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Childhood Fishing Memories


laszlo

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One that stands out among the rest:

 

I was 13 years old at the time (May of 1989).

 

My mom and dad wanted to take my sister and I fishing for the day.

We fished a local pond with nothing to show for it. On the way home we noticed a little creek running under

the highway. We decided to give it a shot. Armed with cheapy rod/reels and corn we fished this little 'ditch' for about 30 minutes when my mom hooks into a 10 pound rainbow trout. She actually landed it and we all lost our minds. 15 minutes later I land a 7 pound rainbow and lose my mind all over again!

 

The next day we found out that the local trout farm had flooded and this tiny creek ran right behind it resulting in a bunch of farmed fish making it in there. Me and a couple other friends fished it for the next year and a half almost always landing 3 or 4 beautiful fish.

 

This all went down just outside the small town of Scotland Ont. along Hwy 24. I think the trout farm was called

P.J.'s.

 

I've been hooked ever since!

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Great story Laz.

 

When I was 3yrs old or so and my dad used to take me out a few times a week to the local spots like bluffers park, the Rouge and Frenchman’s bay to fish. I vividly remember catching my first fish, a small yellow perch from the Rouge river marsh. My dad let me stay a few minutes longer than normal there that night and just when it was about time to leave, I got it. We brought it home in a bucket full of river water and kept it in a small bath tub for babies. It lived in there for a day – My mom was not impressed…We released it a couple days after back into the Rouge where we caught it. That pretty much solidified whatever interests I had about fishing and aquarium keeping into becoming life-long obsessions.

 

I was fortunate to meet some great anglers who took me fishing on the weekends and at the age of 5 I started fishing the various rivers for whatever they’d cough up. My dad took me carp fishing at the local swims after school in the evenings during the week. Back then I already hooked and landed a few small steelhead using spinners and bottom bouncing worms however catching a strange looking fish literally blew my mind.LOL

 

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Same spot, 10yrs later, I introduce my dad further into the joys of river fishing for salmon and steelhead (beyond just trout opener). I’ve never seen him rush out to Crappy tire to get a pack of cleos as quickly.LOL We literally spent day after day fishing the rivers together from August through to May. We celebrated my 15th birthday together by going fishing. He bought me a 4000 Shimano Symetre to Christen a few days before.

 

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10yrs later, same river and still fishing with my dad on opener. That Playschool fishing rod my dad first got me at age 3 was the tool of the devil.LOL

 

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Guess I was spoiled. I could not begin to single out a day, or 2, or 3, that stand out from my childhood. Summers and weekends were an endless progression of fishing days, with a few special vacation trips thrown for interest.

First really memorable experience I was in my late teens. My cousin, 2 friends, and I spent 2 weeks canoeing and fishing through the Muskokas and backwater routes. What a blast. We didn't have a lot of gear. Didn't pack and carry a lot of food. We sure did eat a lot of fish. Didn't even think to bring a camera back then. It was just so beautiful and a lot more peaceful than it is now.

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I was pretty lucky as a young guy. I grew up in the UK just a stones throw from some of the best brown trout waters in the country and a quick drive (or bus ride)to the sea. I was float and fly fishing for browns by the time I was 9 or 10 and casting off the local beaches for cod in the winter and out fishing the wrecks in the north sea in the summer.

Every day was memorable, but one spring day we were out in my uncle's boat and a typical north sea gale blew up. We were about 10 miles out so we needed to get back in a hurry. By the time we caught sight of the harbour we were riding over 30' waves. Scariest ride I have had in 50+ years.

Edited by John
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I guess my most most memorable fishing incident was when I was about 12. My Dad had started taking me for a week each summer to a place on Devil's Lake near Dorset. I think the name of he lake has been changed since then. Anyway my cousin and uncle were with us that year and they weren't exactly nature boys, being from the GTA and all, ya know. :whistling:

 

So every morning we'd be up with the sun, fed and watered, and out on the lake in our little runabout. Our target was bass and perch but for some reason all we caught were nasty black catfish. My Dad had learned that the American folks up the lake were equally disappointed with the bass/perch they caught so they had long ago come to an understanding that we would trade one for one. We'd fish till mid-morning, then start motoring up the lake to meet said Americans coming down, make our fishy trades and head home for the afternoon siesta.

 

The story I remember particularly was really about my citified cousin. He was kind of a stiff, even as a kid. About the only fun I'd ever had with him was to hold him down and tickle him until he peed his pants but my aunt made me stop doing that so he wasn't much fun any more. He didn't like exploring the lake and the woods, he was scared by the huge spiders we found in the driftwood along the shoreline, he had no interest in crawling under the cottage to see where the quills from the porcupine had embedded themselves when he was shot there, and so on.

 

But one fine sunny morning as we motored along in our little boat he inadvertently provided a big bunch of entertainment. My Dad had taken to carrying the worms in a galvanized bucket in the boat. This was easy to pass around, it was stable and we could forage easily in the moss and muck for juicy looking crawlers. My cousin, just call him Stiff for short, was of course riding in the middle of the boat, the point farthest from any water and wild animals. I guess Dad (Dad always was the driver cuz it was our motor) crossed a wake because suddenly Stiff went ass over applecart backwards doing a perfect head-on into the worm bucket. For a second there was just his stubby little legs sticking up in the air flailing away while peculiar human noises emanated from the mossy bucket. It was a perfect moment, etched on my brain forever. When Stiff finally came up for air he had moss, dirt and great gooey worms all over his head and he was screeching for someone to get them off cuz he was afraid to touch them. My Dad and I were of course laughing our asses off while my uncle swatted away the wormy debris from Stiff's little head. Later my uncle was quite stern with me, out of my father's hearing of course, about how mean I was to Stiff but it didn't sink in very well.

 

So that's my favourite pre-adultery fishing story. I know it's pretty lame to admit that was a high point but if I told you about catching the monster mud-puppies I'd have to admit that I was almost as queasy about those critters as Stiff was about the worm hat. And I'll never admit to being like that.

 

Sorry, no pictures, and I can't begin to tell you how much I wish we had some. If we did I'd probably have had to sneak into Stiff's High School (he's the principal) in the GTA and post them for the students to enjoy. That would be almost as good as tickling him till he peed.

 

JF

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I have tons of great fishing memories, but the one that stands out the most is the first pike I ever caught.

 

Trolling through the narrows coming out of pretty channel on Six Mile Lake, with my Dad. Just as we passed over the "no anchor" warning signs for the under water hydro lines, I get snagged. I pulled on the line for a few minutes, thinking I must have snagged a rock, or maybe worse, the power lines..

 

SO I hand the rod to my old man. He tugs on it a few times, then hands the rod back to me..

 

A little bewildered, I ask him to throw it in reverse, so I can get a better angle on it. He says, nope, you got a pike on son. Almost immediately after he said that, the pike went on a tear.

 

We landed it, and I got my first lesson on how to handle the toothy critters.

 

On the way back to the cottage, we held that fish up to every occupied dock we could find. I was so proud of my catch. The cottagers next door came over with a camera and took a few pics, then mailed them to me later that summer. It was only 36", but as a 10 year old kid, that was huge..

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Many memories, however, one that will always be there is the of the one that didn't get away. I was 16 or just about 17 at the time and my dad was working in the Sault and didn't know if he was going to be up for the annual Salmon Derby. The day the derby started, i get home from school and my dad is there with the boat ready to go, i remember being so excited about not really the derby anymore but him being home.

 

Anyways we register for the 3 day event and head out just after 5, which wasn't bad seeing how it started at 5. We start trolling and i am sure the conversation was still the same from when i was a tot, "have you ever caught a salmon here" and "ever catch a salmon on this" "what about this". Those questions my dad still answers with a smile on his face today. We trolled for about and hour and a half when we are on the North shore of the bay, when the rod beside him releases and the reel starts to sing, instincts kick in and he grabs the rod while i bring in the other rod and riggers. Shortly after, which i am sure felt like an hour, and many jaw dropping runs right below the boat, we netted a 21 lb Salmon. Not overally big, but here those fish are becoming rare.

 

We head in to get it weighed and my brother, uncle and grandmother were volunteering that night at the check in station and saw us in our 14ft tinbanger coming up the river, and my brother said when he saw us he knew 1 of 2 things happened...mechanical trouble or BIG fish. When we drove slowly by him i lifted the fish up and he nearly jumped out of his shoes. We had it pegged at 15 lbs but when it was 21 we knew we were close. That night the fish held on and won $500 and held out for the weekend and won another $5000.

 

Definitly one of those moments that will forever be etched in my memory.

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Wish I had the photograph still :( I was 12 years old fishing NE of Kingston one night after 9pm with live frogs. I was casting under a bridge while my dad and papa were down the bank 60ftish fishing off a dock..felt this weird bite...missed the fish, casted back to the same area and this fish was so big and fat...faught it screaming for the others to come over...of course i was standing on a ledge 6ft above the water but it was shallow straight down. My papa jumped down shoes on and all and grabbed this fish once I brought it in..we got a photo of it and weighed it on a old spring scale and it was 6lbs even....

 

Unreal fish it was and from that day on I started to read more and more about bass fishing. I fished before this but now every day I think about fishing and it was all because of this fish.

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I was always extremely spoiled in that I have a cottage on a pristine bass lake. We are the only cottage on the lake, and all summer the bass are always on. I always tell me friends "you can use the wrong gear, in the wrong way, at the wrong time of day, and you will always have a good day".

 

My favourite memory is when I was about 12 or 13. My brother and I had a small (4 ft) rowboat with a Yamaha 2 hp outboard. One day, my dad and brother had gone into town and it was just me and my Mom. Being a rather unsporty woman, I was surprised when she offered to take me trolling on the lake. Without hesitation I grabbed my rod and my favourite floating jointed Rapala perch pattern. After trolling for only about 5 minutes something hit my lure and the line started peeling off. I could tell it was a trophy. On my lake, we only have smallmouth, perch, and sunfish so when you feel a solid tug, you know its a nice bass.

 

I will always remember my Mom's expression when we both saw the amber flash a few feet from the boat. "HOLY COW CHRIS, THAT IS A MONSTER", she uncharacteristically screamed. When we got it in the boat neither of us could believe the size, it was the biggest bass that had ever been caught on the lake (we're the only ones so we get to command the record!). 21 inches of solid smallie, still the biggest bass I've caught to date.

 

For centuries, Fathers and Sons have been bonding over fishing, but lets not forget about Mom. Now I'm a new teacher and she is a principal. In her office she has the only origional picture of that fish. I'm gonna let her keep it :)

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Seeing this is my first post, I guess this is an appropriate place for it.

 

The picture pretty much speaks for itself.

 

Around 1965, ice fishing for "Petit poissons des chenaux" (smelt, I think).

Ste-Anne-de-la-perade, Quebec.

Me on the left, my brother with the fish.

4455257293_466c8ce880.jpg

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Seeing this is my first post, I guess this is an appropriate place for it.

 

The picture pretty much speaks for itself.

 

Around 1965, ice fishing for "Petit poissons des chenaux" (smelt, I think).

Ste-Anne-de-la-perade, Quebec.

Me on the left, my brother with the fish.

4455257293_466c8ce880.jpg

 

 

Great photo Rob, welcome aboard!

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I guess I was one of those lucky ones like some of the other members. Parents always rented cottages in the summer, then progressed to a trailer of our own. My father also had his home made wooden boat that he was so proud of, we had many adventures in that sucker. The most memorable was being out on Cooks Bay in 3 foot rollers, with my brother and I huddled under the front section of the boat because it was just too cold. Every once in awhile my father would pass a smoke to us and ask us to light it for him because of the wind. That was a long time ago, but I remember pulling in nice size smallies trolling the drop off and reeds. Rented cottages on Rice Lake and Sturgeon once we were a little older, probably around 6 years of age. Did lots of camping in the Waubashene area, Buckhorn Lake and wherever. Whole extended family would do the Frenchman's Bay thing or the Heart Lake Sunday picnic. The one thing that stands out in my mind is that I would always be looking for a way to go fishing. I grew up at Jane and Finch in North York, moved in when the corners at Jane and Finch were farm field. We would get on our bikes and fish Black Creek or the Humber River for Chub, then we found a pond and an old swimming pool north of Steeles off of Weston road which us group of kids would frequent throughout the summer. Amazingly we caught sunfish and catfish. We then discovered the pond on Weston Road by the Toronto Star Building that actually held LM Bass. That was always a hoot, until they locked us out with gates.

The trailer was on various lakes that included Scugog, Pigeon and Chemong. That's probably how I ended up living on Pigeon Lake now, I just hated leaving at the end of summer. Fishing is always a part of my early memories! Darn, I have to start scanning some of those old photos.

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I remember being about 5,my father took me fishing off shore at lake down a old bush road.We were fishing for walleye,He helped me cast out my line,about 10 minuites later I was reeling in a small walleye when a large pike hit.He dragged me almost into the lake then my dad got me.We never found out how big it was.I fished that same lake with my father last september,and I caught a 19lb 41'' pike! Never know coulda been the same fish!? :dunno:

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I remember when I was about 10 yrs old and I was fishing at the end of our local neighbourhood beach, where there was a deep hole. There was a big sign that said DANGER DEEP HOLE. Well it was really hot that day and the big crowd was spilling over to the deep hole to swim, where we were fishing. I thought I had a bite so I set the hook hard enough to cross his eyes. SNAG :wallbash: Well lucky for me there was a kid there with his flippers and mask swimming around. I tried to get my snag out to no avail then asked this kid to help me out.

 

He said no problem and took my line and started swimming out. When he got over it he did a dive to go unhook me(we have lots of logs on the bottom here) and in about 5 seconds he came up out of the water screaming I had a huge fish on, as he beat his ass to shore scared stiff. Now my heart started to pound. I had my dads rod and reel that day and he didn't even know. It was sweet, a Mitchell 301 on a Berkley Cherrywood. Were talking 1970 here. I couldn't move this fish as much as I tried. Then a crowd started to gather and cheer me on. Then this man came over and wanted to give me a hand, and I would have no part of that. Finally I turned around to the shore and started walking with my rod over my shoulder and this fish came in. I wrestled with it on the sand to get a hold of it. I had the fish on the chain and was heading home with my bike. I had his tail tied to me pedal and his head to my handlebars. I ws so proud walking home pushing my bike and everyone slowing down to see my big fish. Did you catch that son, yep all by myself. I felt 8 feet tall. My first sturgeon about 15 lbs. That sucker was almost as big as me.

 

Never got to use the old boys rod again cause in all the fuss with that big fish I filled his reel with beach sand. Was hooked on fishing before that but was really hooked now.

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Catch from a day of brown trout fishing in Scotland when I was a teenager. This photograph is 20 years old. I feel old now.

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And yes I know I look like an idiot (Still love slayer though) :whistling: :whistling:

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I'm sure I've posted this memory before but us old guys got a way of repeating ourselves so here goes...whistling.gif

 

MY FIRST BIG FISH...

 

I was born and lived in Toronto but come summer holidays I was shipped off to the family farm at Port Perry (beside the causeway) to stay with my grandfather and his sister (my great-aunt)...

 

The odd weekend my grampa and I would put-put our way up to Caeserea to an uncle's cottage in his old model "T"...They had an old wooden punt that we would paddle out to a tall stake they had put in the mud near a weedbed to tie up to...not sure how old I was but old enough to take the boat out by myself and catch mostly perch, sunfish, and bullheads with a four foot bamboo stake with about the same length of line...this time I thought I was snagged on sumpin' but somehow by tugging real hard I managed to flip a 3 to 4 pound Largemouth into the boat...Boy...I couldn't get back in to shore fast enough to show my grampa...I think half the neighborhood was waiting at the dock as I was hollering Grampa!...Grampa!...Grampa! all the way in...I guess they thought I was in trouble or sumpin'...stretcher.gif

 

I can still see the look on my great-aunt's face when I showed her the fish on Sunday afternoon back at the farm...She said "Oh...did your grampa catch that?"...As she was hard of hearing all I could do is shake my head for "no" and pointed to my chest...Oh! Oh! Oh! she cried and her eyes lit up...We dined on bass for supper that night...nice change from catfish and panfish, or sausages or headcheese...smile.gif

Edited by Beans
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Ardglass, near Downpatrick in N. Ireland. off a dock in to the Irish Sea. Pouring rain from 9AM - 5PM (trust me, you don't get rain here in Canada, we get rain back home!) it was 'lashing rain' as we call it. The dock was about 30ft above the sea (nice if you fall in!), myself and my granfather (now deceased - worked as a joiner in the shipyard, Harland and Wolf which built the Titanic). He was using old reels and line which was full of kinks, using worms. It was an exercise in futility but I never forgot it because as we were leaving, we realised why we weren't catching anything, a bunch of seals appears and starting barking and laughing at us!

 

I never fished again (1988) till 2007 in Canada, just accompanied a friend who needed some company, we ventured towards Rice Lake, started searching for the river and access to it (Otanabee River), couldn't find any land except that it was private so eventually we stumbled on to a place with cabins, couldn't find anyone so we used the dock, it was only a few hundred feet from the mouth of the river it seemed and was quite wavy, first time fishing really, using a minnow and no clue on how to work/retrive it, I landed a walleye in about my 3rd cast - since that point on - game on! Still learning, enjoying Ontario, one of the best places to fish fresh water on earth.

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I was a very lucky youth. Besides growing up on the banks of the Grand my parents bought a high/low trailer when I was five and we spent every weekend and a full two week vacation traveling around Ontario. As soon as the camper was raised the add-a-room set up and I had filled and carried back to camp a plastic water bottle I was GONE to fish whatever waterway we were on. I remember distinctly the first trip we ever took. Summer of 69, Lake Scugog Bird something or Birdie or bluebird campgrounds. Everyday I would meet this older boy down at the docks he helped me fish and we would catch perch like crazy. Then one day in the evening the boy probably ten or eleven hooked into a musky. To a five year old it left an incredible impression. It was bigger than me. The kid landed it and even got his picture in the local paper. I couldn't ever get enough of fishing in grade school my buddy and I would go to this pond right near our school at lunch and fish for chub using bread from our sandwiches as bait. We didn't use rods just a spool of line and a small piece of twig as a bobber. We never had adult supervision Its a shame that kids today dont have the same freedoms I had as a child.

Edited by Musky or Specks
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On the day I was born .. my Dad an expert fisherman who was 73 years old at the time (yes he was my biological father) went and bought me a Bobby Orr fishin' rod.

DadMe-1.jpg

My earliest memory is at about the age of 2 or 3 fishin' from the dock at our old cottage on Lake Tomiko catchin' Rock Bass and Sunfish..

 

I've never looked back .... FISH ON COME ON!!!! {said with a French accent} ;)

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AHHHH! The memories... :good:

 

Here's some of the things MY kids 'll remember.

 

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AHHHH! Their memories.... :good:

 

Lookin' forward to summer.

RFS

:canadian:

Edited by Randy from Sturgeon
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Sorry, no pictures..camera's weren't invented yet... but I can remember when I was a young tad and my parents somehow had this small cottage near Lime Lake, NY with another couple...well I am guessing I was about 10 years old and my friend Greg and I found our fathers beer stored in a cold creek near the cottage...Well, we floated all the cans out to a deep pool...guess what...our dad's figure it out and made us swim out in the VERY COLD waters to retrieve them...and we didn't even get a swig.. :wallbash:

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Hey Randy. I had a pair of Bobby Orr skates. Remember they had the yellow sides. Man I loved those skates. Never did see the Bobby Orr fishing rod though, or I would of had one of them for sure.

 

 

In this picture I'm holding the Bobby Orr rod....

fishnaskid2.jpg

 

RFS

:canadian:

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