(Ive been coughing and splurting since I got back, too many people packed into a plane and all them germs flying around its no wonder you catch something--and jet lag doesn't help either)
But I had a great time.
No river fly fishing where I was,right down South,go across the Detroit river and you are in the USA,
just big lakes filled with perch, pike walleye etc.
I was based on the banks of Lake St Clare at the mouth of Belle River an ideal place for just casting your line sitting back and relaxing in the sun waiting for things to happen.
Its not too hot this time of the year,mid twenties and with a bar just up the track from where I was fishing,nice ice cold beer-what could be better.
I bought a little rod and reel and took my 5 year old grandson fishing for the very first time and he loved it.That got me thinking about the first time I went fishing,my grandad took me-here is my little story.
I think I was still in a pushchair when my grandad first took me down to one of the many small lochs that are dotted around Edinburgh.
We would go there to feed the ducks,I'm not sure how the fishing came about,it must have been by seeing other children doing it I would think.
A bamboo cane with a net on the end and a jam jar to put the fish in, that was the usual method to catch sticklebacks.
Not for me,my grandad showed me the proper way-with a worm and fishing rod.
My set -up consisted of a short section of cane as the rod, a length of thread tied on the end for the line
On the end of the thread he would tie on a little safety pin and then impale a nice juicy worm
(no hooks needed) dangle it in the water to entice the fishies to grab hold of the end of the worm and try and quickly whip them out the water into the jam jar.
Some of the sticklebacks let go and fell back in the water but with a little bit of luck you could get a nice few swimming around in your jar.
I think I wanted to take them home to show my mum but my grandad made me put them back.
He said "they will only die if we keep them in the jam jar for too long and they are to wee to eat,so we will put them back- maybe we can catch them again next time".
That's where it all began for me.
They say that every picture tells a story-well this one certainly does
62 years after my grandad took me fishing. I introduce my grandson-his first ever fishing trip and his first ever fish. A fisher is born? I hope so.
So that's it,end of holiday for this year,back to my favourite Clyde-wonder how it is fishing?
Do you think I enjoyed myself?
No comments:
Post a Comment