Family Post: Fishing and More

A fishing trip with Sebastian soon became a rolling rocks, getting rained on, taking shelter in the truck, getting rained on again, seeing a rainbow, and running around trip. It was the best.

Family Post: Birth of an Angler

My grandson Sebastian was with us over the weekend. It was high time to load up with worms and supplies and go fishing again.

You might recall that on his first trip we didn't catch anything, and Sebastian fell in the lake. I wondered whether that might dampen his enthusiasm for this trip. No worries. He was eager to get his hands on his fishing rod again.

This time the dock was free, and bluegills were back in numbers, schooling in its shadow. We baited up and Sebastian went to work. It wasn't long before he caught his very first fish ever. Let the record show that he achieved this milestone at three years of age. Way to go, kid.

He threw it back in himself, and went back to work again, and, yep, caught another one. (Thanks, bluegills.) He tried to throw this one in, too, but he discovered those needle-like spines in a gill's dorsal fin, and decided throwing fish back in was Grandpa's job.

Catching them was his job, and catch them he did. I didn't keep count, but I'd say it was seven or eight. Maybe more. He was a fishing machine.

(I think he takes after his Mom, my daughter Lidia. She used to fish with me at Trout Lake, and did very well, including a 20+ inch Rainbow caught on a little caddis dry. My hope is to get her and Sebastian to Trout Lake for some fishing from the canoe. Can't wait for him to catch a trout.)

I decided we should try another lake where he might be able to graduate to bigger bluegills. We got there and set up on a canal where my son Jeremiah and I used to have luck. As I was baiting the rod Sebastian discovered what Jeremiah had discovered before him: there are lots of good rocks here to throw in the water.

I cast the bait out into likely spots, but we got nary a bite. So we moved down to where the canal enters the lake and tried there. No bites here, either. But Sebastian didn't care. It was a hot day, and there was a perfect place for wading. So first his shoes and socks and jeans came off.

Then his shirt. Someday he will be able to say truthfully that he's been fishing since he was in diapers.

Finally everything came off and he was Mowgli by the jungle watering hole. (Jeremiah, in his day, went in at this exact spot.)

Meanwhile, nothing was biting. It was finally time to go. He really didn't want to leave, so I promised him we'd go fishing again the next day.

And we did. We went back to the dock, ate some lunch (say "Cheese!") and then offered some lunch to the bluegills.

Sebastian knew just how to do it.

Bingo.

The smile says it all. I think the population of anglers has definitely increased by one.

Sebastian's Baptism Into Fishing

I had been planning this for awhile, and the opportunity finally came. I took Sebastian out on his very first fishing trip.

He was so excited he took a power nap on the drive so he would be in peak condition for the fishing.

It was a pretty afternoon, in the 70's. The leaves and blossoms are popping out all over.

Sebastian wouldn't wake up when we got to the lake (it had been a busy weekend and he was due for a good nap.) So I took the opportunity to rig up his new rod. This is actually his second rod. He had a light-up Spiderman rod before, but he was a little rough on it before we ever got to try it out, and broke the tip off.

This new rod is a pretty little thing, and it has no connection whatsoever with any superhero or kid's movie. There were plenty of those at the store, so I held up a Marvel Heroes rod and this plain one, and he chose the plain one. Nice one, Sebastian.

I checked on Sebastian again, and he still wasn't ready to wake up. So I broke out the crawlers and gave the little rod a try. I wanted to see what we were up against here.

We were at Bass Lake, and in the summer it's choked with bluegills and perch. You can't beat them off with a stick when you show them a bit of crawler on a hook. I was hoping that might be Sebastian's first experience of fishing, but we were still a bit early. There were no fish to be seen, and I didn't find any by prospecting around as far as I could cast.

I checked Sebastian and this time he woke up. It took him awhile to remember where we were, but then he was eager to hop down and check things out. I showed him how to reel, and went over again the particulars of the hook, the bait, and the bobber. Especially the bobber: keep your eyes on that bobber. Then I cast it out and let him reel it in. He handled it well.

There was a good sign at that point: as soon as he had reeled it in he tried to cast it out again all by himself. He took a vicious swing with the rod. Almost caught me with it. So I helped him cast, and he reeled in, and he was digging it.

We moved over to another spot on the shoreline, and I was encouraged again to see him running, eager to get there. I set him up on a little outcropping, and we went at it again. He kept a sharp eye on the bobber.

And then he fell in. That outcropping was the only level spot on the steeply sloping bank, so I thought he'd be safest there. But he took a step just a little too far to the right, his foot slid into the water, he lost his balance, spun around and sat down in the lake. He didn't like that.

I had been thinking about how to deal with his disappointment at not catching anything, or, worse, with his getting bored after awhile. But that wasn't necessary. It was clearly time to quit.

I told him on the way home that Grandpa had fallen in lots of times (not lying), and that all fishermen fall in sometimes. I also talked about the next time we go fishing--focusing on the fish we'd catch on that trip (also not lying--I'll make it happen). By the time we got home he could tell his Mom and Grandma that he fell in and smile about it.

I'd call that a real baptism into fishing. We'll see if he's like me, but if he is, he's thinking, "Dang! Just when I was getting the hang of it, I fall in! Can't wait to get out there and give it another try."

Some Wisdom From Facebook

Take Your Kids Fishing In 2016

Closer to the Ground: A Review

If you fly fish and have small children, the book Closer to the Ground: An Outdoor Family's Year on the Water, in the Woods, and at the Table, by Dylan Tomine, may be what you're looking for.

Here's a nicely-written review by Matt Stansberry (The Caddisfly: Oregon Fly Fishing Blog).

Dylan Tomine

Closer to the Ground: Parenting, fly fishing, food

When Patagonia wrote me a note about reviewing Dylan Tomine’s book Closer to the Ground, I had no idea how much I needed this book.

A lot of us know Tomine from his articles in The FlyFish Journal or The Drake, and I thought “I need another fly fishing book like I need a hole in my waders. With three kids under six, I’m barely fishing as it is, and I really don’t want to feel worse about it than I already do.”

Turns out, I was wrong. The book describes how someone addicted to fly fishing might shift focus and retain a connection to the sport, but more importantly, the spiritual core of the experience, of the land and its wildlife.

Read More.

Lake Lemon Report: Tops

I'm going to miss the lake opener at home tomorrow, but I went fishing today.

I'm in Indiana visiting my daughters and grandkids. Iris just turned two, so she, her mother Laura, and I went to the store today so she could pick out one of her presents from Grandpa--a fishing rig. I had been thinking of it, but wondered if Laura would think she was too young. So I was glad when Laura herself brought it up. Laura and I had some good fishing trips together when she was a girl.

Iris ignored the pink princess poles and went straight to a red and yellow Cars rig. Good choice.

After lunch we went outside and dug some worms. We were ready for Iris's very first fishing trip.

This is Lake Lemon. Laura called it a little lake but it's pretty good-sized. There were guys out in boats looking serious about their early season tactics.

We rigged up and cast out. I baited the hook and did the casting and Iris held the rod and learned how to reel in the bobber. She liked that part.

She knew from what we had told her that the bobber would move when a fish ate the worm so she kept a sharp eye on that bobber. But it didn't move.

Iris got a little bored after awhile, so Laura picked up the rod and cast out..and down goes the bobber. Laura hasn't lost her touch.

A largemouth bass, or what Laura once called a "loudmouth bass" when she was little. Iris was very impressed and excited, agreed that the fish was very pretty, but did not want to touch it. We put it back into the lake and watched it swim away.

We decided to take a walk along the lake shore, but before we left the bank I tried a few more casts. Nope. Laura outfished me again.

We wandered down to an overlook and Laura and Iris spent some time throwing rocks into the water.

Iris got crazy with the multiple launch.

But it was finally time to walk up that beautiful green hill and head for home.

I'll have some great fishing trips this season, but I'm sure I don't need to tell you that none of them will top this one.