Friday, July 3, 2009

Fishing Newbie

5:00am, and it’s a start of a perfect day, regardless of the weather. The four by four packed, the coffee steaming and for once Steve is on time. Two grown men and we were as excited as two kids on Christmas morning, it was, after all the the first day of bass season.

Steve is a nice guy, quiet and amiable, the kind of guy you would invite fishing before you really thought about it, which I did, and then be glad you had, which I was. Turning the volume down on the radio, I offered Steve a smoke and ask him how much bass fishing experience he had.

“None”, “None?” “Nope” “You mean you never fished?” “Not ever.” This was a mind- blowing concept on par with aliens from another planet. I couldn't wrap my brain around it. My dad was always busy with work while I was growing up and I can still remember any number of camping and fishing trips we went on throughout the province of Ontario.

Steve was near my age, somewhere in his mid thirties and the idea of him never so mush as him throwing a line in with a worm on a hook for a sunfish was staggering. As we continued to drive, he went on to tell me that his father was a soldier and was not home very much. While other boys were pitching tents and playing baseball with there old men, Steve and his dad never spent mush time together.
I tried to smile and nod with appreciation, but I am not sure that I succeeded.

The truck went silent and as I sat there, driving down the highway in my new pick up truck, loaded with my fishing rod, tackle box and a jumble of other fishing supplies, I felt a little sad for Steve. I determined then and there that Steve was going to catch a bass today, and I was going to show him how.

Once the truck was parked, the gear unloaded and assembled, we walked over to the lake to learn the basics of the casting. Steve turned out to be the best type of student possible, quick, attentive and with absolutely no preconceived ideas as to how things were done.

Well I couldn't believe it, after only a few cast, Steve gets a big bite, he was yelling like a crazy man “ What do I do? What do I do? I told him to calm down and just pull back on the rod lightly and reel it in, nice and slow and he did, as he brought it to shore, I couldn't help but have a big smile on my face, his eyes were open real wide and he was smiling from ear to ear, he caught his first large mouth bass and it was a good four pounds. I showed him how to lip the bass and to take the hook from its mouth, it was probably just as exciting for me as it was for him, I will never forget the funny faces he was making when he pulled her to shore.

I would see this expression a lot today, he caught six large mouth bass, a couple of black crappies, and a yellow perch, and I haven’t caught a bloody fish yet. So I left Steve to his fishing as it appeared that he was getting the hang of this sport very quickly, I moved down the lake a little farther and I had to fight my way through the bush, the only thing that was biting for me was the mosquito's and the black flies.

After a couple hours it started to rain so we decided to pack it in for the day. It was a great day for Steve and a day I am sure that he will never forget. On the drive home we slapped hands like a baseball player after hitting a home run and Steve looking at me smiling said “ Jack if you need any fishing lessons I am free on most weekends and would be happy to take you again sometime.”

Jack Bennett Jr.

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

The Old Mans Lucky Lure

The Old Mans Lucky Lure

The Northern Pike is one of my favourites, I have been fishing for Pike for as long as I can remember.
I started fishing with my father when I was barely old enough to hold a fishing rod. By the time I was ten I was fishing on my own and loving every minute. That was the same year my uncle Dan, who was six months my senior and should have known better, and I decided to raid the old mans tackle box and borrow Lucy his lucky lure.
The taboo Red Dare devil in hand Dan and I worked our way down to one of Ontario’s many hidden lakes, our secret spot tucked in behind the family cabin.
We spent most of our summers growing up around that lake and I could probably write a book about our adventures, as there were many. Dan and I tied up our lures and full of youthful confidence began to cast.
It wasn’t long, maybe five or six casts, and I get a hit. WHAM! Typical of the mighty Northern he hit hard and bent my rod to its limit.
“ Bring it in slowly Jack, be careful, give him some slack”, Dan yelled, doing his best to keep me calm. Then SNAP; there goes my line, my hopes and worse, Lucy, the old mans lucky lure.
Dan, knowing quite well that I was in a jackpot, laughed anyway and even went so far as to rub it in. But like a true angler he continued fishing casting in rabid fire now. And it paid off, another strike and Dan’s line was all over the lake.
Now it was me doing the hollering as Dan played out the monster fish and after what seemed like an eternity pulled the exhausted pike onto the beach and into our excited grasp. Then our awe quickly turned to disbelieve. Not only did Dan catch the biggest pike ever pulled out of Horseshoe Lake but also embedded in the pikes side was Lucy, my Dads lucky lure.
The family still talks about the big pike caught that day and Dad still has Lucy.He can often be seen holding and admiring that dented scratched up tooth bitten lure and telling anyone who will listen about how lucky it is. Another of the old mans believes is that its better to let a sleeping bear lie, and I agree.

Jack Jr.