TH ROD CONTEST

[Jennie@ifish]

Oh! I wanna win this too! But I can't play! Besides, I already have a TH rod, do you? They are gorgeous!
Enter here, under this header!
Read about the contest here!
I will submit a test story, but it doesn't count.
Jen

[Jennie@ifish]

Come on you guys! Write!
If you don't have kids, tell us how you yourself learned to fish from an adult? How was fishing passed on to you?
Just write!
I deleted mine... Where is yours???
Believe me, you want a TH CUSTOM ROD!!!!
Jen

[TW]

I don't have children yet, so I have to write about why I will teach them when I have them...


I will teach my kids to fish because my Dad taught me. He taught me to fish, and even in our rockiest moments it was something we could always do together. And if our time on earth allows it, My kids will learn to fish from both of us Dad and I.
I will teach my kids to fish because it is something I love. It takes me to beautiful places and brings me in contact with a world that can't be seen from a window or windshield. I can't predict where my children will end up or what they will do, but I can give them the memories of these places that they will carry wherever they find themselves.
I will teach my kids to fish because it has at times been my refuge, my place to think things out. Someday my children too might find that big rock along the river a good place to make decisions, chart a new course or vow to keep the one they're on.
I will teach my kids to fish because no matter how angry, sad or tense I might be the two things that always warm my heart are a Flowing river and a Childs smile.

Tom

[ZaQ]

I was pretty young when my daughter was born, to be completely honest, I wanted a boy. I often thought about all the little things I was going to have do as she grew up, ballet, dance, cheerleading, etc. I thought to myself, if I can get her into fishing, I mean really INTO fishing she might not want to do those things. I would have it made! As both her and I grew older, I realized that fisherman were the ones that will preserve the future of the sport. Than I knew she had to become a fisherman, so she could continue the stewardship that each of us has taken on.
I still remember a trip that I took her fishing for winter steelies on the Clackamas. She was 3 years old and it was me, her, and my fishing partner. I fired up the old heater and pushed it real close to her, it was a very cold day. I sent out the armada of hotshots and pulled the anchor. She was holding one of the rods when it completely doubled over. I told her to hold on to it and she did long enough for me to drop the anchor. Together we began to fight the fish, but I soon realized this was no ordinary fish. It was in the upper teens and I alone was having trouble with it. We ended up loosing it, but that night she told her Grandmother all about the "big one that got away". At that moment Grandma, a ballet person, knew the little girl was lost to her and the ballet world.
I don't take her fishing as much as I should anymore, but she is now 5 and it is time. She can tie simple flies and is pretty accurate at casting. I think she will make a fine fisherman, not to mention the best fishing partner anyone could dream of!


[ 05-02-2001: Message edited by: QaZ ]

[On a mission]

MY DAD WAS THE GREATEST DAD IN THE WORLD. BUT HE DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO FISH. UNCLE MICK WAS THE ONE WHO TAUGHT ME TO FISH. HE WOULD TAKE ME AND MY COUSIN EVERY PLACE IN OREGON TO FISH. WE WENT FORM DIAMOND LAKE TO THE OCEAN.LAST YEAR HE PAST AWAY AND I TOLD THIS TRUE STORY AT HIS FUNERAL.

ONE DAY WE WENT CHINOOK FISHING ON THE LITTLE NESTUCCA. I ALWAYS FISHED WITH A SPINNING REEL SO I WOULDN'T GET A BIRDS NEST. UNCLE MICK USED THOSE REALLY NEAT, HARD TO FISH <THEN> LEVEL WINDS. HE COULD CAST ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE RIVER. KEEP IN MIND I WAS ABOUT 8 OR 9 AND THAT WAS A BIG RIVER. AS KIDS DO, I KEPT WALKING ALONG THE BANK LOOKING FOR FISHING TACKLE. I FOUND A RUSTED DAREDAVIL. I WAS SO EXCITED AND TOOK IT RIGHT OVER TO UNCLE MICK. HE ASKED IF HE GOOD USE IT TO FISH WITH. I WAS SO PROUD. BEFORE HIS CAST HE TOOK HIS WALLETT OUT AND PUT A GREEN BANDAID WITH YELLOW DOTS ON ON THE DAREDAVIL. <THEY MADE THOSE BACK IN THE OLD DAYS.> ON THE FIRST CAST HE HOOKED A 20LB HEN WITH SEA LICE ALL OVER HER. MY UNCLE NEVER LOOKED SUPRISED BUT YOU CAN GUESS HOW I WAS FEELING. I BELIVED THEN AND DID ALL THRU THE YEARS THAT UNCLE MICK WAS THE GREATEST FISHERMAN THERE WILL EVER BE. NOW I KNOW THAT HE WAS THE BEST UNCLE THERE WILL EVER BE.

[Dances]

I was really young when I first learned how to fish and I can remember to well so I will tell how I learned how to steelhead Fish

I was about 10 or 12 years old I think I am not sure but I can rememeber that day like it was yesterday

My dad told me we were going fishing for summer run steelhead the next morning.
And like a kid waiting to go to Sea World I could not sleep. Well my dad woke me up the next morning and I was up in a flash.

We went to Toms house and got ready to leave on the way down to the there I dont rememeber much cuz I was asleep [img]images/icons/smile.gif[/img]
well we got to the river and Away we went. we drifted by blue creek and I got to hear all the stories about fish caught in the past.

well the day went on and we had not hooked a fish for a couple hours and I can remember sayin to my self "Here fishy fishy fishy"

Then tom set the hook it was a nice hen about 14 lbs. but for some unseen reason the line snaped at the reel. my dad looked over at me and said cover your ears before I could respond I heard more swear words in one breath then I had ever heard before.

I could not stop laughin because Tom was yellin at the top of his lungs at his reel [img]images/icons/grin.gif[/img]
And the fact that first fish to the boat got a buck [img]images/icons/rolleyes.gif[/img]

well we ran up and down that river and finally Tom hooked another one and got it to the boat Another nice hen about 12-14 lbs well we stoped for lunch for about an hour then we went back to fishing .

Well the day went on and we didnt hook any more fish untill we were running up river and my dad and tom saw a flash in the water it was a little summer run jsut waitin for some bait.

We ran up to the top of the hole and drifted down and Wham my rod went down I set the hook and the fight was on It lasted for about 5-10 minutes but it seem like only 30-40 seconds we got the little 8lb hen to the boat my whole body was shaken and I had a grin on my face from ear to ear
and we called it a day.

My first summer steelhead Is mounted and sittin up about the TV in my parents house [img]images/icons/grin.gif[/img]
I guess you could say I was hooked for life [img]images/icons/grin.gif[/img]

[ 05-03-2001: Message edited by: FishheadJr.31 ]

[Luvtofish]

I have enjoyed fishing as long as I can remember. I can remember being about 8 years old fishing in wind and rain at Garabaldi off the rocks. the rest of the family wanted to go home, but I kept fishing until they wouldn't wait in the car for me any longer. I Grew up on the Willamette River in Sellwood. I used to crawl under the Waverly fence and run through the golf course down to the river. Sometimes being pursued by the greens keepers. When I had my boys it was just something I knew I could teach them. It worked into a regualr thing for us. It was good for so many things getting away from the stress of jobs, school. It's amazing how many things seemed to be easier to talk about while we were fishing. The last five years we have included many neighbor and friends boys, some who had never even touched a fishing pole. Now that the boys are about grown they both love to fish. My 17 year old caught his first Salmon last fall in Hooksets boat. We have kept trying for another and have yet to get one, but I know we will. I am not the most knowedglable fisherperson, but I keep learning. This site and all the great people on it have helped with many questions I don't know where else I would go to get the answers.

[swampy]

I WANT TO THANK YOU , DAD , FOR INSTILLING IN ME AT A YOUNG AGE , AN INTENSE APPRECIATION OF THE OUTDOORS , THE THRILL OF FISHING , AND THE BEAUTY AND POWER OF GOD'S EARTH . PLEASE REDEEM THIS CERTIFICATE FOR A 2001 FISHING LICENSE SO THAT YOU AND I CAN DO THE SAME WITH AUSTIN , MY SON ,YOUR GRANDSON. I LOVE YOU, MICHAEL THIS WAS THE NOTE I WROTE WITH MY DADS CHRISTMAS PRESENT THIS YEAR . I HAVE SEEN MY DAD CRY ONLY TWICE IN MY LIFE . WHEN HIS DAD DIED AND WHEN HE READ THIS NOTE. HE SAID TO ME THAT WHEN HIS DAD DIED WHAT HURT MOST WAS NOT THAT HE HAD PASSED AWAY FOR HE HAD HAD A LONG AND UGLY ILLNESS. HIS PASSING THEN WAS A BLESSING . WHAT HURT MOST WAS THAT HE COULD NEVER TELL HIS FATHER HOW MUCH HE MEANT TO HIM . MEN DIDN'T DO THAT . HE THANKED ME FOR BREAKING THAT CYCLE . HE HUGGED ME , TOLD ME HE LOVED ME , AND ASKED; "WHEN CAN WE TAKE AUSTIN FISHING?" TAKE YOUR CHILDREN FISHING . TAKE YOUR PARENTS FISHING . TEACH THEM TO RELISH IN ALL THAT THE GREAT OUTDOORS HAS TO OFFER . AND TELL THEM THAT YOU LOVE THEM .....

[Bait O' Eggs]

I will teach my children Jack and Rachael to fish because they want to be just like daddy. I haven't been a father for to many years but I have learned a couple things in the few years I have been parenting. Little kids look up at their daddy and want to be just like him. I see it in my children every day. I see it in myself now that I am a little older and have my own children.

I was born with a dad that worked for the fish commission, which has long since been re-named the ODFW. We lived in tiny little houses that were provided by the fish commission on the hatcheries. I have fond memories of spending time playing in the hatchery buildings, swimming in the cold fish ponds with the smolt as they pecked at my legs, watching dad pick the dead eggs from the trays with the cascading waters running thru them. I remember alarms going off in the night when coastal storms took the alder leaves from the trees plugging the intake grates to the ponds, dad would crawl from a warm bed to go rake leaves so the water could flow to the fish.

When I was born the Trask Hatchery was home, then we moved to the Marion Forks Hatchery on the North Santiam. There was a short stint at the Mckenzie hatchery then it was back to the Marion Forks Hatchery. Around the time the Fish Commission became the ODFW my dad left the organization, but my love for the fish had long since sunk its talons into me. We moved back to Tillamook and my parents currently live on the banks of the Trask River. I recently adopted with my family thru SOLV my favorite stretch of water that runs from where I was born to where my parents currently live. I hope to teach my children by cleaning the garbage from the river we make a better place for all of us, including the fish. This is my home river, the flowing waters that call to me in the wee hours of the morning when it is time to fish. Somebody needs to take care of the river, it might as well be me and my family.

My father used to take us fishing on a regular basis. I remember having Christmas dinner many years in a row on the banks of the Trask. One pole for everybody in the family wedged in the rocks with a little bell near the top. The distinct ding ding ding of a fish would send us all scurrying towards our pole. A big fire burning and all three of us boys huddled around it trying to stay dry and warm in the rain as we ate Christmas turkey. I have wonderful memories of fishing the coastal rivers for trout and steelhead, but the high cascade lakes holds a spot near and dear to my heart. One of the truly spiritual places for me is Marion Lake. A 360 acre lake that sits between Mt Jefferson and Three Fingered Jack in the 8 lakes basin. A beautiful 2 ½ mile gradual uphill hike thru undisturbed old growth timber is the price to see this place. If God was to build his own church I am convinced it would be on the banks of Marion Lake. The walk thru the old growth trees getting to the lake is as close as we have on earth to what those experience going thru St Peter gates. I am convinced Gods house would have a dock with a sign that said no motors allowed, and a couple small row boat tied up with a couple poles in each of them. This is primitive area where peace and quiet is the norm and the eagles taking fish from the lakes surface can not only be seen but heard. Before I had my own kids, I spent almost every weekend with my wife thru the summers camping on its banks. When we had kids our trips became nonexistent. My kids are currently 1 and 3 and in a few years we will be able to make regular trips to the lake again as a family.

When my boy was one I carried him into Marion lake with a cup cake and candle in my pocket. We had a little birthday party and enjoyed the snow capped peaks surrounding the crystal clear water. On his second birthday I again carried him into the lake to have his birthday party. Trips I will remember until I die. My wife is convinced our church where the pastor speaks of god is where our kids will learn about god. I think the banks of Marion Lake is where god may well speak to my son. I have planted the seeds of fishing these lakes deep in my son so they will take up strong roots.

Our kids do not like to sit in church for an hour and be quiet. It is tough on a little kid to be confined to that little pew with a handful of quite toys. One of their quite church toys they enjoy, is looking at pictures in a small photo album we have put together. One of the pictures in that album is a picture of my wife, son and myself sitting on a rock at Marion Lake from his first birthday trip. I find it fitting to sit in church and look at pictures of what lies beyond St Peters gate. Maybe we can all sit on that rock some distant day and fish for eternity when we are reunited at the lake in the sky.

I believe I am where I am today because of the values instilled in me as a kid. Knowing the difference between right and wrong comes from quality time with caring parents. I believe one tool that will help me teach my kids everything from conservation to caring, is fishing. Spending time with kids doing things that are fun to the kids will build a relationship that will last a life time. I want my kids to fish so they will understand what makes me who I am. Why I do what I do is as simple as a single cell organism,. If they only feel the passion I feel, they will know. When I am old and cannot get around very well I want my kids to take me out to our fishing holes that I watched them grow up at. I can have my hook in the water and the memories of my kids running in my mind of them throwing rocks and sticks along the shore as little tikes. They may not understand the smile on my face is from the memories I am building today, but when I am long gone and they grow gray and fish with their kids they will understand why I was smiling. I long for time today with my parents along the waters edge. Dad rarely fishes but a few times a year. His vision makes tying up hooks a difficult chore, and his pride doesn't allow him to let me do it for him. May I learn from his mistakes and not repeat them with my kids. Maybe he is staying away and letting me build my memories with my kids as he did when he was younger, But perhaps he should sit at the waters edge with me and his smile and watch his grand kids throwing rocks and sticks. I miss fishing with him.

[ 05-03-2001: Message edited by: Bait O' Eggs ]

[rhansme]

The Good Ole Days………


My Dad always took my brother and I fishing up on Tacoma creek. A nice small little creek over in eastern Washington. I think we went every weekend in the summer and spring. He would roust us out of our dreams, shouting “ Time to get up boys, the fish are waiting”. Now 4 A.M. is mighty early to a 5 and 6 year old, but sure enough we would get up. Grab our fishing poles. Pack up the ole 54 Dodge Panel, and off we would go. I used to think it was cool to watch the street lights at 4 AM blinking with no traffic…hehe…
The drive was about a 2-hour drive from Spokane to our favorite camping spot in a big clearing on the creek. Our uncle Ray would already be there in his little trailer and the fire would be going.
He was a great guy. He would make us homemade golf clubs out of willows and a piece of hardwood flooring from my dad’s truck. He would bring a bunch of old golf balls for us to putt down the gopher holes…hehe.those were the days………
We always dug up a bunch of worms the day before. That was as much fun as fishin! Dad would give me his empty Prince Albert tobacco can and I would fill it up with the best ones! Once we pulled into camp I could hardly wait to get to the creek, my brother on the other hand was more of a thinker. He never really cared for fishing. He would start roaming the camp looking for pine cones to put into a big ole coffee can full of water and set them on the fire to boil. He was making some kind of secret formula. (It is still a secret today!) I on the other hand was off to the creek. My worms safely tucked away in my jeans, and a new sharp eagle claw hook tied securely on the end of the line. With a couple of split shot sinkers gripping the line with my teeth marks in em. Didn’t need no stinking pliers. For some reason I would always head upstream first. (Still do that today). Usually only a few feet from the camp so dad could keep an eye on me. I would look for a fishy spot and drop in my worm. That creek was full of nice little brook trout eager to make a kids day. They would bite the hook and I would let out a holler, “Dad, Dad, I caught one! I caught one!” He would say “bring him over here and put him in the tub. We always brought a big ole style wash tub. Dad would fill it with creek water and I would put the fish in it and head back to the creek for more. We would keep enough for breakfast and then my dad and uncle Ray would take the tub and empty it back into the creek……hehe…..Those were the days.
Well, now my Dad and Uncle Ray are gone. They are buried side by side. I think they are still telling each other the same stories over a 5th of whiskey. I can smell the smoke, taste the wild strawberries and huckleberries that we would pick later in the summer. I can see my brother looking into the boiling pot of pine cones thinking of some concoction and what it was going to do for mankind some day…hehe….
So Fathers, Mothers, Aunts and Uncles, Take your kids fishing. You will instill in them a zest for nature. A love of the outdoors. But most of all you will create memories that will last a lifetime. For our time on this great world of ours is actually quite short. I know one 46 year old kid that misses those days a lot.


rhansme
[img]images/icons/smile.gif[/img] [img]images/icons/smile.gif[/img] [img]images/icons/smile.gif[/img] [img]images/icons/smile.gif[/img] [img]images/icons/smile.gif[/img] [img]images/icons/smile.gif[/img] [img]images/icons/smile.gif[/img]

[On a mission]

YOU GUYS ARE REAL GOOD. BO SHOULD BE A STORY WRITER FOR AN OUTDOOR MAGAZINE. ITS GREAT TO READ THESE STORIES.

[Jennie@ifish]

I think so too!
Dang, you have me all choked up!
Where is the emoticon for all choked up?
Jen

[Artwo]

All the stories have been great, but I think the bar just got set a little higher didn't it. Nice story BOE.

JK

[Jennie@ifish]

Bringing this to the top for two reasons.
For you to consider entering, and also to share these stories, should you have missed them.
Great stories...
Jen

[SteelieSteve]

I grew up in Eugene and fished often with my Mother who was a avid trout angler. We would go up to Blue River on the Mckenzie and spend many weekends fishing for trout every season. It was really never the fish that brought us to the river but the togetherness and the rivers and being outdoors. This set the hook n me and I've been fishing all my life, not to many trout excursions anymore. The peace and tranquillity of being on the river with the possibility of catching a nice fish brings me peace. I raised my children to fish along side dad and whille fishing at a local reservoir my four year old caught a 22 inch rainbow brooder that had been stocked. She had the biggest grin on her face as I helped her get that fish to the shore and had bragging rights for big fish of the day. Spending time with your children and teaching them to fish is a thing you will cherish in your memories forever, much like all those times I spent with Mother on river banks in Oregon. Several years ago when we had to clear out her house I came across fishing poles that dated back into the fifties. Due to poor health she got to the point that she couldn't get out fishing any longer, but she never lost her desire to go fishing. She passed on last year but every spring no matter what her condition was she always talked to me about when we were going fishing. No matter how the fishing was she was always thrilled to go. Guess it is hereidtary for I spend many sleepless nights anticipating the next days fishing trip, wondering if I have overlooked anything, the favorite places to fish ect. Now it's springer season and I keep trying to hook that elusive fresh Salmon. It's out there swimming upriver right now and all I have to do is offer it the right bait or lure and then the magic starts. The rod goes down with the hard take of a Chinook then the powerful runs through the hole as the fiesty salmon trys to get away only to end up sliding up on the bank to get bonked and brought home to the waiting bar-b-que. Makes your mouth water just thinking about that bright orange fillet grilling and dripping on your grill. Now if only I can entice a bite.

[img]images/icons/tongue.gif[/img] I was born into my family late in my father’s life. He was 41. All of my siblings had grown and were gone by the time I had a sense of myself. That ended up being just fine with me. When I came along my father had pretty much stopped remembering the depression and its hardships. He started to relax a little, so I got a lot of his free time. We spent most of our time fishing. Living in the Pacific Northwest we fished for rainbow trout, cutthrout, and the mighty and elusive steelhead. At this time in his life he was no new comer to fishing, he had known its pleasures all of his life. He showed me the wonderessness of hiking for miles in thick brush just to see Cutthroat break the surface of a beaver pond. Fish a river for long hours for a chance at a wild hared steelhead. He was the only one I knew who could get a bucket, fill it from the spigot in the back yard, lay a fly on its surface and catch a rainbow. Then he would release it back into the bucket for next time. This time in my life was good.

When I was about 18 they found cancer in him. Lymphatic leukemia. There was no cure. At that time the doctors told us that he had maybe 2 years to live. Devastating for a man that worked hard all his life to raise 4 children, to put food on the table when there was very little and to love life as much as he seemed to. He ended up living for 7 years. The doctors were very surprised as when they dectected his cancer it had spread to most of his body. He wasted away like cancer does to so many. I have no answer for why he lived so long past the doctor’s expectation. I remember one thing he used to tell me often as we went off tracking down some lonely beaver pond or little lake when we should have been doing our chores. “Remember God doesn’t take the time away from your life you spend fishing.” As I look back I think that works out to be just about right.

My kids never knew my father. I taught my kids to fish so they would know a little of their grandfather and of course so they could live a little longer.

well jen as i told you once before
i learned to fish with my grandfather
in his little 14' boat trolling diamand lake
i spent many weekends with him and cousins
trying to find the big one
we never found that elusive biggie
but i learned a lot from him and will always cherish the times we had
he is now passed on so i try my best to fish as much as i can in his memory
probably not the winner but it's nice just to be able to tell it
bye
stu
[img]images/icons/smile.gif[/img]

[Jennie@ifish]

More stories! I just got the rod... Believe me, you want it!
Jen

[Gone Fishin]

Hey Jen,

You think we can get more rods for this contest? With all these great stories how are my family and I going to possibly pick one winner?

You people are great!

[Jennie@ifish]

I know, it's tough, Marty!
Last time Bill and I couldn't pick a tips winner that we did on the board years ago, and so we took the top ten and put them in a hat.
Just make sure the whole family is around for honesty sake. Sometimes it is the best you can do!
So many... are so good!
Whatever you do, I'm sure you'll do the right thing! That's why we picked you!
Jen

I would like to tell a story about how my dad taught me how to fish but he did'nt.Oh don't get me wrong he was a good father who worked hard all his life. He belonged to what is known as the "Greatest Generation" those who fought in World War Two. He never seemed to have time to relax and enjoy his life though. I lost him when I was 19 years old and have had 28 years of regret that him and I could never share a day on the river or lake and just be together. when I had boys of my own I was determined to be different and do as many things as I could with them. Hopefully fishing would be one of them. My oldest son took to it right away and has actually become a very accomplished fisherman in his own right! He makes me proud that way! He has a lot of his grandfathers attributes like being a conscientous hard worker but he also has learned how to enjoy fishing and hopefully he learned a little of that from me. Troy and I ahve definately had our ups and downs in our relationship over the years and he has had to endure more than a kid should have in his younger years but has become the type of person that anyone would be proud to have as a son. Recently I had a major health scare but when I recieved word from the doctor that everything was okay it just so happened that Troy and I had planned a fishing trip that very next day. Instead of having to tell him his dad my not be around for the birth of his first child we enjoyed the day being together and fishing. It's days like that I will always cherish and maybe be a little sad that I never got to do that with my own dad. If I were to give any man advice I would have to say NEVER take the time you should spend with your kids for granted! Make time and do it now. Next time theres an open seat in your boat take one of your kids. It's these times that they remember all their lives. One one hand I feel cheated that I was never able to fish with my dad but on the other hand I am very lucky to be able to fish with a son that I love very much and am so proud of the man he has become. He is also an excellent fisherman too and hopefully what little fishing wisdom I may have been to pass on to him has helped.
Stew

[Jennie@ifish]

TH Rods... I just looked at mine and it's beautiful!
Hoping that some new members will give this contest a shot. Just trying to make Marty's decision more and more difficult!
Jen

[Pete]

The Passing of a Heritage,
Why I Plan to Take My Daughter Fishing

It’s almost Father’s Day, a sad time for me because I miss my Dad terribly. He took me everywhere and made my life a wonderful adventure when I was little. As I approached adulthood a distance developed between us; my hot political temperment conflicted with his reasoned, conciliatory views. Only as I matured did I understand that we agreed on issues of justice and fairness … and I learned, too, that how those objectives are achieved matter as much as the ends. With this realization our bond renewed and our friendship blossomed. Just as our friendship matured as one between men he was taken.

I learned during walks through the woods or along the canal to see possibilities. His reading of Winnie the Pooh fired my imagination and created a place so real I can see it still, just beyond the sign, “Trespassers W.” It is a wild, damp forest of crunchy oak-leaf mulch and dewy cobwebs that caught my face as I rode Dad’s shoulders. My sense of place was established on our outdoor adventures. I learned to spot the box turtles tucked under decayed logs, to avoid the coiled leaf pile camouflage of the copperhead snake and to love the coolness of the early morning. I still pause to enjoy the gift of a vista through a break in the forest.

My introduction to fishing was at a small, stocked trout pond; the kind where you pay to catch voracious fish that fight like the dickens, but always succumb to a clumsy yank from the water. That experience didn’t spark my passion. I vividly remember the summers when Dad would pack the station wagon and haul the family thousands of miles to northern Quebec Province to a rustic fishing camp. We stayed in a rough hewn cabin where the rusted window screens never kept the flies or mosquitoes out, the red and white checkered oil cloth stapled to the kitchen table never felt quite clean and the smell of dead fish from the cleaning station a hundred yards away never quite faded.

Our hosts provided an old wooden boat with a small outboard. The heavily painted boards of the boat were slippery from the constant moisture of rain, dew and leaks, but it carried us on our adventures. We’d motor an hour down the lake to find little islands overgrown with blueberries, fearing a bear we never saw. From our new kingdom we’d cast daredevil spoons as far as we could, cranking them back in hopes of catching a pike or walleye. And we did catch fish, lots of them. Every night’s dinner featured breaded, fried filets of the bony white fish.

Nearly 20 years passed before we fished together again. I moved to the west looking for new adventures. I found rivers filled with wild trout anxious to take a fly. I caught salmon and steelhead, trapped crabs, dug clams and grew to love a land I never dreamed of as a child. I wrote to Dad about this place, my passion for it and it’s fish. We’d talk about it when I visited on holidays. Somewhere he felt the spark of my passion.

Finally, after he retired, he came west to fish with me. I took him to all my favorite places. We drifted the Deschutes and the coastal streams. I taught him to fish with a fly, how to drift a corkie and how to see where fish lie at the head of a pool below the riffle. And we found our friendship growing deep, reconnected through a shared love of wild places and the possibilities of fish. I cherished our new relationship, reconnected by a passion bestowed as a gift when I was young.

Now I have a baby girl of my own. She’s still too young to hold a rod, so I take her for walks in the woods and to see fish at the zoo. Her excitement at finding fish in an aquarium fills me with emotion. She laughs, points and shouts, “Fishy, fishy, fishy!”, her head cocked to see if I’m paying attention to her discovery. I am! I don’t know what paths her life will follow, but I hope one is a passion that always leads back to her Dad.

[ 06-12-2001: Message edited by: Pete ]

[ol tuna skipper]

My fishing memories started when I was a young boy in Idaho. My father loved to fish for steelhead and trout. It was not uncommon for Dad to pull off the side of the road and drop a line in the water, leaving mom and the 5 kids in the car. Mom didn't fish and most of the kids were too young at the time. Mom always woried about the rattlers on the Snake and Salmon rivers. Dad would usually bring Me and my older brother down to the river with him. Now I know he did this to see if he could spark some interest from us in fishing. Unfortunatly we were more interested in throwing rocks in dads fishing hole which ticked him off. Now I have kids that do the same thing, huh. I remember one particular vacation were we were camping at lake Cor De Lane (Spelling) and we had a five gallon bucket filled with trout when we were done. I still remember cleaning all those fish for dinner. Well Daddy passed away that year and I never learned enough from him. I was ten when we moved back to Oregon to live with my moms parents untill my mom could figure out what to do.

Grandpa became a sarrogate father and loved to take me and my brothers fishing to Hagg Lake. Grandpa loved that lake. Grandpa also took me on my first ocean salmon trip and several bottom fishing trips. The day he passed I visited him at the hospital, said my goodbye to him and then went out to the lake to fish in his memory. At about the time Grandpa passed, I found out later, I caught a beautiful trout that was the only one I caught that day. I said a prayer for Grandpa and released that fish in honor of the man who took me under his wing.

I had never really learned to fish well, but did learn to enjoy the outdoors and respect nature. I pretty much gave up fishing well into my early twenties. To busy going to school and working. A high school buddy got out of the Navy and started dragging me around the rivers for steelhead. I watched a lot get caught but never landed one myself. I just loved being out there. Started going by myself during days since I was working graveyard shift. Learned about the Trask, Wilson, Miami and other coastal rivers.

At about 28 I met Pilar and the world of fishing changed. Pilar taught me how to fish from a boat for the first time. We went Sturgeon fishing at Kelly point and landed forty some fish that day. We went to Astoria and landed a keeper Sturgeon while tying up our hearing. Then blasted out to bouy ten and had our limit in one hour of silvers. I was hooked.

After getting married, my wife talked me into getting a boat. Aren't I lucky. Since then I continue to fish and have been teaching all four of my children to fish.

Then pilar told me about march this year to look up ifish on the net. Well here I am, a devoted ifisher that is learning more now than ever before about fishing the great northwest.

Thank you Jennie and all you ifishers out there for sharing your knowledge and helping out those who never really learned how to fish but never gave up.

This is the first year I have ever caught a Springer and Shad. I would like to add Walleye to that list yet this year. Thank you to all who have contibuted to this message board. Now I am taking a few friends fishing that never learned how and we are learning together. The best friends I have ever had and have are ones that I fish with.

[Jennie@ifish]

Encore! Encore!
I think these are so wonderful!
Thought I would bring them to all the new registrants attention!
Go for it!
Jen

[KarenLee]

The passing of a Heritage.

My father taught me to fish. In doing so he taught me patience.

While fishing we never left trash behind. In doing so he taught me respoct for our forests and rivers.

When we had enough to eat we released the rest. In doing so he taught me preservation.

When he woke my brother and I in the wee hours of the morning to drive to the river, he taught me not to be too lazy so that we might enjoy more of life.

One trip I was pretty little and Dad went out on a late fishing trip with my older brother. He woke the whole family to show them his fish when he got home. In doing so he taught me pride.

All these things taught me what a man is.

When he passed I never felt so alone.

I will continue to teach my children the heratige my father taught me. There is nothing more important than being your childrens hero. My dad was mine and still is to this day.

I recently went to bye some fishing gear on opening day for trout. A 6 year old was picking out some powerbait. I said "going fishing huh". He replied, "Yeh, me and MY DAD are fishermen". This brought a tear to my eye.

[Jennie@ifish]

FIVE MORE DAYS!
Bringing this to the top so that anyone can enter before the deadline, June 30th, 2001.
Have fun, and Marty, I feel for you having to pick this!
Jen

[Hummingbird]

The Heritage of Fishing.
I was only 5 maybe 6 years old when I first got to fish. My Father was killed in an explosion when I was 2. My mother was a cook all her life . She was born with the name. There were 8 of us kids and she had to work 7 days week to make ends meet, sometimes 16 hrs. a day.My oldest brother was 10 years older than me.One summer day he took me fishing. We went down to the Gallitin River with his ploe and some worms we dug in the neighbors garden. When we got there ,he cut a willow stick a little taller than me. He put about 10 feet of line,cannonball sinker and a hook at the end. He then showed me how to put the worm on. I set down my willow pole and tossed the worm with the sinker and worm as far out as I could. He then said if I felt a tug to pull up on my willow stick hard as I could. It seemed like forever and nothing was happening. I was fussing about this and that and BANG!! the pole was almost jerked into the river. I chased the pole and got it before it was pulled in . ipulled up hard really fast and felt a pull at the other end. No other time in my life did I feel the feeling I had that morning. I was shaking and scared and delighted at the same time. My brother Steve came over to help me and just said grab the line and pull it in . I did . My first fish was a 17and a half inch Rainbow! I never seen a fish as beautiful as that.I wanted to let it go . He said to me that's okay, But how will Mom know you caught something. I told him ," I won't ,You will" . He just started snickering and laughed .
We didn't get to fish too much after that . He went in the Army in 1964 right after High School. We moved to Oregon that summer also.
He now is A Vice President of a Contractors Board for Nevada. I will always remember that day on the Gallitin River so many years ago. He taught me patience and respect for the outdoors. I plan on getting him up here to fish this fall if he can get the time off . He really wants to go for old times sake. He told me if he catches a Fall Chinook it's just cause he wants to catch one bigger than the big Rainbow I caught my first day of fishing.

[Jennie@ifish]

Almost over... Here TH rod!!!!! Here, TH!!!!
Oh yeah, I want another TH rod in my collection! Dang, they are so gorgeous I want to hold it in my hand all the time!
J

[Gone Fishin]

Man,

This ain't going to be easy...

Great stories!!!

Anyone else???

[sinker]

I won't go into the history why there is bitterness in family towards my father but one of his downfalls was he would rather spend his time with a bottle rather than his kids at the lake or the river.
He is still alive, although I won't spend any fall days on the river with him. This upsets me. The fact that we no longer have contact doesn't upset me as much as the fact that I won't be able to spend these times together.
Who taught me to fish?? That's a good question. Looking back I would have to say myself. As a young boy I was off to the small creek or pond down the road every chance I got. Fishing was in me, but there was no one to help bring it out. I would read every fishing article I could get my hands on. If there was a fishing show on TV I would watch it whenever I could.
A couple years ago I got into salmon fishing on a local river in the fall. I read everything I could but still had loads to learn. Every now and then I'd just set my pole down and watch what others were doing. I got some funny looks from them, but I learned.
My wife and I have a lovely 3 yr old daughter that loves to go fishing with daddy. I also married a woman that likes to fish. My daughter last fall was with me on the Carbon river in a pretty good rain. I asked her if she wanted to leave and go to grandma's. She just said no she wanted to keep fishing. This brought a lot of chuckles from a couple of guys near me. It made my heart very proud to see that she enjoys the outdoors that much. That was the first time I ever seen her not drop whatever she was doing to go to grandmas.

Back to the heart of the matter. Why will I teach my daughter to fish??
So she doesn't have to learn the way that I did, and in hopes that someday she will marry a young man that enjoys the sport and the outdoors as much as we do. Then I'll have a daughter and a son that I can share those fall days on the river with.

[Drachir]

Well here is my attempt at a family fishing heritage and how I got started, and how I'm passing it on to both my kids. I am a Native Oregonian, and have been fishing longer than I can remember. I caught my first Salmon at the ripe old age of 3 years. My Dad beleived in starting me out young, and granted it was only a 7# Silver from the Siletz, but by gosh I landed it by myself, and I have a photo to prove it. From that point on my Dad said I was hooked for good, and Oh was he right. Throughout my entire Childhood, we went from one end of Oregon to the other, Camping and Fishing our way to some of the most treasured memories I could ever ask for. My Dad started a Business when I was about 14, and then things changed a lot, and our fishing days ended, much to my dislike. I then started going to the Siletz w/ my Grandparents. They had a great Cabin near Coyote Rock, and every weekend in the Fall you would find us out trolling the ol' Siletz
spinning tales and otherwise having a great time. Then every Saturday evening we would head into town and play Bingo. I have some great memories of my Grand parents from those glorious days we spent together fishing and telling stories, and really getting to know them so well, that is a gift that most people just don't get in our busy lives. I will tresure those days forever, and will do my best to pass what I have been blessed with on to my children. My kids are 23 & 16 and are too busy with their lives to go fishing with ol' Dad much anymore. But we certainly have had a lot of great days out fishing, and they have both learned that Family is #1, and that's it, no exceptions! One day that I remember in particular, happened about 5 years ago. I went out early on morning in June, and put the boat in @ Clackamette Park's boat ramp, and went into the Lagoon just upstream to troll plugs for Springers. It was a very good morning, I got 2 in the boat by 7 AM. So I called home and got he wife and son to get up and come meetme at the ramp, and they did get there in about a half hour. They were both pleased to see my sucsess, and off we went back into the lagoon. We fished until 12:30 and by that time we had picked up a total of 5 Springers, the largest one caught by my 11 year old son, a beautiful 26# Chromer, and it was one of the hottest fish I had ever seen. It took us from one end of the Lagoon to the other, and around the boat countless times, under the boat, in the air several times and my son did the greatest job handling that fish, I was a very proud Dad! I have never yet heard the end of that day's story, how he out did his old Dad, and that is the way it should be, our lives are for our kids. We have shared many great days, and will spend many more together, but the memories I have of days shared fishing with family and friends, I would not trade for all the money in the world.

[Harvey Fish]

The Passing of a Heritage,
Why I Will Teach My Kids to Fish


My father and I seldom met eye-to-eye about things. He was raised in an abusive environment where he never knew love, he never knew affection, he never was allowed to express what he felt inside his heart. He brought these deep emotional scars into Fatherhood where he was confronted with the task of raising a son who was absolutely nothing like him.

He liked football, I liked soccer. He wore flannels long before the Seattle scene took off (some say he was grunge when grunge wasn’t cool), and I colored my white sneakers in lavish colors and was a drama freak. He had the equivalency of an 8th grade education and I was in advanced studies most of my life. He dated a lot in his single days, and I…well, I was discovering that all the cute girls in the drama scene usually already had girlfriends and therefore weren’t much interested in what I brought to the plate.

With all of the stark contrasts between us there was one thing that we could do together generally without conflict: fishing. His patience with this lanky, awkward, uncoordinated youth was virtuous. And once I mastered the basics we were able to share some relaxing morning and evenings on our favorite mountain lake or stream discussing the finer points of the art form we shared together.

It wasn’t until after I left the nest, married, and then a couple years later divorced that our relationship changed. My heart had been broken pretty badly, and I needed to get away from the world for awhile. On a suggestion from my mother I asked my dad if he’d like to go camping at our favorite mountain lake again. It had probably been close to 10 years since we had been up there, as he had changed his fishing interests from trout to steelhead, salmon, and sturgeon. He agreed to go, and we packed up my little Nissan two-door and headed up.

Our lake had changed drastically. Where before it was a first-come, first-served basis for camp spots, things had changed to making reservations months in advance. Luckily we found a small patch of ground just off of the beaten path to set up my small tent. We fished for awhile, but mostly we talked. It was the best talk that we had ever had together, and it was the first time where he opened up to me and told me that he did many things while raising me that he deeply regretted.

And then, he apologized.

Never in my 21 years had I ever heard him apologize to anyone about anything. It was a foregone conclusion that in any disagreement that he was right and you simply did not stand to gain anything from proving him otherwise.

After 21 years of never hearing “I’m sorry” from him, that one apology was huge. If we didn’t have fishing, we would have never gotten to this important part of our relationship. Maybe it was where we were fishing, with all the years of camping trips that we had spent up there wearing a soft spot in that hardened heart of his. Most likely it was simply that we were fishing, and that one bond that we shared together was strong enough to bring us together no matter how far apart our lives were.

I look forward to taking my children fishing when they are old enough. My love and respect for the beauty of the outdoors are feelings that I want to share with my kids, and fishing is just a small part of the overall picture. We’ll also go hunting for water bugs, crawdads, salamanders (mudpuppies is my childhood name for them), or anything else that they find interesting. Let them build their own love for the outdoors.

Fishing is a part of me, just like my eye color or my receding hair line. Maybe my kids won’t enjoy fishing as much as I do, and if that is the case then I can accept that. As long as they find a passion in something, and I support them in their passion, then I will have done right by them.

My son asks a lot of questions about fishing, and has shown great interest in going. I look forward to introducing him to fishing more than I enjoy fishing myself. It’s the sharing of the joy that means the most to me.

[will_e_fish]

The story has been told many times and like some fishing stories told different ways seems it starts with the magic pole and someone asking about and commenting how unusual it is... Dad got it from one of my Uncles that was in the war and I dont remember which one the Korean or the WWII . As I got older I asked about the pole and was told when I got older I could use it. I think it was my dads favorite and certainly became mine. Over 40 years ago in Wyoming and Colorado on creeks full of brookies,cuts,bows and browns or were they golden? My family, Uncles, Aunts,Sisters, Mom and Dad would drive for days hike up and over mountains to find that spot. It had seemed no one had been there before and needless to say the fishing was great... then time stood still it was an eternity as I watched the pools that held those finned painted beauties. Silently the magic had happened my dad and I were hiking from pool to riffle not really having to say much but "look at this"," can ya see this one"," will it take this ?" and " look out for this jumper". He taught me at first without saying much just by showing me and then came the words,do want to try the pole? I was never prouder when he let me use that fly pole and trusted me with the fly case my mom had made, full with the flies he and my uncles made. I dont think there was any flies that was store bought. My sisters were already on their own filling creels and in reality probably out fished us as the pictures document it. My mom and uncles holding their own trophies as well. Later as time passed me and dad took turns with the fly pole and discussing the merits of each bug and how a fish might take it or attack while the other fished. Precouis times like this I hold in my heart and made me realize fishing can be a team sport holding us togather like the strongest glue.

As time passes we moved from our pristine lakes and creeks of Wyoming to find a home in Oregon and here we were in awe of the big fish and the different fish. We tried everything but some thing only twice becuse we wanted to make sure we gave it a fair chance. Salmon being the prize to us the fly pole had taken a forced rest as it was much to light for the size of fish we now love. Mom always making sure we had enough frozen and canned, asked me when I was fishing next or did I catch any? She lived through my stories of how the big one got away but happy I brought some home. If I didn't she encourage me to try more or try harder next time. Shortly before mom died she asked when I was going out salmon fishing next. Dad had such bad glaucoma he could not see the eye of the hook, but we went catfishing and he knew where there were out catching me 2 to 1.While he was cleaning out the house to downsize after Mom left us we came across that fly pole.He did not have to say anything but as he looked at me I told him I would make sure I would share it with my children. His diabetes made him so cold down to bone he did not want to go out fishing with me my son and daughter.

My son and my daughter both know the best water and where fish are and have caught them.They are fast learners proud of what they know and I am glad that we have the time to do that. Being a divorced parent doesnt give me the opportunities I had but my children have learned some of the most important lessons about fishing and life. They know my passion for fish and respect for the water. They how the circle of life goes. They know they will be the keepers of our waters and keepers of that magic fly pole to pass on to their childern.

will_e_fish

[Elwood]

I have sent two pictures of my son with this story. One picture is of him at 8 years old with his first salmon. He baited the hook, cast, set the hook, and landed it, all without my help, (except some frantic coaching). The second picture is from last summer at 12 years old with three nice salmon he caught.

My childhood home was 30 feet from an Alaskan trout stream, and as much of my time as possible was spent pursuing those fish. From those days on that stream I seem to have caught this disease that requires me to invest countless days of my life in pursuit of almost anything with gills. When I was a child my father didn’t have much time to fish as he worked a regular job, and then spend the remaining hours on our farm to provide for our family of seven. Summers in Alaska are short, so one must be attentive to the crops.

While a teenager I got to spend a great deal of time with my father. The farm was paid off. He had several nice pay raises, and my siblings had all graduated and moved out. We begin to spend weekends and at least 1 full week together in Homer fishing each summer. I got to see the father none of my siblings did. He relaxed, and didn’t yell, even when I made “stupid” mistakes. All the best things in my dad came out. We visited together. We would often take evening walks together around the small boat harbor, dreaming together of bigger boats to own, and future trips to take. It was hard to get close to my father. He lost his mother as an infant, had an unpleasant childhood bouncing between his father and grandparents, and spent WWII in Europe from D-day in Normandy all the way into Germany. My real dad was private and reserved. He opened up during the times that we spent in Homer, and became a great man to spend time with. I learned about being a man from him during those times together.

Of the many trips that we made, one halibut trip stands out. The bottom that day must have been carpeted with them. It was a race to the bottom. The first one down had a fish on within seconds, and I made it to the bottom 5 times before my dad. As soon as I had the fish on, he would reel up to keep from tangling our lines. He would unhook my fish and at the same time I’d re-bait and be heading for the bottom before he could pick up his rod. We spent hours catching and releasing countless halibut all about 20 lbs as we were after anything over 30 lbs. We laughed and had a wonderful time throughout the day.

My father died from cancer the year after I graduated from college. I only got to take him out once that summer. I still miss him now, almost 17 years later. He would have loved sturgeon fishing.

I now have a great son. I am trying to teach him how to fish, and he seems to have some early symptoms of the fishing disease. I am hoping he will see the father that isn’t pressured by the day to day world, and that he has fun in the process. Maybe he will see the best of the grandfather he never met, in me.

Elwood

[Gone Fishin]

These stories are wonderful!

We don't have a clue how to pick just one winner.

You have today and tomorrow left to get your story in for a chance to win a great rod.

And tomorrow you should be at the IFISH cleanup so you better enter today!

-Marty Peterson and family [img]images/icons/smile.gif[/img]

CLEANUP

[Hoosier Daddy]

Well, I would really love to enter this. But my daughter is still 2 mos out from being born. Technically, I have taken her fishing, but I haven't "taught her to fish" yet!

[Jennie@ifish]

Marty,
There are SO many good ones, that I think you should do the hat thing.
Put all the names of entries in a hat, and choose?
Up to you, but I think this would be tough, so many good ones!
Jen

[ 06-30-2001: Message edited by: Jennie@ifish ]

[Jennie@ifish]

Hoh boy! Tomorrow is the day, eh, Marty?
Who who who???
I can't wait! You have until midnight tonight to get an entry in!!!
It's in my closet, in a tube, unwrapped. I haven't even seen it! Argh! I want to OPEN IT!!!! I won't!
Jen

[fishinlady]

For 3 years I travel with a theatrical production seeing many places, rivers, etc. It was a short stay in Green River Wyoming where I bought a fishing pole, asked alot of questions and caught a bunch of trout one evening. I've been hooked ever since. A few years later I became a single mom, playing basketball, etc and taking my son fishing. By the time he was 12 or 13 he had other ambitions. I will not forget his friends coming over for a weekend of birthday activites hoping we would be going fishing. My son was a trooper and we went fishing, however I think he would have preferred Malibu Grand Pree. I got involved with a ladies fishing group focused on educating woman and families about fishing. (Back then I did alot of bank fishing and now spend most weekends with friends on their boats) As vice president chose to included the ODFW master angler program into the groups community support programs and a few of us gals began teaching at various youth group homes. Lots of stories can be told of the smiles and accomplishments of these kids and their expereinces fishing. Then I joined the ANWS and volunteered in the many programs their organization supports and spent many hours fishing with alot of great folks. As a whole they are a group of wonderful people doing alot of great things for the fishing community. Fishing for salmon, steelhead and halibut has become my preference over the years. I now have a granddaughter, 14 months who may become my fishing buddy. I think her dad would have alot of fun stories to share with her about his growing up fishing and camping with his mom.