles. For as I descended the mountains and cut the valleys which brought me to where I rest today, I heard many a wonderful tale. One such story happened a long time ago, about a man you may have heard of, Jesus.  

This story takes place on the outskirts of a little town where there stood a well. On this particular day, the air had a sultry feel and the sun was at its peak, radiating a heat so vivid that the strongest of men could not help but recoil. 

It was here by the well that Jesus sat resting as a woman was filling her jars with water for the day. He told this downhearted woman that the water she was drinking would always leave her thirsty, and that if she drank His water she wouldn’t be thirsty anymore. She believed and while skipping away shouted the Good News to all who would listen.

I happen to like Jesus, you see He was fond of fishermen. In fact, his right hand man was one. As I eluded to before, we aren’t the sharpest hooks in the tackle box. Sometimes we don’t listen too well - we don’t do what we’ve been told to do and we do what we’ve been told not to do. 

Maybe it’s because we’re thirsty. Maybe we’ve been drinkin’ too much of that barely water. I don’t know, but for some reason in spite of the tangled mess of crankbaits we are, He still calls us to get in the boat.

I don’t miss my time in pursuit of that state record largemouth because like Simon Peter – whose tales I will save for another visit - I have been called to be a fisher of men.  Fishing alongside the Master has changed me - I no longer seek to quench my thirst by the same waters where I used to wander. It is in Him that I find relief. 

Well, the clock has run long and my reunion with you dear friend must come to an end. I do promise in the not so distant future to return, Amen Ale in hand, to this fishin’ hole where we can find joy in each other’s company again. God Bless!!!

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No generative artificial intelligence (AI) was used in the writing of this work.

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.

Adapting to the Current

This is a follow up to last week’s post about change. The mention of the word usually makes me cringe, but I have had a lot of exposure to change lately and my tolerance to it is improving. In fact, my new surroundings have catapulted my fishing in new and exciting directions.

Lately I have been scouting out several different spots, looking for that perfect hideaway that holds fish but not the attention of other fisherman. This means I have to get off the beaten path. This also means I will most likely sacrifice size and quantity of fish, but that’s ok. I am happy to get a line in the water!

After a couple of unsuccessful outings I went back to the drawing board and developed a new plan. I emptied all of my trout tackle out of my fishing vest and replaced it with all of my micro-bass tackle. The goal: stream fishing for smallmouth bass.

To reach these smallies one must get out into the water. Thankfully this April evening was rather warm, so the cold clear water felt refreshing as I waded up stream. This trip was part fishing and part reconnaissance. I was fortunate to have caught one little feller and spooked a decent looking fish out of its hole while I was retrieving a hung-up lure.

Having caught one fish, I consider the night a success. I saw several others and got to know the structure of this particular stretch. There are several holes with laydowns that are perfect hiding spots for the ol’ bronze backs. I am certain I will be revisiting this stream in the very near future.

Through the years I have learned that the best fisherman are those who can adapt to the changing conditions. Those who are persistent, think outside of the box, and use their intuition are those who find success. All too often anglers seldom stray from their favorite lures and wait for the conditions to be right. Life has made sure in this case, that I am not one of those men.

So I adapt to the changing current. Just as I learned the riprap and sandy water of the Cedar, I am learning the rapids, runs, and holes of the Indian. It all takes patience and practice just like anything else. Fishing, like life, is a journey. It is in the journey that I find satisfaction.

Sometimes Change Just Happens

Change is one of those things that I am not very fond of. Unfortunately change sometimes just finds us and there is nothing we can do but make the best of it. Well, change found me recently and I no longer live among the rolling fields and herds of deer.

A few months ago I relocated to a somewhat urban area where I currently share the same vertical space with some quiet neighbors. I am thankful for the fact that they are quiet. The one exception being the gentleman above me who is a lumberjack by night.

Fortunately, the metropolis that is my new home was built around the same river I have been bothering for the past 16 years. I am happy to have found several parks that very much resemble my former home, and this has eased the transition considerably.

With change comes the need to adapt. Circumstances are such that I will be bank-bound for a while, so I have been scouting out some nearby streams. Rumor has it that one of them in particular has some good smallmouth fishing.

So for the time being, I will be putting my medium weight baitcasting rod down for my ultra-light spinning rod. I even plan to break out the fly rod and waders in the near future. I once went fly fishing for trout in the Driftless Area streams a few years ago and am anxious to try that type of fishing again.

Just like the river, our lives are always changing whether we like it or not. One thing is for sure, change takes us in a new direction and challenges us. Who knows? You might find new opportunities that you had never even thought were possible.

Cell Phone Separation Anxiety

It has been a while since this thirsty fisherman has done any writing. That’s because this thirsty fisherman has been too busy to get into any trouble. Thankfully tonight changed that. I finally got a free night where the weather wasn’t too hot, too windy, or raining.

As soon as I got home from work I changed my clothes, grabbed my gear, and hopped into my old truck. Halfway to my favorite fishin’ hole I realized I forgot my phone. A wave of panic fell over me.

“What am I going to do without my phone?” I thought to myself.

Then I remembered… I am going fishing! Fishing is what I do to get away from the world, and the last thing I want is a phone buzzing in my pocket.

In this world we live in we think we need to be connected 24 hours a day, 7 days a week… but what is it that we are connecting to? The world isn’t going to end if I miss an hour’s worth of Facebook updates.

I say that as if I can actually check Facebook on my phone. I can’t because I happen to prefer vintage cell phones… but that is beside the point.

If someone calls and it is important, they will leave a message. If it wasn’t important… well then I am probably better off having missed the call.

Yes, a phone would be nice for the day my rusty old 4x4 doesn’t start… when I am in the middle of nowhere with a stringer full of ‘gills. But then again, the walk could do me some good… especially the way I got so excited about my new pants with elastic in the waist.

So I offer you this challenge: next time you head outdoors leave your phone behind… you just might find you enjoy the connection to world around you.

Don't Let Small Waters Stunt Your Growth

I just got back from one of my favorite fishin’ holes: a 1 acre farm pond a few miles down the road from my place. It’s a great place to fish because not many people know of it and there is almost no fishing pressure. There is nothing I like better than to sneak away and enjoy the silence of pursuing largemouth bass on a Sunday evening.

This body of water isn’t what it used to be though… At one time there were lots of bluegills to keep the bass population in balance. These fish are no longer present and the bass population has exploded. Weather has also been a factor: we have had a couple of hot and dry summers followed by one of the longest and coldest winters I can remember. All of these factors have been detrimental to the health of the fish.

In its heyday it was common to catch several keeper-size fish in an afternoon, some of which were very respectable. The lack of proper management has made these fish a thing of the past. Lately I have caught mostly fish of mediocre size which often appear stressed. There simply isn’t enough room in this pond for the bass to grow the way they should.

If you took a fish from my favorite pond and put it into a 43,000 acre lake it could very well grow to be the fish that is talked about for generations. Take Table Rock Lake for example… This lake is legendary for fish that are worthy of residing in Texas. Large fisheries like these are monitored by biologists and maintained by fishermen to keep fish populations in check.

It is amazing how much we can learn about our own lives by looking to nature… This same phenomenon happens with people. When constricted we are not able to reach our full potential, but when given room to grow and proper guidance it is amazing what can be achieved. So get out there and use what you learned in the farm pond to get you out in the big water!