In his twenties, my father was an avid sportsman. He would hunt in Michigan's upper peninsula. Using an an old, rundown, travel trailer for base camp.
I never heard what had happened to the hunting camp or the trailer. I suspect it may have been left on
My father also loved to go fishing. He would go fishing for anything; fishing for salmon with a hook to smelt dipping with a net. If we had lived in southern California, I'm sure, he would have walked the beaches at midnight when the grunion were running.
He had several tackle boxes filled with various sized lures, jigheads, hooks, sinkers, leaders. ect. A dozen fishing poles from a cane pole to a deep water rod and reel. He had a hand held ice fishing paddle, nothing more than twenty yards of fishing line wrapped around a rectangular piece of wood. Many far north tribes fish this way with very light (2 lb.) fishing line. Fish don't have much fight when they are cold. Just wrap the line once around your finger and wait for the tug. Then just pull the line up by hand wrapping it around the piece of wood as you go.
Like many sportsman, he tried get his wife (my mother) involved in the hopes she would love doing these things also. She didn't. Like many spouses at that time, she had no interest in the outdoor lifestyle. Then my brothers and I came along.
My oldest brother will talk about going fishing with my dad, for salmon and other large game fish. By the time I came along, ten years later, dad was in his thirties and slowing down. No more wading into a cold river for salmon or trolling for walleye (I never caught a walleye until I was fifty-three).We went after panfish, primarily perch. Although we did occasionally catch a rock bass or bluegill.
Dad would wake my middle brother and I at 4:30 am (by this time my oldest brother had flown the coop), so we could get to Anchor Bay before sunrise. Anchor Bay was the northeast section of Lake St Clair near Detroit. When we arrived at the bait shop/boat launch, dad would buy three dozen shiny minnows and two dozen fat nightcrawlers.
We usually went fishing in the late summer and early fall. The reason being that the boat launch was in a canal and lake access was under a small road overpass. We had gone fishing one time in the spring. We almost didn't make it out of the canal. A combination of winter runoff and morning high tide made it near impossible to get under the bridge and into the lake. We made it but just barely.
These rigs known as crappie, perch or panfish rigs, were made to be dropped to the bottom using a lead weight called a sinker. Then you would hold the line taught so you could feel a fish hit (bite) the bait. AA slight jerk and the fish would be on the hook ready to be reeled in.
Dad would hook his minnows through the back. I would cut off a two inch piece of worm and thread it onto my hooks with a small piece hanging off the end.
We would stay on the lake from 6 am to 4 pm. Mom made us sandwiches and dad would buy some pop and candy bars at the bait shop. If we were hungry we ate a sandwich or a candy bar.
On an average day I would catch a dozen fish. Several big enough to keep. If my dad caught half a dozen it was a great day. I'm not trying to say I was a better fisherman. We just had two different fishing styles. I would constantly bounce my sinker on the bottom causing my bait to move up and down (later I would find out this was called 'jigging').
My dad would bait his hooks, drop them down to the bottom, set his rod and reel down on the boat with the tip hanging over the side. Then, he would adjust the boat seat so he could lay back and pull his fishing cap down to keep the sun out of his eyes. He would claim he was watching the tip of the rod. When a fish bites, the tip twitches.
About thirty to forty minutes later, he would push back his cap, stretch and yawn. Suddenly he would lunge for his fishing pole. "Damn," he would exclaim. "It got away." Then he would reel up his rig and the hooks would be bare, both minnows gone. "Well, they got my bait."
Through suppressed laughter I would tell him, "Dad. The fish stole your bait, ten minutes after you fell asleep."
"I was not sleeping. Anyway you haven't caught any fish either."
"You were snoring so loud, you scared the fish away."
Today my oldest brother has a pontoon boat kept a marina on Houghton Lake. When the weather is right we head out on the lake. Many is the day we reminisce about fishing with our dad and how much he would have loved fishing from the pontoon boat. Especially with the fish finder.
He probably wouldn't have caught any more fish than he used to, but at least he would have been a lot more comfortable waiting for his fishing pole to twitch.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
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