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DEL.ICIO.USWhat’s your fondest outdoors memory?
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
There were many firsts during the summer between by seventh- and eighth-grade years and they all came on the same trip.
It was the middle of the summer of ‘75 when I went on the fishing trip of a lifetime — 10 days in the Canadian wilderness with family and friends. We were in a group of eight who drove from my native Wisconsin to Vermillion Bay in Ontario, then airplaned deep into the some of the most beautiful lake country on Earth.
It was my first trip out of the country, first time in a plane, first camping trip to the middle of nowhere and first experience catching fish in a barrel. It was the coolest thing I’ve ever done.
It was a 12-hour car ride from Central Wisconsin to Ontario and another two hours on a plane. The outfitters shuttled the group and gear on several trips back and forth, and once they were done we didn’t see them again for five days, when they brought ice.
No electricity. No running water. If you could brave the cold Canadian water (perhaps in the 50s) you could take a bath, but once was enough of that. We had tents, food and a fleet of fishing boats owned by the outfitters.
It was incredible fun.
To this date, I have never caught as many fish as I did on that trip. Northern pike, walleye and smallmouth bass bit so frequently that if we made five casts without something biting our Daredevle spoon we moved on. And if we got a little bored, me and my best buddy would race the boats across the lake and back.
It also was the first time I remember feeling somewhat equal to my father, which is a big thing for a 12-year-old boy who wants to be treated more like an adult than like a child. He let me drive the boat, pick spots to fish and our conversations were deeper than ever before. He went to get the firewood while I started a fired — and not the other way around. Wow.
That trip ended too soon. I was ready for another week once the plane returned to pick us up. I still hope to take a similar trip with my son and help him start feeling like an adult, too.
So, what’s your fondest outdoors memory?
Comments
By A once happy man
May 1, 2008 3:55 PM | Link to this
My fondest memory is a Saturday morning in the tent with my girlfriend Genie. Best camping trip lovin’ ever.
By AndyV
May 1, 2008 4:25 PM | Link to this
Fondest memories, or at least top ten. Whitney Point, NY Ice Fishing Crappie Derby. Me and my father used to try and go every year about 30 years ago. Ice is about 2 feet thick. Some people actually had pot belly stoves on the ice. My and my father used two ladders and a blanket to make a make shift tent. One year it was sunny and probably 40 but with the way we were dressed it was warm as we sat in our lounge chairs. They gave out $15 every 15 minutes for the largest crappie. Almost won once and we did get to see someone pull a 15 lb Pike through the ice. Pretty amazing but more importantly fun to be with my father. The Derby is still held when the weather cooperates (global warming)<
By AndyV
May 1, 2008 4:33 PM | Link to this
Heck, I’m going to bore you with back to back posts. Whitney Point again and same time period (college 81 Binghamton U grad). Many Fridays during the fall I’d go small mouth bass fishing and carry a shot gun because it was goose season also. I’m not particularly lucky or even a good fisherman but I would usually catch 4 small mouth bass and bring them back to my appartment and cook them that night. I never failed to catch fish and only once did I get a shot off at a goose. I love Whitney Point and would someday like to have a place on the lake which is only about 5 miles lone and limited to 7hp motors of less. There is no place more beautiful in the fall than upstate NY. Now, it’s someone else’s turn to post.
By Don
May 2, 2008 10:54 AM | Link to this
Actually, 2.
1) Camping and trout fishing in the Cohutta wilderness area with my brothers and oldest daughter. It was her first time in “the wild”. She was 11.
2) Coming out of the woods into a huge field in central GA on a 4-wheeler, with my 10yr old son on the back. It was this time of year. The grass was knee high with a beautiful purple color on top. Not a cloud in the sky. It was breath-taking. My son said, “Dad, Heaven must look like this.”
By Jim H.
May 2, 2008 10:58 AM | Link to this
Mine are too numerous to mention and are still being made because of a lifetime of hunting and fishing with my dad. It consists of 40+ years of fishing Georgia lakes and streams, trout fishing in the GA mountains, salt-water fishing at Panama City, Fla., small game hunting, and TONS of deer hunting in Georgia.
He is 74 now, and I’m about to turn 48 — but he is still active outdoors. For instance he killed five deer last season including THREE WITH A BOW at 73 years of age (not bad)! Just a few days ago we tore up some big hybrid bass and stripers at Lake Oconee. He taught me the right way to act and ethical outdoorsmanship at an early age. I know time is ticking away and there will come a day when he won’t be there, but I only feel blessed for the many, many years we have had together as best pals…..especially since so many men loose their dads early in life.
I only wish the bunny-huggin’; anti-hunting; PETA, USHS, etc. animal rights morons could understand what we outdoorsman really feel about our passion (instead of what THEY think it’s about)….I think that would change many minds.
By Scott Bernarde
May 2, 2008 11:12 AM | Link to this
I once caught a smallmouth in the most unusual way on a trip with a friend. We were 16 or 17 at the time.
I was using a small orange-belly rapala when I casted it at a fallen tree. The lure hit the trunk of the tree and got snagged, with the front treble hooks sticking into the wood.
The back part of the rapala (including the hooks) dangled right at the surface of the water when a smallie rose to strike it. The fish was hooked by the back treble and splashed around trying to get away.
Neither hook let loose, so I ended up catching a tree and a fish at the same time. We had to pull up to the fallen tree to get the fish. It was a small fish (maybe 12”), but a catch I’ll always remember.
By Roger
May 2, 2008 1:42 PM | Link to this
I’d take the first guy’s outdoors experience over any of the others, or any I’ve had.
By Bill C
May 2, 2008 4:15 PM | Link to this
I like others above have had many and continue to log them (I hope for years to come….maybe even with grand children). One of my fondest was with my Father just a couple of years ago at Burton. I was really tired and resting horizontal on the sofa when some noise got my attention. I raised up and could see “Gran Dad” sitting on the leaning post in the boat patiently waiting for me to take him fishing. Who could possibly ignore a 86 year old kid. I jumped in the boat and off we went ….4th of July and all the traffic on the lake. I expected nothing but boy was I wrong…. trollin using down riggers and pointer 78 and 100’s we caught 8-10 lb hybrids and trout up to 8 lbs. Dad pulled in all but 1 and I am here to say it was awesome!!!!!
Tight Lines….<”)))><
By Jim H.
May 5, 2008 9:25 AM | Link to this
Roger, I like the first guys comment too…..but since this is a hunting/fishing blog, it really ain’t pertinent to the subject. If you want outdoors court’n stories, hell I could go on for hours.
…..And if you’ve never had such an experience it sounds like you’ve led a sheltered life and need to get out more!
By Roger
May 5, 2008 11:46 AM | Link to this
Jim H., I want nothing to go with the type of outdoors courting practiced by you and your cousin Gary H.
By Mark C
May 5, 2008 1:37 PM | Link to this
One of the best memories I have is hunting with my son, who was 16 at the time. It was opening day of gun season. Our stands were about 100 yards away from each other. It was his first “alone” deer hunting experience. Shortly after dawn I hear his shotgun blast. About 3 minutes later, a spike walked by me and I shot. When I got to my son, he had shot his first deer, a doe, and I had shot a spike. Those are the memories you cherish.
By OldDawg55
May 5, 2008 1:38 PM | Link to this
You all have sparked memories of my fishing with my grandfather and Dad..and with my sons and grandsons…I read with a sense of pride in your memories..that so many can recall sharing with your Dads, granddads, and kids..we are all blessed..so nice to read all of this..it’s truly what the outdoors is about.
By SC Boy in GA
May 19, 2008 12:44 PM | Link to this
When I was a little boy, my Grand dad would take my fishing on a farm pond. This was back in the early 70’s long before fly fishing for panfish and bass became the in thing to do. I can still see him casting a black and white popping bug that would land softly of the water next to a lilly pad. He would ask me from the front of the boat, if I could see that fish under the pad. I would strain my eyes and all I could see was pond water. He would then move the bug with short twitchs and the water would explode as the bass or bream would take the lure off the surface. It took me a few years to understand he could not see the fish himself, but knew where and how to fish.