Fishing

Dad and I went fishing almost every Saturday. I can't remember exactly when that started but I think it was after the older kids had gone to college(about 1993) and so it was just Mom, Dad, and me at home. Mom always had things she wanted to do and I knew Dad would be going fishing somewhere so if I didn't need to be cheering or playing ball anywhere I'd load up the truck with Dad and we'd go. . . somewhere. We would usually go to Fish Lake but there were many days we drove(to what felt like out of state) all over going from lake, to reservoir, to stream but not necessarily in that order. Dad always tied my hook. I don't know why he never taught me how to do it myself. Guess he just enjoyed helping me, or I guess I just never asked. I'd always load the bait, but it wasn't until I was about 18 that I tied my first knot.
Dad took me ice fishing for the first time to Fish Lake. I didn't love to be cold so he would never take me, either that or my mom didn't like the thoughts of her little girl going so I didn't get to go ice fishing until I was in high school(about 1995). I think Dad had a lot to do with my Christmas gifts one year; I got a super warm down coat and Cabella's snow boots for Christmas. These items meant that I could go ice fishing and stay warm so I went with Dad and was 'hooked' the first time. I loved listening to the ice crack, pop, and groan and I liked laying on the clear ice and watching the fish. This just increased the number of Saturdays I went fishing with my dad. One trip we went to Mill Meadow (I believe) and I was walking along and slipped. I fell back and smacked my head on the ground. I was knocked unconscious(I don't know how long) when I woke up Dad was either starting or had started CPR on me. I remember how scared he looked and I could see in his eyes what he was thinking, "Don't you EVER do that again!" I thought I promise I won't ever do that again-- it was too scary and it hurt bad too!
The summer of 2010 my mom brought my Dad up to Gooseberry to go fishing with us(we were staying there with Darryl's family). It time warped me back to all my fishing trips with my dad. My older boys became much more independent fishermen that trip; they figured out how to cast, hook, and reel in the fish. I was glad too because then we could plan more fishing trips with Grandpa. Until they were more self-sufficient I didn't think it would be much of a trip. I'd be too busy helping them and keeping them safe and no time to just sit and fish with Dad.
That reminds me of fishing trips in the boat with Dad when I was young. As a young child I was somewhat of a noisemaker. When we'd go fish it would drive Dad crazy that I wouldn't be quiet and hold still. I'm sure if I hadn't been there Dad would have caught the big ones that I scared away. Dad would always tell me, "Quiet! You're scaring the fish." He must have said that to me over a million times. Then I started saying, "Here fishy, fishy, fishy." I always seemed to catch one and it would make my day. Dad always talked about how I would out fish him-- I'm not sure if that was just a tactic to make me feel good so I'd keep going with him.
Written by: Jennifer