Fishing memories: Good times with good people

WABASHA, Minn. — May is a month for reflection.

For those of us with a passion for fishing, the Mississippi River can be a mecca of magical memories.

I remember the day a couple of years ago when I caught a 30-inch walleye dragging a leadhead jig along a rock pile. That opened my eyes to a new way of fishing that particular spot which has continued to produce some impressive catches.

I remember a pod of 20- to 25-inchers packed into a small spot on a wingdam that provided consistent action for almost two weeks one spring. It also puts a smile on my face when I think back to the flood year when I found numbers of big, hungry walleyes in a backwater hole.

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But what are even the most pleasant memories really worth if they exist only in your mind?

While they provide data and information that adds to an angler's knowledge and experience, they'll be gone when we are gone. You can document them with photos, tell others about them or even write about them, but they'll still be exclusive to you.

The memories I treasure most are those made with friends and family. Sharing a unique experience with someone you are close to adds a level of depth and bonding that isn't available just anywhere.

I have a lot of memories of fishing with my dad when I was young. One day when I was about 6 or 7 years old, we were at a sandpit near Brandon. I caught a 15-inch crappie and a 22-inch northern pike. I thought the pike was the "trophy." My dad laughed about that until the day he died.

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I remember another time when my brother Darrell, who is basically color-blind, and I were fishing on Pool 4. He tied on a pink and green bucktail jig and caught a 27-inch walleye.

When I saw his jig, I asked, "What possessed you to put that ugly thing on?"

"Why? What color is it?" he asked.

My wife, son and daughter have provided some special moments, too. When I think of my wife, Nancy, I think of the excitement and pure joy that bubbles from her whenever she catches a quality fish.

I look back fondly at the day my son, Drew, dropped his ice fishing rod into the hole when he was about 8 and was afraid to tell me until I asked what happened to his pole. I'll never forget the day when daughter Nicky's dog jumped straight backward out of the boat when a crappie started flopping while the dog was sniffing it.

I also chuckle when I recall the time Nicky and I decided to fish the Sheephead Classic on Pool 4 of the Mississippi. It wasn't the 4-pound walleye she caught that morning or the fact she could only fish until 9 a.m. because she had a shopping trip planned. What I remember most is the 8-pound sheephead she caught while bouncing (kind of) a hair jig along a steep breakline.

"Oh," she said as her rod began to bend. "I think I'm snagged."

Then her rod began to buck wildly and line peeled off the reel.

"Man on!" she announced.

It quickly became apparent it was a big one.

"You'd better take this one," she said as she hung on for dear life.

"Oh, no," I answered. "You're on your own."

"What if I lose it?"

"We'll catch another one."

She didn't lose it, and she couldn't have been much prouder than she was late that afternoon when we were recognized as the winners.

I remember a day with my dad, uncle Ed and cousin Mike below the dam on Pool 5 when my dad accidentally hooked a seagull. It put up quite a fight and left my dad bloodied when he finally got it into the boat and secured enough to remove the hook.

When I was growing up, we had a neighbor who didn't fish a lot but loved the opportunities he got. Unfortunately, he suffered a stroke that compromised his speech and left him with a stutter, but Dad took him fishing when he could.

The three of us were on Lake Pepin casting from the rock piles that protect the harbor when we could see a storm coming down the lake. The walleyes went crazy before we beat a hasty retreat to the car.

"Tha... tha... that was ama... amaz... amazing," John said, giggling.

Walleye tournaments have been the source of more great times — some that Neil Hammargren and I or Doug Bonwell and I won with great catches and some that we lost when we probably should have won.

One morning on Pool 13 at Bellevue, Hammargren and I had problems. First there was a three-hour fog delay. When it was finally time to go, we had a dead starting battery so we pulled the boat over to the dock and hooked it up on a charger for an hour.

We didn't dare venture far from the launch and weigh-in site, so we headed to a nearby spot where we hadn't had a nibble during our prefishing. The water was high and muddy, and we weren't optimistic. Much to our surprise, we pulled a five-fish, 34-pound bag and finished second.

I've enjoyed some fantastic Mississippi River times with my buddies Randy Randall and Mike Wirth, too. Randy and I hoped to make some new memories when we got on the water a couple of days before the Memorial Day weekend.

After an extremely slow morning jumping around from spot to spot, we found some cooperative walleyes. While there weren't any true "trophies," we did catch seven between 21 and 27 inches and kept a couple of smaller ones for the dinner table.

The fact of the matter is, we would have enjoyed the day no matter what we caught. That's the way it is with Mike, too.

Non-anglers might say my mind is full of worthless information and frivolous pursuits. I would say I've been blessed to build such a vast collection of memories that will put a smile on my face for a lifetime.

On to June!