My grandfather lived on American Lake and I caught my first trout trolling a 50/50 Canadian Wonder. There were also perch and rock bass under the dock, so I would lie there with an hand line and some worms and fish all day.

For awhile I lived on Anderson Island within walking distance of the ferry dock. I spent hours dangling pile worms in front of uninterested perch.

We also have a cabin on the water in the Campbell River area on Quadra Island (April Point). This house was built when I was ten and I used to spend the whole summer up there. Last day of school and I was packing my bags to spend the summer with my grandfather (also my best friend). I had a 13' Boston Whaler with a 25hp Evinrude tiller that I would load with extra fuel tanks for more range (By the age of 14, I could go as far as my boat would carry me). Leave the house at 5:00 am, jig or rake herring at first light and motor mooch until lunch time. Run back to the house to have lunch, fool around until the evening tide and go back out. Once, I had a $1500 fuel bill in one month of fishing. My grandfather thought it was funny. Lingcod, crab, abalone, salmon, shrimp etc. and a million stories to go with every trip.

It was a life that I can only dream about now. He is gone now. I just wish I could offer my children that same type of freedom, just once, but unfortunately the world is a different place and I still have the cabin but don't have the resources.

We go there each year for a week or so and the memories flood back. My kids get tired of hearing "once upon a time, back in he olden days stories" so I try to live in the moment and focus on making new memories for them.

My family never appreciated river fishing though. I discovered a Salmon,Trout, Steelheader somewhere when I was about 14-15. I was impressed that these fish were attainable with less emphasis on money and more on effort. I was excited by the idea that effort and ability could pay off and that there was some sort of glory associated with the achievement. Also, these fish were available in the winter!

So, with that and the dreaded copy of Fishing and Hunting News, I was on a crusade to get a steelhead. My mom would drive me to the Nisqually at 6:00am and pick me up towards dark. I would bank fish all day. This went on for a year or two during which I remember fishing one spot for nothing and working my way up stream. When I came back a guy had fished the hole I had just left and had a beautiful fish on the bank. Then I had a boater plug a hole right in front of me and get one also. A light turned on and I just started watching others and copying what they were doing. About my second year I thankfully had a kamikaze steely that struck my corky and yarn three times in three casts. I got this funny tapping at the end of a swing against these boulders. I was confused until the third time when I reared back, set the hook and had forgotten that my drag was too tight from an earlier snag. Two jumps with no drag constitutes a fire drill as I recall. I was screaming for my buddy to come help me to no avail. I landed the fish though and that was when I became addicted! At sixteen I had a truck and a wooden drift boat. The rest is history.

My kids love to fish. but they may or may not share my passion. It makes no difference to me either way. But I am still as determined as when I was young. I could "just one more cast" myself all the way into the next day.


There are some good stories here. Arklier's swamp incedent has to be the funniest and Fastwater's is the one I think I would like to try before my time is up.

Thanks