Fishing Evolution
My first fishing outing was up Oak Creek Canyon with Uncle Ivan on opening day of trout season. The fishing equipment consisted of a ten foot cane pole with electric tape wrapped around the butt to form a makeshift handle. Attached to the pole was a line with a small loop tied on the free end. An Eagle Claw hook with a 12-inch store-bought leader containing a loop of approximately the same size as the one on the line was fastened to the line by locking the loops together. A used pork’n bean can full of nightcrawlers rounded out the outfit.
Paralleling each other for several miles, the road and Oak Creek came close together numerous times, and a one-car parking spot developed where fishermen had easy access to water. Uncle Ivan parked below the big springs. He knew it was here where the Utah Fish and Game truck, which stocked the stream several days earlier, made its last stop dumping what remained of its load. Uncle Ivan was acquainted with the warden patrolling the canyon for poachers and he advised this would be the best fishing spot.
The hole was under the bridge. We stood upriver and let our nightcrawler-laden Eagle Claw hook bounce along the bottom with the current. As soon as the bait hit the top of the hole, we had a strike. The fight consisted of setting the hook and landing the 10 inch hatchery-raised rainbow with one jerk. In less than an hour a 20 fish limit was taken, killed, and cleaned. Mom fixed a fresh fish feast for breakfast the next few days.
My first step up in fishing equipment was prior to a Boy Scout fishing and camping super summer activity when I purchased, with my own money, a steel telescoping rod and matching level wind reel. Eight years I packed it into high mountain lakes for cutthroat trout, tied it to the handle bars of my bike to get to the local rainbow streams, and carried it on the bus to Yellowstone to fish the Madison and Fire Hole Rivers. The rod gave good service until it was retired when I moved to Alaska.
My arrival in Alaska was timed with the introduction of fiberglass and spinning reels. A Mitchell 300 became the status symbol as I entered the world of subsistence salmon fishing. The pork’n bean can of night crawlers was exchanged for a tackle box full of Mepps, tee spoons, and flash bait. Six salmon was the limit with a two day possession limit. Habitually I would catch a limit before midnight and another one after. Beginning with the red run, our family diet rotated from moose and caribou to fried, baked, broiled, and smoked fish.
Concurrent with a gift of a fly fishing outfit, I was introduced to catch and release. With fly fishing came the necessity of an increased amount of fishing paraphernalia: pliers, chest waders, fishing vest, twist on weights, and the list went on. My fly rod gift was a four section pack rod. Its first tour of duty produced an eight pound, distinctly rainbow, rainbow on the first cast while fishing the Talachulitna River. I freely confess to enjoying releasing the fish to fight again. Imagining a now larger and wiser fish haunting the holes added a new and enjoyable perspective to later outdoor outings on the Tal. The next stage in my fishing finishing school finds me leaving the fly rod and fishing vest home, substituting instead a Canon camera and Kodachrome 64 film. A new element of catch and release emerges as I now release and keep — keep on film.
Recently, the after dinner fishing lodge conversation turned to fishing reels as a fellow angler touted the qualities of his newly purchased fly reel. Each person around the table hefted and admired the precession craftsmanship and tooling. As my turn for inspection arrived and held the instrument, its owner announced the reel’s $1,200 price tag.
Before retiring I contemplated where I was on the fishing evolution chart. Determining I was about in the middle, half way between the can of nightcrawlers and a $1,200 hand made reel, I could not tell for sure which way on the chart I was going and I didn’t care. As long as I can be on the bank near the water, I’ll take either the pork’n bean can, the steel telescoping rod, or the hand crafted reel. It makes no difference to me if I’m catching with a hook or capturing with a camera. It’s fishing.
Fishing fun is no respecter of age, price, or position. It’s just right wherever you are. I’m thankful my lot fell where I can fish Alaska.