My Clever Grandfather

There is a commercial for a Lincoln SUV featuring Matthew McConaughey that starts with him setting the temperature in the SUV at 78 and then going out onto a frozen lake and cutting a hole in the ice to fish through. He sets up a gadget with a pole and then opens the back of the SUV to sit just inside on the tailgate. Quickly there is a flag on the pole on the ice that pops up indicating that there is a fish on the line. All of this happens while The Andy Griffith Show theme song whistles in the background.

Clever yes. But so was the system my grandfather used for fishing. Grandpa was no slouch. He worked in his garden and out in the yard at the house my parents had on Lake Erie where he stayed most of the year. He would take his fishing pole to the dock and cast the baited hook and line out into the water. He would then secure the handle of the fishing pole into a pipe he had affixed to the dock so that the pole would stand up. At the top of the pole, just where the line came through the last eye on the pole, he would tie a piece of ribbon to the line.

As Grandpa went about his work in the yard, he would keep an eye on that ribbon. If the ribbon was pulled down, he knew he had a bite and maybe even a fish hooked on his line. With a big grin on his face he would reel in either a nice perch or bass or he would mumble something about a fish who'd stole his bait--often in his native Bohemian.

Fond memories. Not only might we enjoy his catch which he often smoked in the little smokehouse he built but we'd have some nice veggies to go with it as well.

FIshing?

Growing up in a family that was fanatic about fishing, I had a fishing rod in my hands as soon as I could hold one. It has stuck with me even though I don't get to fish as often as I did growing up. I married a guy who doesn't mind fishing as long as someone baits his hook and takes the fish off.

Some of my grandchildren though have inherited the fishing gene and I do get to indulge in the sport on occasion. Some of our Florida grandkids enjoy fishing so this past couple of weeks I've gotten to sit with them and drop a line in.

From the dock at the condo complex, there's not a whole lot to catch that has much size to it. Grunts, the occasional snapper, maybe a small barracuda and even a needle fish. I always tell people we're catching appetizers. Although they are too small to keep, they are still fun to hook and reel in.

Shark fishing (excluding hammerheads) is legal in Florida and one night a friend invited our grandson to bring a couple of fish heads and fish for shark with him. Both the friend and the grandson were ecstatic when he hooked into a sand shark about 35 inches long and reeled it in. A couple of pictures and it was released.




One morning though I had quite a time with a small needle fish. I had caught a good sized one a few days before but this one just kept swimming up on top of the water. He would follow my bobber as I reeled my line in and nip at it. Then as if he knew it, he would hustle after the line as I brought up whatever might be left over of my bait on the hook. If I hung the bait over his head, he would swim in circles waiting for it like a puppy dog waiting for a treat. Yes, I was teasing the wildlife.

When we were done fishing, I tossed in what was left of my bait and he was rewarded for his patience.

It's okay, fishy. I'll have the hook
out in a minute.

Oh, about the question of fishing. I was fishing. My grandkids were catching. They certainly had me beat by numbers.

Pelican Patience

This year I broke down and bought a Florida fishing license. I bought a non-resident-three-day for when our grandson visited but ended up committing to a year long license a few weeks later. It will be good for our return next year and I am enjoying the peace and quiet that sitting and watching a bobber brings on a warm calm day.

Now I've had plenty of fishing buddies in the past. Growing up there was my dad, my mom, my brother, the kid next door and my grandfather. I've even fished with the guy who hates fishing, Bob. He goes once in a while as a concession to me. Of course the next generation, my grands, are fishing some too. Our Florida grandson especially and he was no slouch when it came to hooking fish. By the end of our fishing time together he was even taking them off the hook by himself.

Fishing on the dock here in Florida is a bit crowded at times though. You see when the pelicans spot a fishing pole, they flock to the dock and wait. The first time we were surrounded by a half dozen. The more that came, the more they closed in on us and started grunting. The grunting was to tell another pelican to back off. We tried not to feed them our catch but unfortunately several didn't make it back into the water soon enough and were scooped up which only made the pelicans more determined. So much so that one got tangled in my line. I was about to cut it when all of a sudden he shook it off. I think he'd had some experience.

This morning I was out fishing on my own. The Florida grandson is back home. I thought it would be a little lonely but sure enough, a pelican that was flying by spotted my pole and the bobber in the water and made a u-turn. He settled in the water about 20 feet away from the bobber and watched it with me. There seemed a glint of optimism in his eye. Certainly he was being quite patient. But then that's the sign of a good fisherman: patience sprinkled with optimism. It paid off for one of us.

The Fishing Expedition

Our Florida grandson is a fishing enthusiast to say the least. The first visit to our condo this year was not satisfying since the weather didn't cooperate. When it was time to visit again, we planned for a better day and a trip out on a party fishing boat.

We checked the weather the day before we were to go out and it looked good so we made our reservations online. The boat was certified to hold 49 passengers and by the time we were ready to start out, I'm sure there were at least that many on board.

While the temps and sunshine were great, the wind had changed direction on us and by the time we were out of the channel, I knew it was going to be a challenging day. Thankfully I'd taken my meds the night before and I knew Bob and our grandson would be okay with it.

There were not enough rods in all the appropriate holes where they were kept. Actually, I don't know that there were enough holes on the side of the railing for 49 rods. Extra rods were handed out and bait boxes placed strategically among us.

While we were to yell, "fish on," if we caught one, there was no offer to bait hooks which Bob had counted on. He took a deep breath and plunged in, baiting his hook well enough to be the one to catch the first fish in our threesome. Of course when he yelled "fish on," I was the only one around to take it off. So between taking fish off for him and helping my grandson bait his hook and taking the fish off for another lady who kept catching them left and right, I didn't get a whole lot of line in the water time.

Oh, did I mention the wave action? I was sure my middle was going to be black and blue from bouncing against the railing. It was difficult to hold on to the railing and the pole. I was amazed that my grandson did so well.

And did I mention that when we went from one spot to another, the waves splashed against the boat so badly that I was soaked head to toe? Bob and my grandson went inside a crowded space where others had taken refuge but it was at the back of the boat where the crew had told those who were feeling ill to sit. It was less distance over the side to the water if you were sick and downwind. There were quite a few "passed out" on the benches. It did entertain our grandson though who felt a bit smug to know he had an iron stomach.

The four hours passed quickly but being tossed about, wet, and elbow to elbow with people, rods, reels, and hooks, I was ready to hit the shore.

There were eight pieces. I didn't get a picture soon enough.

Back at the condo, I went online got a Florida fishing license and my grandson and I sat on the dock and fished together the rest of the afternoon and the next morning. We caught lots more fish and had a great time watching the pelican watch us hoping we'd toss a fish their way. We managed to save four grunts and I filleted them for lunch. They weren't very big but at least there was enough to say we ate our catch.

It's all in the memories.

World Cruise - Piranha Fishing ?

Piranha fishing? Are you kidding me? Turns out he wasn't. Bob knows I love to fish but really, for piranha? He went ahead and booked our excursion from Santarem, Brazil, as we travel the Amazon on one leg of our World Cruise.

I've seen piranha in aquariums enough times to know they are nasty looking critters. So I went on my own "excursion" to see what I could find out from others who have gone before. I found one comment on a Cruise Critic forum and then another report from a blogger who added pictures and gave a good description of the excursion.

Apparently along the way you see villages and flora and fauna of the area as well as an interesting phenomenon where two rivers flow together, one brown (the Amazon) and one either blue or green (the Tapajos). Then you reach Maica Lake where you do the fishing.

Both descriptions of the fishing said that the hook was already baited (raw meat) which will make my husband happy. He's a fisherman as long as someone baits the hook and takes the fish off. I'm with him on taking the fish off this time. I don't think I want to handle a fish with teeth like that.

So, if you want to hear how our fishing trip goes, stay tuned right here. It should take place sometime around April 26. I don't think this is a catch, freeze, and send home deal though. No matter. I'm packing extra bandaids though.

A Little Nostalgia - Ice Fishing with Dad

With a grandfather and father who were avid outdoors men, fishing and hunting whenever they could, and a mother who learned to fish in self-defense (besides, at that point she was smitten with the guy), is there any reason to doubt that I would love to fish? I grew up with a fishing pole in my hand. My fondest memory of fishing with my dad though was the time he took me--just me, the daughter, not the son, out on the ice of Lake Erie to go ice fishing.

Our winter weekends were spent at Put In Bay, OH, and once the ice was thick enough, a village of ice shanties would appear on the ice covered water. People actually had old cars usually with doors removed for a quick exit that they would use to drive onto the ice, plant their shanty, and return to fish in it until the ice began to melt as weather warmed.

When my dad invited me along, I was so excited I could hardly contain myself. A whole day on the ice with my father fishing! We took the old car out onto the ice and parked it a safe distance from the shanty. Grabbing our gear, we stepped carefully to the door and stowed what we needed inside and out. Dad had brought a few pieces of wood and a couple of large chunks of coal to stoke the fire he started in the little tiny potbellied stove inside the shanty.

The ice shanty was about the size of a playhouse for kids. It was framed in wood that was covered in treated heavy duty canvas and had runners on the bottom. You couldn't stand up in it. The stove sat in the middle of the floor at the back wall, a hole in the floor on either side of it and a bench opposite each hole to sit on as you fished. Heavy white twine was anchored to the beam above each hole and  looped with a rubber band that allowed you to see the matchstick tied at eye level bobble up and down when a fish bit on the hook.

Live minnows were the bait of choice. I was careful to hold on tightly as I baited my hook since I knew Dad would get frustrated if I let too many get out of my hands instead of on the hooks. We dropped our lines in the water shortly after our arrival and just about the time that the little stove began to pleasantly warm the shanty. Eventually we sat in shirt sleeves in the pleasant little shanty.

We caught a lot of fish that day and tossed them into the burlap bags that hung from hooks in each corner opposite us. When we ran out of bait, Dad showed me how to pop the eye of a fish out and use it for bait. This girl was no prima donna. Whatever it took to fish, I was ready for it.

At noon, Dad pulled out a small iron skillet from the sack beneath his bench and reached in a little cooler for some kielbasa. We ate warm sausage sandwiches, munched on chips and apples and held each other's meal when a fish needed to be pulled in.

All too soon the day ended and we headed home. I think he was proud of me that day. He always grinned when he was proud and that day his grin wide, he said to Mom, "She's a real fisherman." I could not have received a greater compliment.