When I read Ken G's post, A drive Down Memory Lane, I was thinking to myself, "Man, I wish I could remember my past fishing trips with such detail. As I continued to read, I began to realize something. I do remember them with that much detail.
I grew up very close to where I live now. With the exception of the 6 year hiatus I went on in Vegas, Brookfield has been my home. As I look back, I can remember riding my 18 speed, black with green speckle, mountain bike to swan pond and Hoffman Dam. I must have been quite the sight to see. Picture some skinny, zit faced kid riding his bicycle down the road while carrying two fishing poles and a big old tackle box. On just about any given day during summer break, you could have put money on seeing him.
Back then it was almost all about carp for me. Just about every time I fish that area today, I can almost see the 11 year old version of myself sitting on the bank, watching that rod tip, and battling the many fish that I caught.
I remember the carp that took me almost a half hour to get in. The rod tip had barely moved, but I had a hunch there was something there. I grabbed the rod, set the hook, and instantly felt a terrible snag. But then, the snag took off and the drag on my reel was singing. I remember looking down at my reel and seeing that I was almost out of line after about 30 seconds of this fish racing downstream. I remember running down the shore trying to gain some ground on the fish as other bank anglers were rushing out of the way. I remember them following along to see what this 11 year old kid hooked into. I remember when a stranger came with his net to help land the fish. I remember my excitement when I laid eyes on a carp that was every bit of three feet in length. I remember struggling to even lift him up. I remember the desire to bring this fish home so I could show my Mom and Dad what I had accomplished. I also remember realizing that this fish would have to die and I would never be able to catch it again if I did bring it home. I remember the bittersweet feeling when I watched that carp swim away.
Oh the stories, I could tell....
I love these trips down memory lane - Thanks, Ken