Johnie Gall 9/30/2016 I’m on a perpetual quest to simplify my life. I keep my inbox at Ground 0, each correspondence neatly sorted into a file or—as I prefer them—permanently deleted. I have exactly two flannel shirts, four pairs of jeans, and five sports bras. […]
Month: September 2016
Andy Whitcomb 9/29/2016 My wife and I are raising two anglers. More than merely a hobby, this simple pleasure will be there for them if they want to seek a thrill or escape anxiety. Watching my kids’ excitement from fishing helped me remember the magic […]
Septiembre y Octubre son unos meses llenos de celebraciones, entre ellas las de la independencia de muchos de nuestros países Latinoamericanos, tiempo de reconocer nuestra identidad y nuestras raíces, esas fechas llegan también con la celebración del National Hispanic Heritage Month, este del 15 de Septiembre hasta el 15 de Octubre donde a lo largo del país se conmemoran las contribuciones que nosotros los hispanos hacemos a los Estados Unidos.
Precisamente este 24 de septiembre también fue celebrado el National Hunting and Fishing Day, y en diferentes estados el país se abrieron las puertas para que toda persona que quisiera, pudiera sin licencia, el arrojar su caña de pescar a ríos, lagos, o dentro de las aguas continentales de los Estados Unidos al este y al oeste.
My family is visiting from México, y que mejor tiempo para hacerlo, pues en este Mes de la Herencia Hispana es grandioso recordar como era nuestra vida en nuestros países, y revivir la forma de interactuar al 100% en nuestro idioma y nuestras tradiciones para reconocer aun mas el valor y las aportaciones culturales e intelectuales que brindamos los Hispanos aquí.
El museo del parque que hemos visitado (Itasca State Park en Minnesota), muestra una exhibición con fotografías e historias, imágenes de la creación del mismo, y eso me recordó al esfuerzo que el gobierno esta haciendo por promover el Centenario de la Creación de los Parques Nacionales por el Presidente Roosevelt, y que ahora en el aniversario, el gobierno del Presidente ha hecho hincapié en invitar a todas las comunidades, incluyendo a la comunidad Hispana, a ser parte de la historia y visitar con mas frecuencia todos los fantásticos parques nacionales que el país ofrece.
Durante nuestro paseo en este parque estatal, hemos tomado un bote pontoon (perfectos para viajes familiares) y entre platicas, risas y la brisa al deslizarnos en el lago, reflexionamos sobre lo bello que es el salir y conocer nuevos lugares, al mismo tiempo, la lluvia de recuerdos nos ha llevado a comparar las actividades al aire libre que solíamos hacer juntos en el país de antaño y los lugares que frecuentábamos. Llegamos a la conclusión de que no hay mucha diferencia y que el deseo de experimentar nuevas actividades y lugares es simplemente un impulso natural y muy humano.
Por suerte estamos junto a un lago, y ese impulso nos ha hecho despertar temprano para admirar el paisaje y sentir la brisa de la mañana sobre nuestros rostros junto al muelle. Hoy el clima no permite del todo salir en el bote, pero seguramente estaremos pasando algún tiempo aquí afuera de nuestra cabaña, disfrutando del aire libre rodeados de decenas de arboles y nos encaminaremos hacia la orilla del mismo para lanzar con los niños unas carnadas.
Si todo funciona como planeado, completaremos con lo pescado, el meal de la tarde. Un poco de fried fish, o quizá para seguir con el espíritu de celebración del Mes de la Herencia Hispana, de un buen y delicioso ceviche estilo Nayarit, quizá al estilo Peruano.
Vamos a Pescar! Encuentra más información y aprende de lugares y de métodos para pescar tú mismo, visitando los artículos e información en español del sitio web https://www.takemefishing.org/es/
You Might Also Like
Debbie Hanson 9/27/2016 Hey fishing fans! It’s Debbie Hanson for takemefishing.org, and today we’re going to learn how to tie the third knot in our series on fly fishing knots — the non-slip loop knot. This is a great knot to use for tying your […]
Tom Keer 9/26/2016 There are lots of knots to know for all types of fishing. When it comes to knots for fly fishing, many that you already know are useful. Add a few specialty fly tying knots to help your presentation and you’re good to […]
We’ve spent a ton of time shore-side over the last year or so! As our family has taken more and more steps to prioritize outdoor adventure in our lives, we’ve been fortunate to log quite a large number of hours with a pole in our hands and a meaningful conversation in the air. It’s amazing to me to see our boys grow up and spend their time thoughtfully, intentionally, developing new skills like fishing and boating.
The kids have learned a lot from these experiences, and Nate and I have learned a lot from them in turn.
Our friends at Take Me Fishing™ asked us to weigh in on some of our favorite tackle-inspired lessons, and we thought it would be really fun to have the kids share their own thoughts. Their young minds are gleaning important new perspective every single day. While I tend to focus on details and timing, their insights have been real lessons that will stick with them for life.
Here – according to them – is what our kids have learned from fishing.
Photo Credit Chelsea Day
Mind the hook! The first time we showed him a fishing pole, Sidekick immediately noticed the “pointy thing” at the end of his line. Being 4 years old, he promptly freaked out and it took a little prodding to get him anywhere near the dang thing. These kids, man, they have some pretty intuitive smarts once in awhile. We showed him how to take care and only hook his intended fish as opposed to…himself. He learned a valuable lesson in the process: always look up, look out, and be aware of your surroundings.
It’s okay to get wet. Our kids’ personalities are all very different, and it’s so fascinating to watch how they respond to new situations. The oldest is a calculating type, seeking information and reasoning to assess whatever is unfamiliar. The middle is a charming sort who seeks the path-of-least-resistance, generally quick to walk away at the first sign of discomfort. And then there’s the baby, our big bundle of love who barrels his way through anything and everything. He’s not much for maneuvering a pole, but anytime we’re at a stream or a lake he reminds us of the go-getter attitude that’s necessary to succeed in this particular skill and in this world. You need to get out of your comfort zone to live your best life (and get the best catch)!
Photo Credit Chelsea Day
Fish don’t all measure up. Life – and your pole – may not hand you what you expected. That’s okay. Keep trying.
Photo Credit Chelsea Day
Don’t cross lines. This is one thing I really, really love about the fishing community. They’re not afraid to have a word with your kid if he’s going against the grain or getting in the way. Fishing, much like family, is a very community-oriented sport with people spreading unique knowledge and local learnings along the way. To me, that’s as it should be. Anything worthwhile in this life tends to take a village. So do your best to position yourself well, but be considerate of other people. If you play your cards right, they might even share their catch over the campfire.
Right bait, right fish. This one’s easy. Be prepared!
What has fishing taught your family?
You Might Also Like
Debbie Hanson 9/23/2016 You’ve been checking out the fall boat show schedule and have plans to attend a few in your state. While you’re certainly excited about looking at all of the boat models and features, there might be another big benefit to attending these […]
From the time I could walk and talk until I turned six, I would exclaim, “I AM FOUR!” whenever someone asked, “How old are you?” I pretended to be many things as an imaginative child, including four. There wasn’t anything magical about four – it was just my favorite number for some unknown and random reason.
During the several years when I was four, I often saved the galaxy from the dark side, trained to play football for the “Bear,” fought pirates while hunting for treasure, and hid beside the cross ties under the plum tree in the back yard while waiting to hear the screaming of the worn belts on Dad’s old brown Ford as he turned into the driveway so I could scare him and hopefully convince him to join me on an adventure.
Dad worked on the railroad throughout my childhood. The work was difficult and the hours were long, especially with the overtime he worked on nights and weekends to provide for our family. Even though he was often gone, Dad always found or made time for our family. While I truly cherished every second I spent with him as a child, I will never forget one special afternoon with Dad in late summer when I was four.
I was desperately trying to save mankind in an epic space battle beside the closet in my bedroom when I was startled by the loud creaking of our old red back door opening. Mom was in the other room, and it was too early in the afternoon for Dad to be home. I sat in the floor petrified with terror strategizing on how to defend and protect the house, especially the toys, from the intruder until I heard Dad yell, “HEY COR!”
Relieved, I jumped up, ran through the room dodging the toys in the floor, and hurdled through the door jamb onto the faded vinyl floor in the kitchen, just barely missing Dad. He was standing by the back door grinning when he looked down at me, grabbed my shoulder, and asked, “Do you want to go fishing, Bud?”
I had always fantasized about joining Dad on a fishing trip and could not believe that the dream was actually coming true. I immediately yelled, “YES!” For the first time, at four, I felt like a man and could not have been prouder or more excited.
Dad had filled the minnow bucket and the cricket tube, packed snacks, and taken care of everything for our adventure. We told Mom and my sister Sunni bye and took off to a spot Dad had found near Crybaby Holler on Flint Creek that was a short walk off of the railroad tracks down a gravel bank.
My excitement grew with each passing second as we drove to the fishing hole. I jabbered the entire way and was ready to pop when Dad finally put the Ford in park on the gravel path. As soon as the dust cleared, we jumped out, unloaded the car, and started walking down the railroad tracks toward the creek.
Dad carried all of the gear as I balanced on the rails and scanned the area for pirates. When we finally arrived at the steep gravel bank, Dad somehow held me, the minnow bucket, the crickets, a Zebco rod and reel, and the rest of our gear as we slid down what felt like a rock mountain to our fishing hole.
Dad spent the day showing me how to fish, which consisted primarily of skipping flat rocks, catching dragonflies, and fending off pirates. It was my day, and Dad did everything he could to make and keep me happy. He showed the patience of a saint and didn’t mind that we weren’t catching fish, which was likely a result of me scaring away every fish in a ten-mile radius.
Photo Credit Corey Jenkins
The blue sky was showing hints of the violets and oranges of dusk when Dad turned to me and said, “Get ready for the last cast.” With Dad’s help, I baited the hook with a cricket and made a cast downstream just past the point where the creek bent to the right.
The ripples on the surface had just settled when the red and white bobber bounced slightly and then ripped to the left. Dad scrambled to help me set the hook and then coached me through the fight. I screamed with excitement as the fish tested the limits of our equipment and my fishing skills at four.
After a long and draining fight, Dad stepped into the edge of the creek and landed the small bream. I will never forget the look on his face when he turned, held up my first catch, and said, “Good job, Son.” I will also never forget the deep and complete pride, excitement, and satisfaction that I felt after catching that first fish and making Dad proud.
Dad showed me how to hold the fish and take the hook out of its mouth while standing by the creek as the sun disappeared for the day. He then patted me on the back and said, “Let’s let him go.”
Through all the excitement, I had not realized that Dad was planning to release the fish. I unsuccessfully attempted to hold back the tears as I looked up at Dad and pleaded, “Dad, can’t we keep it?” Dad explained that the fish was too small to eat and that we needed to release it. Devastated, all I could do was stand on the bank of the creek and cry.
My emotional pleas to keep the fish eventually changed Dad’s emphatic “No” to an “OK, Son.” We put the bream in the minnow bucket to keep him alive and headed back to the brown Ford to go home.
When we arrived home that evening, everyone made a big production about the fish. I wanted the night to last forever. When Mom asked, “What are we going to do with your fish,” I immediately responded, “Can we put him in the bathtub… please?”
Mom and Dad looked at each other with concern and skepticism and discussed whether to put the fish in the bathtub. After begging, “Please Mom” and, “Please Dad” for some time, they reluctantly agreed to fill the bathtub in our small bathroom with water so the fish could swim around.
I sat by the edge of the bathtub watching the fish swim when I looked back at Mom and Dad and asked, “Can I keep it as a pet?” Mom and Dad attempted to gently tell me no, but I wouldn’t stop the pleas until I was given a good reason. Mom lightly patted me on the back in the way only a loving mother can and said, “I’m sorry, Baby, but you can’t keep the fish because the water is too dirty.”
The tears that only a four-year-old can cry poured out at the realization that I couldn’t keep the fish because the water was too dirty. Mom and Dad left me in the bathroom with the bream to say goodbye. I was furious, devastated, and heartbroken that the water wasn’t clean enough for the fish.
As I sat on the floor between the toilet and the bathtub staring at the fish, grieving, and coming to terms with the loss of the fish, the realization that all I needed to do to save the fish was clean the dirty water hit me like a ton of bricks. I scanned the bathtub and the rest of the bathroom desperately looking for something to clean the water. I was about ready to give up when I looked up and saw the answer to my problem.
I nearly hit my head on the underside of the porcelain sink when I jumped up to grab the bottle of Dawn dish soap sitting on the edge of the sink. I figured that if Dawn could clean dishes, it could also clean the water, allowing me to keep the bream forever.
I proceeded to dump the entire bottle of Dawn in the bathtub and turned on the water. Mom and Dad came running into the bathroom when they heard the water running and me shouting.
To their surprise, the bream had gone from swimming in a tub to floating upside down in a bubble bath. They simultaneously asked, “What happened?” I looked up at Mom and Dad and said in an exasperated and confused tone, “I cleaned the water with the Dawn soap to save the fish, but something went wrong.”
Mom and Dad ran out of the bathroom as quickly as possible. At the time, I thought they were figuring out how to revive the bream. I found out later they had left so I wouldn’t see them laughing.
That evening, we buried the bream beside the cross ties under the plum tree in the back yard. It was an emotional night to say the least. I shed many tears under that plum tree, both that night and later as other beloved pets joined my first catch.
As I sit here many years later, I can still smell Dad’s old brown Ford and hear the screaming belts that needed replaced. I can still see the drooping fabric on the roof, the microwave in his back seat, and the mismatched golf clubs and tools in his trunk. I can still feel the wind in my hair as we drove down the road with the windows down, which was necessary since the air conditioner never worked. I can still remember the pride and excitement that I felt because Dad took me fishing when I was four. I will never be able to thank him enough.
Photo Credit Corey Jenkins
Thanks to Dad, my love for fishing was born next to a creek alongside railroad tracks in North Alabama when I was four. On the same day, I also experienced my first loss and learned how not to clean water. Most importantly, Dad taught me at four the fulfillment of spending time with others in the outdoors and the importance of making time for your children.
You Might Also Like
Andy Whitcomb 9/19/2016 September. 24 has been designated “National Hunting and Fishing Day.” Or as I like to call it: “Saturday.” However, it certainly doesn’t hurt to remind some folks that there is a great outdoors, and it needs to be conserved. Wildlife Conservation Promoted […]