Our Dads

[C.W.C.]

Originally Posted by Cbad Mike

After reading Zeds post about his dad fishing on another thread I got to thinking about my own dad and fishing.
My dad who was never a true fisherman himself introduced me to fishing when I was about 5. He used to take me to a pond near my house in Pennsylvania to fish for Sunnys armed with a little Zebco and a bobber. My dad taught me how to set the hook when I got a nibble but I used to jerk the rod too hard and sometimes ripped the lips right off of the fish.
I still smile when I think of the day I saw him fall in the smelly pond water. I laughed, he didn't.
At 8 years old, I remember like it was yesterday the feeling of how proud my dad was of me as he watched me reel in my first and definitely legal Flounder while fishing from a dock on a bay in New Jersey.
When I was older and living in Michigan I took my dad ice fishing for his first time. We took my snowmobiles out to my favorite spot on the lake. My dad said that he would cut the holes in the ice while I set everything else up. I gave him my chainsaw and he cut a good sized hole. He then tried to push the ice cork down under the ice with the blade of the saw. I had my back turned to him when I clearly heard the sound of my running chainsaw disappear through the hole after he dropped it. We unsuccessfully tried to fish the same hole for the rest of the day.
He laughed, I didn't.
I have great and funny memories of of fishing with my dad.
I would love to introduce him to fishing from a kayak in La Jolla but my pop is now 83 years old and lives across the country so it will never happen.
Our fishing days are sadly over.
Nothing but great fishing memories!

Figures a fellow "Silver Basser" who has grown up & fished around almost all the same ports as I, would put up this great thread!
Of course, my most fondest memories from my childhood were all centered around fishing with my Dad & Grandpa!
It first started around two and change hand-lining for Panfish off the banks in the spring & ice fishing the holes in the winter..
I have been trying to put together a fishing timeline from age 2 till now, from over the last few years digging through the archives..I need to do some more scanning from the old shoe boxes on the next trip to Canada..
Start 'em young!

Rigged up & ready for the day with my Dad...



1st 'reel' casting reel.. Skipped the 202.


CBad also knows all about the Silvers!


Castin' the canals in Florida...


Heres Part 2 from "Stand By Me". A typical beach lunch with the gang..
Grillin' up some fresh Pickeral (Walleye if I was in the States) with the homies on my beach back in Canada.


The Bowl-Cut Chef aka Wade in the middle..



Learning a few new rigs with my Grandfather & Dad at my fishing lodge #2 in Canada.


Fishin' the Rocks..


Learnin' proper butchering techniques from my Grandfather.
Do NOT waste a single catfish scrap around this man..



Grandpa teachin' me the ropes..

Early Submersion Program..



The ol' lake is currently around 95% frozen right now I am told by my neighbors..


Deep in Mexico with my grandfather showing me some of his ol' stomping grounds while I catch some quality family time in the fighting chair..




TAKE A KID FISHING!!!!!

[janines.fishtales@cox.net]

Yes, it was my dad that got me addicted. He was a commercial fisherman (retired now) and had a passion for fish and fishing. He would go out to sea to work and me, my mom, brother and sister would see him off downtown at the waterfront in San Diego. Then we would all pile up in the station wagon and haul @$$ to Shelter Island and wave to his boat as they would go by on their way out of Pt. Loma. He would always be at the bow waiting for us and wave to us with those big rough, brown and beautiful hands of his. I love that man like no other...

When he would come home after months out at sea, guess what he would want to do when he first got home (of course with a detour to see to mom and some alone time...), he would take MY BROTHER fishing. I begged and pleaded, I want to go, I want to go! He would refuse me because I am A GIRL, and they do not fish. Well.... I wore him out and he finally took me with them. I WAS ABSOLUTELY HOOKED. And to tell you the truth, the best part was just being with him and my bro doing something that brought us all so much joy.

My father has to this day, never stopped taking me fishing. We still go. For me, because of him, I have one of the greatest passions of my life. He is my best friend and my BEST fishing partner. As I watch him slow down, it hurts sometimes to see the amazingly handsome, strong, warm man wind down. We have a trip planned for next January. We are going steelhead fishing in Oregon. I will drive us there and while he will not be able to walk the miles we used to, we will both sit down, with a huge fire, good strong coffee and fish from our chairs. And have the time of our lives.

I will not forgive him however, for the one time when I was about 3. We were in the Sierra for trout. He gave me my own rod and reel, a Snoopy outfit. At the end of the line was a big red plastic fish. When I was old enough to realize that no matter how hard I tried, I was NEVER going to catch anything with that plastic fish at the end of my rod. Dad how could you?! Love you pop.

J

[C.W.C.]

You guys like Blooming Onions?
Well here ya go..

Here is my very last physcial memory with the man that taught me almost every single thing that truly matters on this little planet. (Fishing too.)
Life is just too short. Get down to what really matters..Teach someone how to fish today..If ya don’t have kids, take the neighbors..

My Grandpa had several fishin’ boats over the years..All of them were called the “Ol Soldier”, just like him. Couldn’t get the Ol’ Soldier to take out the Ol’ Soldier one last time, so I found one of those beach wheelchairs and taxied my dear Grandfather to the edge of the Gulf Of Mexico for us to enjoy it just one last time. He passed shortly after shooting this video..I still get on the old radio and call out his boat for prosperity. Long Live The Ol' Soldier!!!!!
Saying goodbye is still one of the hardest things for me..Thanks for everything, Grandpa!

[erinoo]

Sweet

[Irishman]

This post took me two days to bring my guts up to post....My Father is still alive and the part that kills me is I only get to see him about every year and and a half. I'm an immigrant to this great country. Born and raised in Ireland. I can tell you, if your willing to read along for a awhile.....
You can look up Dungarvan harbor, Ireland. It's a small fishing town from back in the day. Go back 40 years and imagine a child's delight to be involved and allowed to be part of the big mans club....we or I, was along for a mid summers pub fest, think great beer, local chat and when tv's were black and white.
Anyway...my Dad and my uncle Mossy are having pints at the Moorings (the pubs still there but now owned by English folks) so it's late in the evening, bear in mind it's close to about 10pm before the sun even sets in summer, and we are now hanging our legs over the dock. I'm about 10 or younger and have my heroes on either side.. Bacon attached to string and we are fishing for crabs.
So that's how it started...
Fast forward two or three years and I am invited on the holy grail...to go fishing on a boat. It's a big deal to reel up mackerel on feathers, then to be allowed to grind them up for rubby dubby. We were fishing for blue shark. On the way back in I was propped up on about three lifekackets and given the responsibility of steering thr boat. Everything was going great until I see a telegraph pole in the ocean, I yank the wheel left and nearly pitch my dad, uncle and Tommy Power over the side...it took about 10 seconds for tommy to get to the wheelhouse, arm raised and thick ear about to be applied. I simply pointed to the log and nothing was said...until we got back to The Moorings, then I felt like I had become a man....I had my first beer that day.
I'm wiping tears now, I'm 44 and wish I could turn back the clock. I've lived in San Diego since 1992 and see my family on average 5 days every two years. So for you ppl that have the luxury of seeing your parents, brothers, cousins etc...don't waste tomorrow or the next day...make it happen

[janines.fishtales@cox.net]

Originally Posted by Irishman

This post took me two days to bring my guts up to post....My Father is still alive and the part that kills me is I only get to see him about every year and and a half. I'm an immigrant to this great country. Born and raised in Ireland. I can tell you, if your willing to read along for a awhile.....
You can look up Dungarvan harbor, Ireland. It's a small fishing town from back in the day. Go back 40 years and imagine a child's delight to be involved and allowed to be part of the big mans club....we or I, was along for a mid summers pub fest, think great beer, local chat and when tv's were black and white.
Anyway...my Dad and my uncle Mossy are having pints at the Moorings (the pubs still there but now owned by English folks) so it's late in the evening, bear in mind it's close to about 10pm before the sun even sets in summer, and we are now hanging our legs over the dock. I'm about 10 or younger and have my heroes on either side.. Bacon attached to string and we are fishing for crabs.
So that's how it started...
Fast forward two or three years and I am invited on the holy grail...to go fishing on a boat. It's a big deal to reel up mackerel on feathers, then to be allowed to grind them up for rubby dubby. We were fishing for blue shark. On the way back in I was propped up on about three lifekackets and given the responsibility of steering thr boat. Everything was going great until I see a telegraph pole in the ocean, I yank the wheel left and nearly pitch my dad, uncle and Tommy Power over the side...it took about 10 seconds for tommy to get to the wheelhouse, arm raised and thick ear about to be applied. I simply pointed to the log and nothing was said...until we got back to The Moorings, then I felt like I had become a man....I had my first beer that day.
I'm wiping tears now, I'm 44 and wish I could turn back the clock. I've lived in San Diego since 1992 and see my family on average 5 days every two years. So for you ppl that have the luxury of seeing your parents, brothers, cousins etc...don't waste tomorrow or the next day...make it happen

Cheers Irishman....



J