Are you sitting down? This turned into a long ‘un!!! Olive really opened a can of worms – so to speak [pun intended] —I loathe fishing!!! Everything about it. Even consuming fish. I ate enough brook trout and rainbow trout and fresh water salmon in my lifetime, to feed a nation. And this all requires a little explaining, but it opened a flood gate I tellya. Grab some iced tea or your soft drink…it’s gonna be a bumpy ride!
Our gracious host this week hails from U R Olive. And boy does she have a doozie for us this week!! I like creative…she reiterates that the tale is to be creative…well, trust me, most ‘fish stories’ ARE…..
- Hey, we are starting a new month and will be celebrating our Day of Independence soon in the US so let’s make the next FM a fun time. I would like to hear about your *whopper* of a fishing story. Yes, you heard it correctly whether it is fictional or non fictional I want to hear a fishing story from you. An example would be if you catch a minnow and tell it that you caught a swordfish (exaggeration is the operative word here). Did you hear me say show your photo(s)? Of course you did – be creative.
This will now self destruct in one minute!
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What follows is true:
This is my own “fishing implement” that I used on our family’s fishing trips all the time when I was a small child. It’ll be explained later more thoroughly as you read further. It’s a ball peen hammer of my father’s [even has initials etched in the head of the hammer "H C" is visible if enlarged] – it was from his truck’s tool box that was toted everywhere he went in the truck. For my entertainment on our many, MANY fishing trips, this came in very handy for me! When my father passed away, tho it’s just an everyday ordinary hammer, it had to end up in my possession because of the familial value for me and me alone. This is inside our home now, and when I use it for household purposes, I am reminded of my dad and my attachment to this tool of his!! Read on….
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I remember one fish tale that involved my parents. My father loved to go fishing. There was this HUGE reservoir that was about an hour’s drive from our home. In the mountains. My dad had a small motor boat. Just about every weekend he had off from work, the two would get up way before sunrise and drive for hours to go fishing. Now, I went with them when I was REALLY young since my older siblings always had something planned and I was too young to stay home alone. Anyway, it was a continual ‘fishing trip’ excursion…weekly. For decades!!! Personally, I got so sick of the whole concept. Especially when I wanted to sleep in on the weekends. But, no, it was a 3 a.m. wakeup call —drive for 100s of miles with towing the boat behind his truck, me sleeping in the middle of the seat…going to some godforsaken part of the country that I shared no interest!!
Okay, so now you know I don’t like fishing!! But this one time, the story I’m about to tell, was when I was first married. Bud and I had no children yet, it was just the two of us. hehehehe
Mom and Dad had the boat hitched up to the truck the night before. And then, as always, drove a long way. They had planned on staying the weekend and make it a true outing with camping out and all. La, di, da!! I was asked to set the water on his huge garden and feed/water the cat. Sure, ya I can do that!! At least I don’t have to go bait a hook! Simple, easy. Something I can handle. No problemo!
Okay….so three days later, they arrive home nearing sunset as I’m sweeping the cat dirt up off the floor and such. Bud is out moving the water/soaker hose for the tomatoes. They pull up into the drive way….mom immediately slams the truck passenger door. Dad stays outside and pretends to be working on the boat and unhitching it and well…you know, the ‘man thing’. I knew right off something had happened while they were gone. My mother was always very easy going. She did have a temper, but most always kept it under control. This time was different. I asked her as I propped the broom up against the wall: “What’s wrong?” “What happened?”
The story goes like this:
They’re out there in the middle of the reservoir, and the boat sprung a leak. Dad, being the fisherman that he is, tried to ignore it while Mom was watching the water seep into the bottom of the boat by her feet. She tells him to head for shore. VERY reluctantly [according to Mom] he starts the motor and slowly heads for land, the boat ramp. By this time, Mom was really livid, ’cause according to her, he went very slow, and continued to have his fish line alongside the boat [what a fisherman would call, 'trolling']. All the time the boat was filling up more quickly because of the boat’s movement against the water line. Slowly, the boat and the two of them were getting lower and lower in the water. She also, according to DAD –refused to put on her life jacket; telling him if she drowns it’s “his fault”.
Well, when they got up to the boat ramp, Dad got out and reached to help Mom out. She was so mad at him, she refused his hand and an argument set forth. With more fisherman/boaters around. Embarrassing for Dad I’m sure!! She finally DID get out of the boat with some fellow fishermen’s coaxing.
But I can just picture the ride home!!!! Glad I was grown and didn’t have to experience that. When I got home with Bud that night, he and I had a good laugh about the whole thing. I do recall that I had to explain to him that I inherited her temper, so watch out. This was the first time ever he saw my mother mad. A red-headed Irish woman at that.
I can honestly boast say that our daughter inherited the love of the sport. This photo, [tho blurred 'cause it's part of her personal collage of life that's on our hallway wall -and I didn't want to use the flash so not to have the bright spot on the glass] is Irene and her prideful Grandpa [my father] on a fishing trip in the Colorado mountains one Sunday afternoon. You can’t see it too well in the photo but Irene is holding her new rod that Grandpa bought her in her right hand! Irene to this day takes her boys on fishing outings in the summer months. Our youngest grandson is me all over…the hammer again-[explanation coming]; while the oldest grandson takes the sport seriously! More power to her and Clint. Get ‘em!! But fishing, you guessed, it not for me. I used to get so bored with the trips, I’d sit at the bank of the lake or wherever and skip rocks, ‘scaring’ the fish away, and my Dad would chew on my butt ’til there was no butt left, and he’d stand back and bark at the hole!! My thoughts on all this ‘roughing it’ – The whole concept for me and roughing it is to travel and not have a reservation for the hotel/motel room upon arrival. Now THAT’S roughing it!!!
I have actually thought since we’re here on the coast to go out in the Gulf and do some deep sea fishing, but that entails work and heat and sweat, and baiting the hook and sore muscles and sunburn and money that I could spend buying a pair of shoes or something….need I say more?
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I could go on and on about my dislike of the sport fishing. At least when my Dad was involved. Once we went fly fishing [without a boat this time, river fishing]…and driving along some god awful rutted mountain road [probably used for logging back in those days] and Dad hit a huge pointed rock in the middle of the road…breaking the oil pan. He left Mom and me on the riverbank while he walked out of this uncharted area to find a cabin and a phone. We were towed home that time!!
Another time, we went fishing for a week, and used their trailer camper. And once again…some unknown territory with narrow rough roads…he got the truck through the two boulders that framed the road…but guess what, the trailer got jammed!!! Yep, that’s my Dad. He had to walk out of that spot too, and call triple A and get a jack to get the trailer out! Gawd!!! I hate fishing!!!
Not to mention one time, while out on the highway, the windows open…me sound asleep in the middle between Mom and Dad…a bumble bee flew in and stung me….that’s when we all found out I was allergic to bumble bees!! Oh…and I’ll leave you with another one of my boredom times…while they were busy fishing, Here it comes…the hammer part now!! Ready? I was on shore, killing red ants [see photo of the hammer, above!!]
Let’s just say, I got sick then too!
[I thought I should add a little exaggeration to the story tho...THIS is it. The biggun' that got away! hehehehe]
