The Journey to Here

Shoal Creek in Southwest Missouri. A cane pole. Grandad telling Dad what “Troy” said or did. And crappie. It’s been a lot of years since, so I don’t remember the order of my fishing adventures as a child. But since I have photo documentation of my son fishing at a “high level” before he was five, I’ll assume I was probably about that age my first trip to Shoal Creek.

As I deep dive my memories of fishing and can’t recall in many instances, “the fish”, the methods, or the gear, I’m realizing that it wasn’t so much “the fishing” as it was everything associated with it.

I could be worn out from a day of play at my (other) Grandad’s farm and if a night catfishing trip was suddenly on, I had more energy than a firecracker. I remember catching catfish. I remember a catfish biting the head off a mouse as clean as a guillotine would claim it. But mice used as bait is what I remember most. Specifically, my Uncle Jim placing a large metal tub over mouse holes in the farm yard, baited with grain under the tub. Some commotion later and he’d have some mice for catfishing. Again, and some more mice. Uncle Jim teased my brother and I a lot. Had I not actually watched him do this, as I think about it now I’d probably think he was just telling us a story.

I remember the clear, cool running water of Spring River, Baxter Springs, Kansas. Dad would trout fish. I don’t recall trout fishing, so I was probably enjoying everything else as I mentioned, associated with fishing.

Third grade? Or was it fifth grade? It was late spring. School was about to dismiss for the summer. We were going to have a class picnic. I don’t recall being overly excited about the day outdoors with my classmates. Until I found out that it included the option to fish, as well. I clearly remember being so excited with the anticipation of fishing the next day that I didn’t sleep well the night before. And fish, I did! I don’t remember even eating, though I’m sure a teacher or chaperone made sure I did.

I thought that I took several long breaks during life, from fishing. But I’ve realized in my elder years that I thought fishing was just a part of everyday life. If I attended an outdoor event and water was near, I was supposed to fish it. If I rode or drove over water I was supposed to stop and fish it. At least make a mental note to go back and fish it. If I traveled and even afar, as long as it wasn’t a desert I was supposed to find the water…and fish it! And I did. Japan is a mere island, so fishing the Japan Sea was simply a matter of how few kilometers I wanted to go north, south, east or west to fish! Again, I thought I took several breaks from fishing during my life. But in fact, I’d get distracted with…life…and after a few years realized I was living in a way that made fishing difficult. So I’d change life and get back to fishing being part of, everyday life!

My first return to a proper life was during my teen years. Lane Springs became a second home to me. As I recall, it was actually where me and some friends climbed cliffs, crawled into caves that we could’ve easily gotten stuck-definitely not fare for the claustrophobic. And otherwise was probably up to no good at the springs. Did I mention it was a great place to take dates who possessed even a touch of outdoor spirit? OK…I was up to no good. But fishing was always…part of the Lane Springs experience. And this is the first period of a fishing life, that you’ll read some future stories.

That morphed into a deeper infatuation with the deep woods and the remote waters of the Current River area, when I met a girl who lived deep enough in those woods and near the river that her family was ate up with everything outdoors. They even had the likes of “The Dillards”, and other well known musicians visit their home but then, her Dad was a musician by hobby. Those years are where I truly cut my teeth on hardcore trout fishing, getting my first fly rod that late in life at about 20 years old. She and I would hike in to remote spots on that river and camp/fish/hunt 2-3 days at a time and for our annual one or two week vacations. Any season of the year. Some great stories coming…

Another hiccup in life and I realized again, that I’d better get back to a “life that fishes”. And I did! All in-head neck, feet, and dragging a few other bodies.

Hello bass boats, sponsors, and the professional bass tournament circuits! Things were a bit different in the 80’s to be considered a professional tournament angler. Did you make money fishing? (Didn’t matter if you actually made a profit.) Did you do more than “weekend angling”? Did you have sponsors? Well “hello”! You’re a pro! Today, it’s pretty well accepted that a profit being realized from fishing and that being an essential part of your income, is a requirement. Sponsors? Only in the sense that the most important thing you can do is to be an influencer-especially YouTube-to influence others to purchase from what used to be sponsors. Even in the 80’s, the pressures were a bit much. Especially fishing lakes you’d have probably never fished or wanted to fish, in places you may have not cared to go. But what the heck-that’s what’s called “adventure”, in life. Being forced to get off the couch and get out of your comfort zone. A lot of stories will be pulled out of and expanded from this, the professional fishing world…

…Including a special story about my son’s participation with the pros. Beginning age four-there’s a story

you don’t want to miss!

After about 10 years hobnobbing with the pros I suddenly found myself burnt, spent, and probably broke if I would remember every reason why I put fishing out of my mind, for awhile. But of course, it crept back into me like a incurable disease.

Decision time. Managing “head to feet in” fishing again was going to be a little more difficult each year, with age. Moving to my #1 retirement choice-Stockton Lake-would still involve managing, and the expense of , a boat. A couple other considerations added to the equation and I moved near a vast layout of primarily lakes, all designed and rules written to be fished from the bank only, with a few exceptions. I prepared my mind for “…Meh…” fishing. But in fact, bank fishing these waters I’ve caught my personal best: 1. Rainbow trout 2. Crappie and then “bested” that crappie several times, 3. Bluegill and then personal bested that several times, 4. and Master Angler qualifying red ear. A southern species believe it or not that I wasn’t aware of though I fished southern waters all the way to the delta swamps of Louisiana for 10 years. Not only do these remote hike around (for good fishing) lakes via some pretty extreme physical feats keep an aging dude young, but they’ve already produced enough stories to fill this blog another 60 years. So…

…check in now and then! I’ll take the risks! You enjoy the reads!

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