It's not the catching of fish that create the bond between a father and son. It's the time that is spent together in the venture of the catch. My dad is nor ever was what I call an avid fisherman. He did however spend a lot of time fishing with me (and my two sisters) from a very young age.
We weren't out chasing trophy bass or record breaking trout. Exotic destinations were not on our bucket list. We fished in only a few places and they were inexpensive outings yet memorable ones. The creek that ran through our property was our main destination and creek chubs were our target. If we had more time we made the 5 minute trek to our neighbors farm pond, mostly on Sunday afternoons. This pond had bass in it however, we were after the bluegills by the dozens. A few Saturdays every summer we would make our way to Buffalo Creek about 15 minutes from the house for some nighttime mudcats. My dad would always encourage us to stick our thumb in the mouth of the 10" beast and let them chomp down. That NEVER happened! Though he always tried! One or two times a year my dad would wake me around 3 AM to drive to a stream in the mountains of WV. We would fish from daylight to dark for (at the time were elusive) stocked rainbows and brooks.
We weren't toting $75 rods with $80 dollar reels on them. We had a couple fiberglass fish rods from the department store in town with old Zebco spincasters holding our line. We didn't have a tackle box full of lures and specialty baits. Our tackle box contained a couple sizes of hooks, a few sizes of lead weights, and a couple bobbers. Along side the tackle box we had a coffee can to carry the worms we dug with a shovel. For the trout we would splurge and spent a couple dollars on some mill worms or a Joe's Fly spinner.
The gear we used and the locations we fished were not what defined us. We fished for the fun of it and benefited greatly from the time we spent together. The excitement of a fish on the line hold some great memories and conjured some good stories but between bites is when the bond was made. At a young age fishing often turned into skipping rocks or playing in the mud with a stick but we were still fishing together. Since my dad was not a "die hard" fisherman he would often join us in those additional activities which kept the experience fun.
As I got older my passion and desire to fish grew exponentially. Even still the love of fishing with my dad remained strong. Until I left for college my equipment remained very minimal. Some hooks, weight, and worms were all I needed. The addition of a few other bait options crept in but nothing more than chicken liver for mudcats and a seigne net to catch minnows for bass. Oh and I learned at age 8 that lunch meat was a killer bait for the chubs in our creek. Through my teens my dad casting beside me was still more common than not.
Through high school and college my dad and I spent more time than ever on the river bank for trout or under the moon for cats. However, most of the time I spent fishing was by myself or with my buddies. This was only because my passion for fishing had grown to exceed the time my dad had available. The spark that he created in me by teaching me how and where to catch fish had blown up into somewhat of an obsession. Along with the obsession a bond was created that is unbreakable. While in college we would meet on the Cranberry River and fish together for days. When I moved to Washington DC we would meet back in WV and spend time fishing a couple times a month. I however was fishing nearly everyday. The love I have for my father and the love I have for fishing rival one another but the relationship fishing built with him wins out. He was the Best Man in my wedding!
In 2006 my son was born and in the beginning I'd just take him with me. I'd put him in the Baby Bjorn (that was hell on the back) and get out for a few hours. By taking him with me at such a young age he would pick up sticks before he could walk and pretend to be fishing. Around the age of one my dad bought him his first fishing rod, a 3' Lightning McQueen kids rod at Bass Pro Shops. He would sit at the top of our stairwell and cast with a casting disk for hours. When the weather was nice he would take it outside and try to hit the mulch around the trees from 10 ft away. I though he was just practicing getting snagged as I ended up climbing a few trees to retrieve his casting disk that was wrapped around a limb or two.
He was about a year and a half when I took him to Gandy Creek for a father son day on the water with our REI kids backpack. In 8 hours we fished nearly 5 miles or trout stream. I don't remember if we caught many or any fish but it was the most memorable trip we've ever had. I'll spare you all the pictures from the day but this one was the beginning of the day and it couldn't have worked out any better. Aside from a couple mishaps at the onset.
Mishap ONE: I stood him at the rivers edge to get a shot of him holding my fly rod. As I backed away to get the shot he fell into the 36° water (OOPS). I quickly grabbed him as he became drenched and instantly frozen. My solution was to take him back to the car quickly and completely undress him. I threw his cloths over my defrosters in the car while I let hem pretend to drive the car. It only took about 15 minutes to dry his clothes. WIN#1! He only had the clothes on his back with us so this was a genius idea.
Mishap TWO: About 300 yards down stream from the car I realize my camera had fallen from it's holster and he was antsy to get out of the backpack. I let him out to walk the river bank back to the car while I searched the river bed for my Pentax water proof camera. I found my camera but I also found that letting him out to walk a bit back to the car burned some restless energy. For the rest of the day I fished until he got tired of being in the pack and then would let him out to stroll back to the car. We would drive the car back to the point we stopped fishing and do it all over again. WIN #2! We were able to fish for about 8 hours with procedure.
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| NOTICE: standing well away from the water |
That was the end of our mishaps and I realized that accommodating a 1.5 year old was going to cut into my fishing time but would be well worth it. We stopped our fishing for a about an hour so He could take his much need nap. Not long after the second mishap I was able to get the shot that I was looking for which caused the first mishap. We spent the day as father and son on the river. That began our bond of fishing.
Not long after that trip I started letting him fish from the backpack. That was an awesome idea! I could get him to the fish without worrying about spills. Being in the backpack also allowed me to act as his personal guide and untangle, re-bait, unsnag, or perform any other guide service.
When he was 2 1/2 I took him on my week long Cranberry River trip with the guys. My goal was to get him to catch 1 fish 100% on his own. Throughout the 5 days of fishing he caught nearly 20 trout on his own. Awesome! To this day he remembers what hole he caught the first Brooke trout.
He's 8 years old now and there have been a lot more experiences since our first guy trip that I'll write about in the future. The beginnings of his fishing experience has created a kid that is more about fishing and less about throwing rocks into that same water. Yes, I'm a proud dad.
