Transformation of a Fisherman: Part 2

Looking back on that first fish experience, it is easy to see my shortcomings as an angler.  No, not in regards to the fish I caught, the shortcomings have to do with me.  My attitude towards other's fishing abilities were extremely critical without ever saying a word to them.  These thoughts circled in my head constantly.  By the age of 6, I was catching way more bluegills than my cousins.  In my 6 year old opinion they were terrible at fishing.  I hardly even fished the pond that they all lived around.  I lived an hour away and all I had to do was show up and fish were caught.  Life was good.

As an arrogant 6 year old my summer's were always split between Connecticut and Vermont.  I was a lucky "Little Shit" as my mom would say, as my Grandfather had purchased a house on the Lake Champlain Islands before I was born.

If I remember correctly we had an unpainted 14' sylvan or grumman deep V tin boat with a 9 horse Merc. on the back.  It was an adventure every day on Lake Champlain.  My dad would come up every weekend and my brother and I would stay all week with my mom and grandmother.  I don't think I ever had the chance to fish with either of my grandfathers, but the thought of doing so today is something I think about often. Anyways, my dad had fished with both of my grandfathers and learned their techniques.  Old school, proven, techniques not realistic for the 6 year old.  Thankfully those ways were skipped for my brother and me.  My dad had also been fishing his entire life and learned from his cousins about spin fishing.  It was more convenient for pond fishing in CT, while the trolling gear was set up for walleyes and salmon on Champlain in VT.  So what I learned was a combination of the two.  Spin casting and trolling using spin gear.

My dad did so much of what makes up who I am today and some key things as to what I know as a fisherman.  He worked long hours in construction, chasing jobs all around CT.  He always scouted the surrounding areas for potential fishing spots, and would bring my brother and I along on weekends.  The other thing he did was to reinvent fishing for himself, a break in tradition.  Breaking the molds that had made him.  Which would set the foundation for myself to eventually break the boundaries of my own fishing career.

At the Hartford, CT fishing show (when it used to be good) small vendors sold baits, the little guys who think up ingenious things were present and trying to make a buck off their inventions.  My dad was kinda stingy when it comes to money and buying "things" but he also has an impulsive gotta have it now attitude.  We were on our last aisle where it seemed as though we were headed to the car to go home.  Two booths that I will never forget, Penn reels and some weird guys with a lot of soft plastic baits for sale.  My dad bought me my first spinning reel, a nice light penn reel that I would use for a long time.  Then the worm guy had lead jig heads and mister twister style grub tails in boxes.  At least a hundred thousand of them in all colors.  My dad saw the smoke with salt and pepper flake and I had thought he found a gold coin on the floor.  He bought a bag of baits none of which he ever used before, and after that disappeared from being my fishing partner for awhile...

The Transformation of a Fisherman: Part 1

At first I did not know why my grandmother had led me to the garden to dig up worms.  A chock full o'nuts coffee can sat in the moist garden soil by her side.  I remember scraping my knuckles on the stones as we dug, then following my Gram while pulling dirt from under my nails.  For some reason, it always seemed as if the most big worms were always near the string beans, and the little ones in the compost.  Gram led me to the water's edge and I watched water rings disappear slowly in the pond.  It was a plastic red and white bobber with something holding a slimy night crawler beneath it.  She handed me what seemed like a stick and told me to hold it and watch.  I wasn't sure what I was watching for, maybe the geese, a bullfrog, I knew what those things were.  Then I heard some excitement, "Matt you've got one, reel it in!"  Then I felt it in my hands, the same excitement.  Something got me.  The bobber was darting around, left and right, under and up, it was pulling and so was I.  I cranked and cranked until the bobber was stuck at the end of my stick, and my Gram pulled it in.  She said it was a bluegill, she showed me the colors, its gills, and took the hook out.  She let me touch it and then said it's time to let it go.  Gram placed the bluegill back in the water and it sped away fast.  It was incredible.