My dad is a hobby collector. He's always into something new. Growing up I remember things like photography, golfing, jewelry making, rock collecting, music collections and the list could go on. But the one constant is fishing.
My dad is true fisherman. The "I'd rather be fly fishing" statement that surrounds his license plate says it all. I have so many fond memories fishing with my dad. Many of our family vacations were planned around dad's fishing trips. I remember camping in the middle of nowhere in bug infested places all for the sake of catching a few fish. Luckily, I like camping and I don't really mind bugs so I always had a good time. My poor sister Jeri on the other hand was tortured several times as she is not the outdoor enthusiast that I am.
We all remember fondly the trip to "lost lake" because we really got lost trying to find it. We followed a dirt road forever in search of this little lake because my dad heard that the fish were biting. We had to run several cows off of the road at different intervals just so we could continue on our way. Even they didn't want us to find it.
Most of my memories involve me entertaining myself while my dad was busy trying coax the fish to his line. I recall throwing a stick out into the water for a dog to fetch over and over. I loved animals and this dog and I were instantly best friends. I remember my mom's homemade zucchini bread covered in frosting and snuggling up to her in her crocheted sweater that she always wore. My sisters and I kept ourselves entertained by throwing rocks into the lake. The ripples in the water predicted the weather for the upcoming week. We would explore in and around the lake for special treasure we could take home. Special rocks, pieces of weather worn wood, or other miscellaneous prizes would find their way into our pockets.
During ice fishing season we found the best hills to sled down. We shoveled the snow off of the ice to make our personal ice skating rink. We mastered the use of the ice agar to drill a hole through 2 feet of ice. I think we may have caught a fish here or there but more than anything we just liked being with dad.
Even as I recall these experiences the memories flow together as if to make one long fishing trip. Even the smell of fish reminds me of the long drive home after a day spent at the lake. The smell of fish permeated the car the entire ride back. A strangely successful feeling, as if all the hectic incidents were worth it. I look back now and realize that these trips were our family glue.
These experiences are a part of who I am and I would love my girls to share some of these moments as well. I would love for them to have this special bond with grandpa.
Grandpa has bought them their first fishing poles. (Pink of course.) Now we've had our first trip to the fish farm where they've each learned the thrill of reeling in their own fish. I am happy to report that they had no qualms about handling the flailing animals. Ok, well I don't think they actually touched the fish, but they didn't scream as they brought them out of the water which I take as a good sign!
All in all we had a fabulous day with grandpa and the cousins. Hopefully we'll have many a more fishing trips in our future.
One of the many fishing trips taken with my dad as a young girl. I know you appreciate the color scheme used in my outfit.
Madi's first catch!
Does Ty's hand touching the pole as Jon reeled it in count?
Grandpa is bribing Tyli with a quarter to buy a treat if she'll take this pictures with him. She agreed, but on her terms...absolutely NO smiling!
A very successful day!
