B Mac gave me an idea. What are some of the best trips or stories you all have fishing with your Dads, or Moms. I will post one of mine soon, but dinner is getting cold. I think it was RT who is writing the book. Maybe he can use some.

------------------
Just because I look big, dumb, and ugly, doesn't mean I am. It means I can stomp you for calling me it!

I have so many, it's hard to narrow it down (I'm 30 and my Dad is still my main fishing partner, so every trip is a memorable one.) My Dad and I have been taking a yearly fishing trip together for a week in October every year since I've been about 6 or 7. The one I remember most was about 3 years ago. It's only him and I and we're staying in his cabana on the Wynoochee River. I can remember that wonderful smell of frying bacon and drying waders as I await breakfast. All my worries slip away as I sit drinking my coffee and bs'n with my Dad about the hope of the days coming events. I can remember the smile on his face as we anticipated a run of kings that we were sure had stockpiled awaiting some fresh rain. We dressed in our gear in an almost ceremonious rhythm and headed out the door to hit the slot, watching as the sun started to peak over the hillside. I could see the chill in the air as we both exhaled. My fondest memory of the day wasn't the fish we caught (I hit a king and a chum, my Dad a king), it was our conversation. We were both relaxed and discussing old fishing trips. Talking about our canceled trip years ago on the Toutle (same day the mountain blew, which would have really screwed up my fishing career since Mt St Helens blew the wrong direction is was supposed to), and mostly about our old week long fishing trips in June for cuts and bows on the Olympic Peninsula (going to work for UPS cut away my summer vacations). It was a wonderful day, good fishing, even better company. We ended out the night sitting around a campfire drinking coffee and reliving the fish we caught that day and remembering more fishing excursions from the past. My kids fish with me more and more. They're at the age now they can go with me on my cat on certain rivers safely. I'm hoping that they keep that spark to have a rod in their hands and their Dad with them to experience it with them. I feel tradition should be passed on, but not forced. I pray they keep that love of fishing the way I have.....

------------------
you haven't lived til you're rowed a cataraft. Friends don't let friends run Outcasts.

Thanks much Jim. And I will use some of the stories in my book, unless an individual expresses being adverse to that. Good piece Steel69! -- I'm up briefly while the dog is out, but I'll get back to sleep quicker if I get a couple short stories off my mind now. -- I spent my first 6 years of life in N.W. Montana. The first fish I ever caught was on a branch with string and a bent safety pin with small worm. We had taken a family drive up from Missoula and my brothers and I wanted to try to catch a fish out of Flathead Lake. It worked as I caught a couple little trout on that setup, and a fisherman was born. Thanks Dad! My father had a way of making do with what he had with him in the outdoors. I remember we went hunting up the Bitteroot Valley south of town one time and Dad sent me running thru brush to flush pheasants! I was always double startled by the sudden closeby flight of the birds and the followup shotgun blast that whooshed well above my head (my Mom still got a bit angry when she heard years later that Dad had used me as a flushing dog). I remember him taking us fishing on the famous Rock Cr. tributary of the Clark Fork River. That's the first time I fell down in a river; just up stream of Dad who caught me dogpaddle-stumbling down to him. Snagged the cheap little rod too. After moving out to NW Oregon at 6 yrs. old, Dad soon started taking me and my brothers out on Illwaco charters to cross the Columbia bar for salmon fishing (starting at about 8 as I recall). The most memerable thing about those special saltwater trips weren't the hot coho bites we got into; but rather that Dad was always the first one to turn grey and be hurling over the side- several times before coming back in. He endured being badly seasick every summer for years because my brother's & I really loved crossing the bar to open sea for salmon! Thanks Dad. I'm sure he didn't mind bringing a load of salmon home each time too. After I got into river fishing, and eventually driftboating for salmon & steelhead, I finally got him back for allowing me to wade into a cold Montana stream at too young of an age. I anchored my driftboat in a good Nestucca R. drift, about 3' deep at anchor, in freezing weather for winter steelhead fishing. I had gotten out of the boat to wade down to fish the tailout. As I came back to the boat I climbed in on the shoreside as Dad was intently watching his drifting oakie. I thought he new I was getting in. Not. The boat dipped and he came falling across the shoreside gunnel and fell flat on the water, just completely soaking him. Not funny at the time, given the freezing temperatures. Fortunately, a local farmer took Dad in and dried his clothes in their dryer or we would have had to race to the takeout. That's the only time I've ever had someone fall out of any of my boats. But it wasn't the last time we went fishing together. That is still to come. Thanks Dad. - Steve

|)WELL THE FIRST TIME MY DAD TOOK ME FISHING OUT OF WESTPORT, I WAS ABOUT 10.
my dad belonged to the home builders association of pierce county, as he was a cabinet manufactor. they had this yearly fishing derby, book all the boats out of one of the bigger charter company's like western in those days.
well my dad told me at the docks to keep from getting seasick, i would need to get the first deep breaths of ocean air and some spray in my face on the way out across the bar.
i did not know what the bar was or anything else about big water, so i stood out on the bow of the 38 foot fishing boat. i stayed there all the way out to and across the westport bar.
it was amazing to see the swells go up and come down. from where i was standing i could see the bottom when looking over the edge whne the boat went down, lots of big nasty barnalces all over them rocks. then the boat would just shutter as the captian gave it throttle to climb the face of the next wave.
what a ride, best ever, beats all the carney rides.
well as we got out to bouy 10 and started setting up, my dad asked me if i liked my first ride on the ocean. i loved it i told him. he explained to me that when the boat went down with the waves i came off the bow deck about 3 feet every time. that day there were 15-18 foot swells. whole boats disapeared in the next wave set, just their antenna. i did not know, i was just hipnostised by the water, smell and the fish to come.
it was always the same from then on, never get sick, love the water no matter the conditions. (diesel does turn my stomach, but not the sea's.)

elmtree (woody)

Dad was an Saltwater fisherman and I'll never forget my first Salmon a sceaming Coho,but It's my first Steelhead that left a lasting memory.We got up early and headed down the hill to the Nisqually,we showed up at the Plunkers shack( did I say that?)his buddies were all ready there,I was meet with the a little razing something to do with me being just big enough to use for bait,I'll never forget the smell of that pot of beans cooking on the fire,for years to come I remember sharing those beans and the fire with my dad and his friends
All the rods were casted and placed in their pole holders after about 10 minutes this was enough for me I needed some action (I guess at an early age I decided that I didn't want to be a Plunker )Off came that piece of lead ,Dad selected a smaller weight and asked me what I wanted to use for bait...I looked though that tackle box till my eyes settled on that pretty pink oakie drifter,I tied it on and took the walk down to the lower end of the drift and proceded to start casting,I must have been there about 15 minutes when my rigging stopped and I felt that little pull I set the hook and the water exploded,I was hooked up I never said a word I looked up at the group that was gathering above me and could see the smile on my Dads face it was way bigger than mine,he walk down and stood next to me and coached me all the way to the net,we landed that fish and proceded back to the fire for congratulations from all,that fish felt like 50 pounds carring it up that hill when it was probably closer to 5 ,I was the king... I remember being called a chip off the old block,Jacks boy, I got to have the first bowl of those beans ,they never tasted better.
Those days are long gone but the memories will last me forever,I will never forget the smile on my Dads face that day...
he's been gone for 19 years now and I know he's with me everyday and still loves to fish with me on every trip.
My son graduates this evening and I know how proud it feels to be a Father....thanks Dad....Jacks boy

------------------
Row Quietly and fish a Cataraft }<<(('>-- --<'))>>{
Release all Wild Fish

[This message has been edited by Osprey (edited 06-09-2000).]

Great stories so far. Here is one of mine. RT already beat me to the river dunking one. Did your Dad always tell you to stay up river of him? Mine did. I just figured it out a few years ago why, to catch me as I went floating by. So here is one story. We use to live in upstate NY and did all our fishing there. I started going when I was 3 years old. On one trip to Lake Champlain we were fishing at a friends cabin on the lake. As the grown ups were BSing, I was prowling the lake shore with my flash light and rubber boots. My nickname was rubber boots Boylan. I always had those things on. I was around 4 years old at the time. As I'm looking around the lake, my parent's friend asks me what I'm looking for. I replied Champ. Now, Champ is Lake Champlain's version of Nessie. When they asked what I was going to do with Champ when I caught him, I said "Boot Him in the ass, and throw him back in". My Dad fell off his chair and has laughed for years about that. His friend still use to ask if I ever caught Champ. I will post another later.

------------------
Just because I look big, dumb, and ugly, doesn't mean I am. It means I can stomp you for calling me it!

Although I can remember a lot of trips with my father hunting and fishing both, the thing I remember the most from him is learning to respect the outdoors to smile and wave when you see another boat or hunter no matter how much sleep you had the night before, to help out when you see a boat or rig broke down, to respect other people ie if they are in a hole first go to another hole don,t run over their fish with your boat it puts them down. Respect the fish and game you are after and if you kill it take it home and eat it He taught me all of the things that make up a true sportsman.
RAMPRAT