Guest Entry: Smallmouth Fishing for the Young Angler

Today I received a story about the strong memories a father had when he caught his first fish. His excitement on that day was only surpassed when his son caught his first fish.

Jonah gets a helping hand showing off his first fish

When Ian was nine, his family spent a few nights at a summer resort with few activities for the mind of an active child. During dinner he snuck out of the dining room to check out the dock. In his hand he held an uneaten bread roll from the meal. To Ian's surprise he found a simple rig on the dock. It consisted of line wrapped around a rusty tin can. At one end of the line Ian squished some of the bread roll onto the hook. As Ian began to uncoil the line from the can he became doubtful that he would ever catch a fish. As he turned to walk away from the dock, the can began bouncing towards the water. Ian caught the can and pulled on the line. To his amazement a small catfish emerged from the depths and began to flop on the dock. Then it wriggled it's way back into the water. Ecstatic, Ian ran back to his parents and began to recount his tale.

Many years later Ian saw a similar reaction from his son Jonah, as the boy landed the first fish of his life. He and his son had been fishing from a boat in the waters of the Pohick bay, a brackish, tidal area of the Potomac bay. Jonah's pole bent with the first tugs of a smallmouth bass. As Ian looked at his son he felt deep emotions stir within him. In Jonah's eyes there  was only pure happiness and excitement that would continue to last for days.

Sometimes seeing other people catch fish and watching the incoherent excitement and joy on their faces for several hours later beats catching the fish yourself. Having your own personal wins are great, but sharing the moments of widespread happiness with the people you love can create a greater fulfillment.

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Guest Story: Traditional Fishing in Japan

Today, I received an E-mail from Alan Bergman, an avid fisherman who lives in Japan. He brought me a story of family tradition and an example of how fishing can bring generations together.

Alan has three grandchildren: Sara, Rei, and Roi. Both granddaughters, Sara and Rei caught their first fish before they were three years old. They created the tradition of the Bergman family in which every child catches their first fish before the age of three.  As Roi neared the deadline, Alan realized that it was time for his grandson to catch a fish. He began driving Roi to Ozenji, a trout fishing area set in the lush hills of suburban Kawasaki.

Roi with his first fish at Ozenji

When Roi and Alan stopped near Ozenji, they looked up at the sky and observed the dense rain. However, young Roi was undeterred, such was his thirst for fishing. Soon, Alan was helping his grandson Roi attach a delicate olive-green marabou nymph to the pole. With Grandpa's guidance, Roi was soon smoothly casting his setup into the water. With a sudden jolt, the first fish of Roi's life was fighting on the end of the line. Alan gave encouragement and praise as Roi guided the trout to shore. Several fish later, Roi was ready to go home and cook his fish. The family went home with smiles lighting up their faces.

The first fish someone catches will stick in their mind for many years. The fish may grow in weight and evolve into a legend. However, the occasion was unusually special because Roi's grandfather was there to praise him and give encouragement. I actually think that it is fine that Roi's fish were kept. Bringing home fish and eating it extends the celebration and glory of the child's first catch. Children want the recognition and praise from as many people as possible. Glory and praise is part of what makes fishing so enjoyable.

Roi and his cooked catch

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Rockfish at Santa Cruz

A couple of weeks ago, my grandfather and I decided to go on a rockfish fishing trip. While this would be a first time experience for my grandfather, I had gone on a couple boats before. Usually I would convince a friend to take me to the Farallon Islands. There the rockfish swarm in thick schools, where even the most novice angler can make a catch. However, this time my family thought that we would try to fish closer to the house. This prompted us to make reservations with Stagnaro. They own a boat called the Velocity, a sixty-foot fishing boat that operates out of Santa Cruz. At six in the morning the boat left the harbor with fifty fishermen eager to catch fish.

My limit of rockfish at the Farallon islands

The first leg of the voyage consisted of demonstrations and proper rigging etiquette while we journeyed out to the fishing grounds. When we arrived the air was chilly, the wind is strong, and the morale is high. However as my grandfather and I fished throughout the day, it became apparent to me that Santa Cruz and the Farallon Islands were different. One difference was that in Santa Cruz the ocean is shallow, while around the islands the ocean is deep. Unfortunately, the big difference is that the fishing is much worse in Santa Cruz. When I fished in the Farallon Islands I couldn't keep the jumbo fish off the hook. In Santa Cruz I struggled to catch a single fish as my grandfather pulls in two rockfish. However as the day wore on I get an
idea for where the rockfish are holding, and my catch rate improved. We ended the half day trip with a combined total of fifteen rockfish, eight for me and seven for my grandfather.

The grand total (my grandfather and I) of rockfish in Santa Cruz

What I got from this expedition is that no two experiences are the same. Fishing is filled with failure and only a few pockets of success. Your times will be unique as each trip continues to surprise you. The days can be filled with success but eventually there will be a time when you fail, sometimes losing it all. Never fall into a pattern and expect the same thing each time. Be flexible so that you don't dwell on what you have lost, but minimize your loses. If you experience times of failure do not be stunned when good things come your way. Seize the opportunity and use it.

A man and his pelican

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Three Generation of Fishermen

After CC's success my father and grandfather decided to try to catch a trout at lake McAlpine. The lake is located near Santa Cruz. Unfortunately, fishermen have to pay twenty dollars per person to get in. In the morning (7:00 A.M.) it was quite chilly, and a low fog hung over the entire area. I was looking to catch a bass, but had made it no farther than twenty feet when I heard my grandpa shouting. A minute later I netted a trout.  That was the first trout my dad and I had ever caught at Lake McAlpine. We had gone four times before and gotten skunked. Back to the trout. After we put the trout on a stringer the fog burned off. This killed the trout bite. My grandpa, dad, and me (three generations) walked around the lake fishing for bluegill. Hours later we had a combined total of 110 bluegill. I had caught seventy, my dad had caught thirty, and my grandpa had caught 10. All in all it was a good day of bluegill and trout fishing. 

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