Whats the funniest thing you’ve ever seen on the water?
I was lucky enough(I write this giggling at the memory)to witness a good friend of mine let go of his rod on the back cast.Kinda like when you pretend to throw a ball and drop it behind you,he just let go and sent the rod flying downstream behind him.His expression was priceless!
I don’t know about funniest but I still laugh when I think of a now departed good friend and neighbour I used to fish with.
This older fellow was a walking tackle shop. If there was a gadget or fishing product made, you could find it clipped strapped or tucked somewhere in his vest. I once told him if I had to carry him out of the stream it was him or his vest (sadly one day, that turned out to be the case)
However,one Trout opener we were fishing a quiet part of the stream in knee deep water when I hooked about a 5lb rainbow that went skyward several times and took turns running up and down stream.
My friend waded out to scoop him in the net he always kept attached to the ring at the back of the neck on his vest. His wife in putting his gear at the door that morning , had tied the net quite short, not on the usual shock cord he was used to. He stood in the way of the rainbow’s run and as the fish went through his legs he lunged down to scoop it up. The short cord stopped him short of the water and the trout steamed through his legs down river at quite a speed. Not wanting to lose this fish I correctly held the rod high over my head causing the line to ride up quite high in his family jewel area. I watched as he howled like a wolf backing up at a double step right into a hole in the gravel behind him and went down like the Titanic. It was quite some time before we both stopped laughing and a wonder he could stand up with all the hardware he was carrying. The funny thing was the fish was still on and landed and released. I still smile when I think of that trip and that memory has replaced some rather grim images in my mind.
Cheers Dave , wherever you are Buddy.
DuFf
Some days it’s just not worth chewing through the restraints…
[This message has been edited by Duffin Boy (edited 03 June 2005).]
[This message has been edited by Duffin Boy (edited 03 June 2005).]
Last weekend I was fishing with my girlfriend and we were floating down a river in a canoe. We had been catching some nice sized smallmouth fairly regularly. I got a hit that felt like all the others and I set the hook hard on 4 inch smallie. So I basically backcasted a fingerling with a #6 Clouser smackdab into the middle of my girlfriend’s head and the fish ricocheted back into the water where the fish proceeded to put up a short but noble fight. She was pretty mortified, but I could not stop laughing.
When I was younger before getting into fly fishing, my uncle took me out on his boat fishing somewhere off Long Island area. I remember it was a tough day fishing and the highlight was when my uncle leaned over the edge of the boat for some reason. Just as he did he was bit by some huge bug which caused him to yelp and smack his leg. The best part was his face when he realized he just threw his rod over board. The first minute or so while he cursed and swore we were all silent, until he started laughing. Man, that was great…
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Adam,
On more of the “I told you so” class …
A few years ago, a friend asked me to show him the ropes for Atlantics. We found a nice spot in prime time where he could practice casting (although he was quite good) and learn a few techniques. He was more into learning the tricks than REALLY connecting, as he knew the chances of actually connecting are not the same as trout fishing.
He showed up with an adequate #6 rod (10ft), but I mentioned that the reel was a tad small and lacking backing. I offered to him one of my ?loaners?, but he declined. The rod was new and he really wanted to use his own stuff. I insisted a bit saying that on a Salmo salar river, ? any cast can connect to the FISH OF A LIFETIME .
A couple hours later, on a swing, HE CONNECTS. The water was a tad high so running down the beach wasn?t an option. My friend looks at me, at the line, at me,? at the line (which is spooling out at the speed of light). The +25 lb salmon jumps 3-4 times as it headed for another zip code straight down the run and into the rapids. Never looked back even once.
I could tell from the look in my buddy?s eyes that all he was thinking was about the large capacity reel that was in the truck (which he had declined).
Sure enough, soon as he got spooled, Pop goes the line where the backing is tied to the spindle.
Not only did he lose the fish, but also the fly (mine), leader, line and all of his (inadequate) backing.
He has since been ?hooked for life?. I get the feeling he goes out now trying to redeem himself going after bruisers in search of that same salmon. (sort of the Ahab of the river now)
Christopher Chin
Jonquiere Quebec
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[This message has been edited by fcch (edited 03 June 2005).]
it wasn’t funny at the time, but it is now, looking back on it. i was floating a section of the grey reef on the north platte river in WY last summer with a couple of friends, and was fighting a nice, fat rainbow. about halfway through landing the fish, i was leaning over the edge of the boat for some reason, and my reel fell right off the rod, directly into the water, into what seemed like a very deep hole. my buddy in the front of the boat had the good sense to grab the net quickly, scoop it up, and hand it back to me. i screwed it back on, and landed the fish.
i now check my reel’s security to the rod more often…
chris
Last year, about this time, on my first trip of the year to the Susquehanna for smallies I dropped anchor and started to get my gear ready. All of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye I see something flying towards me and am hit in the shoulder with a 17" bronzeback. My fishing buddy’s jaw about hit the floor of the boat. We thought we were in for a great night, turns out that was the only fish we “caught”.
Parton’s tale reminds me of something that happened to a friend of mine a few years ago.
Seems said friend was float tubing. He put the rod across the front of his tube while he tied on a fly. As can happen, the rod fell into about 15-20 feet of water and my friend was left with nothing but the fly tied onto the tippet in his hand.
He began to retrieve his gear, first the tippet and leader, then 60’ or so of line, then 250 feet of backing had to be hand over handed until finally in came the rod and reel. It took him well over an hour to untangle the birds nest around his tube.
He uses a rod tether now.
Snow on the roof but with fire still in the hearth
In the 1950’s, my grandmother owned a summmer cottage in a low-end summer community on Long Island Sound. To make ends meet, many of the owners would rent their cottage for one or two months. We usually played with the renter’s kids and became fast friends before the month was over. On weekends, when everyone would be using the beach, parents sent the kids down to the beach early to stake out the family plot with beach umbrellas and blankets. You could instantly tell where your friends could be found simply by looking at the colored umbrellas. Ours was red and white with fringe.
On this particular day, one of the new middle-aged renters showed up at the beach early, intent on doing a little bottom fishing. His tackle was a sad collection of rusted Penn Reels and thick boat rods with rusted reel seats and a missing guide or two. He carried an equally beat-up tackle box and a pail with his 3 dozen sandworms. This was back in the days when sandworms could be purchased without taking out a second mortage on your home.
He wore only a dark, baggy bathsuit and a ridiculous, floppy grass hat that belonged in Freeport not on Long Island Sound. He presented an amazing sight to my friends and me because his totally untanned skin glowed almost ghost-like in the bright, clear morning sun. We watched as he stroll purposefully through waist-deep water to the moored rowboat that came with the rental house. He stowed his gear, grabbed the oars and rowed to the “Blackfish Hole” at the end of John’s Rock.
We forgot about the renter for the next four or five hours as we swam and played at the beach. Just before 1:00 p.m., we recognized the awkward rowing style of our returning fisherman and watched him rehooked his boat up the the mooring. He was, of course, half cooked from his exposure to the sun. The term “Lobster Red” doesn’t even begin to desribe the degree of sunburn on back and shoulders. We watched as he gathered his rods, tackle box, bucket with his catch while sitting on the boat’s gunnel (edge). With his gear firmly in hand, he slid over the edge and disappeared with hardly a ripple. Only his grass hat floated on the surface of the water. The tide had come and the waist deep water was now nearly ten feet deep. He returned to the surface in a few seconds, minus all equipment. My friends and I stared in silent amazement. No one laughed, we just couldn’t believe what we had witnessed. We later donned swim masks and helped him recover his sunken equipment which was undoubted left in worse condition for the next renter. 8T
You had better learn to be a happy camper. You only get one try at this campground and it’s a real short camping season.