07-14-2006, 07:37 AM
[black][size 1]I can't really remember the first fish I ever caught... But I vividly remember the first THING I ever caught. I was 5, and I barely knew how to tie my shoes, but for some reason (must be in the genes) I knew that without a doubt I really liked fishing. [/size][/black]
[black][size 1]My family and I were at Crystal Lake near Cheyenne Wyoming a warm summer day. There I was poised on the lake shore pole in hand, a big old warn out crank bait thing with like 5 big treble hooks all over it that I had borrowed out of my dads tackle box (I'll never forget the smell of that tackle box, 10 year old dry cheese things called trout nibbles made of macaroni, we never caught a thing on them, but hey they had to work, after all they were called trout nibbles, right? Old dried out marsh mallows, dry flies and even some live flies, and that one crank bait. I mean the contents of that box only saw the light of day maybe 2 times a year). The rig, a very old bait caster that my dad seemed very fond of, or so it seemed because he kept telling me, "leave that old thing alone!" It was old, not much line on it, and he had already threw out my offering on my new zebco set up, but I couldn't resist honing my skill with an actual bait cast reel! [/size][/black]
[black][size 1]I scanned the lake surface to see where I would like my cast to land, and also checked the immediate area for my dad who would thump me good if he saw me with the old bait cast in my hand again... A fish rose within casting distance, and I thought a double arm behind the back cast would land my lure near the hungry little trout. I reared back and let the lure fly.....[/size][/black]
[black][size 1]I kept watching the surface of the water thinking that any second the lure would touch down and I could begin my retrieve, already planning a quick couple cranks to get the lure to dive, then maybe a stop and go, something that I had only heard of. [/size][/black]
[black][size 1]Then, for some reason I remember feeling pain coming from the back of my head... ACK!!! I had made THE mistake of all mistakes. I had buried like three of the five hooks in the back of my head! I remember thinking that maybe enough tears would convince my dad that I had been punished enough already, and he would take it easy on me! [/size][/black]
[black][size 1]Then as I was working up a good batch of tears [/size][/black][black][size 1]I saw a possible way out of this mess! There was a man fishing near us, maybe just maybe he could remove the hooks from my head, and what my dad didn't know might never hurt me... [/size][/black][size 1]The guy, a very helpful kind man was trying gingerly (with no luck) to extract the hooks from my head with some high tech needle nose jobs. [/size]
[size 1]"Sorry kid, man that must be hurt like crazy! Dang those things are really sunk in there!"[/size]
[size 1]The pain was a heavy thudding now and tears were falling quietly like leaves from a tree... Then all at once both the man and I were startled like deer in the head lights, when a deep booming voice (my dads voice) said "GIVE ME THE PLIERS..." It seemed funny at the time, but for some strange reason, this guy is just as afraid of my dad as I am! [/size]
[size 1]Needless to say those hooks were out in a jiffy! I remember seeing that pole and reel for the very last time, almost sailing out of sight when my dad threw it as far as he could, it made barely a splash when it finally landed in the middle of the lake. [/size]
[size 1]Not a very productive trip at all, but it was painfully clear to my dad that even at such a tender age, his youngest son was without a doubt hooked on fishing! [mad] LBD[/size]
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[black][size 1]My family and I were at Crystal Lake near Cheyenne Wyoming a warm summer day. There I was poised on the lake shore pole in hand, a big old warn out crank bait thing with like 5 big treble hooks all over it that I had borrowed out of my dads tackle box (I'll never forget the smell of that tackle box, 10 year old dry cheese things called trout nibbles made of macaroni, we never caught a thing on them, but hey they had to work, after all they were called trout nibbles, right? Old dried out marsh mallows, dry flies and even some live flies, and that one crank bait. I mean the contents of that box only saw the light of day maybe 2 times a year). The rig, a very old bait caster that my dad seemed very fond of, or so it seemed because he kept telling me, "leave that old thing alone!" It was old, not much line on it, and he had already threw out my offering on my new zebco set up, but I couldn't resist honing my skill with an actual bait cast reel! [/size][/black]
[black][size 1]I scanned the lake surface to see where I would like my cast to land, and also checked the immediate area for my dad who would thump me good if he saw me with the old bait cast in my hand again... A fish rose within casting distance, and I thought a double arm behind the back cast would land my lure near the hungry little trout. I reared back and let the lure fly.....[/size][/black]
[black][size 1]I kept watching the surface of the water thinking that any second the lure would touch down and I could begin my retrieve, already planning a quick couple cranks to get the lure to dive, then maybe a stop and go, something that I had only heard of. [/size][/black]
[black][size 1]Then, for some reason I remember feeling pain coming from the back of my head... ACK!!! I had made THE mistake of all mistakes. I had buried like three of the five hooks in the back of my head! I remember thinking that maybe enough tears would convince my dad that I had been punished enough already, and he would take it easy on me! [/size][/black]
[black][size 1]Then as I was working up a good batch of tears [/size][/black][black][size 1]I saw a possible way out of this mess! There was a man fishing near us, maybe just maybe he could remove the hooks from my head, and what my dad didn't know might never hurt me... [/size][/black][size 1]The guy, a very helpful kind man was trying gingerly (with no luck) to extract the hooks from my head with some high tech needle nose jobs. [/size]
[size 1]"Sorry kid, man that must be hurt like crazy! Dang those things are really sunk in there!"[/size]
[size 1]The pain was a heavy thudding now and tears were falling quietly like leaves from a tree... Then all at once both the man and I were startled like deer in the head lights, when a deep booming voice (my dads voice) said "GIVE ME THE PLIERS..." It seemed funny at the time, but for some strange reason, this guy is just as afraid of my dad as I am! [/size]
[size 1]Needless to say those hooks were out in a jiffy! I remember seeing that pole and reel for the very last time, almost sailing out of sight when my dad threw it as far as he could, it made barely a splash when it finally landed in the middle of the lake. [/size]
[size 1]Not a very productive trip at all, but it was painfully clear to my dad that even at such a tender age, his youngest son was without a doubt hooked on fishing! [mad] LBD[/size]
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