The Official "Fishing Stories" Thread.

[shilala]

I don't think we have this.
The only reason I thought of making it is because we were telling fishing lies at breakfast the other day and one of my buds mentioned having the keys to Lake Rockwell, which is the reservoir for around here.

Without further adieu...
My brother and I were fishing DuBois Resevoir one night, we sneaked down in there to wade and throw top-water for some lunker largemouths.
I was tossing and jigging something, probably a Rapala or hula-popper, I don't remember.

All of a sudden I get one of those yankity-yank walleye strikes. You know what I mean. But they don't hit like that on top of the water, they explode just like largemouth and smallmouth.

So I keep working my line in, and it continues to feel weird.
I set the hook a couple more times, just because.
It's pitch black out with just a street lamp's light from about a mile away.
When I get my line almost all the way in, snag.
Still can't even see the tip of my rod.
So I turn to my side to see if I picked something up, glancing through the rod tip to the streetlight.

I sure did. I caught myself a bat.
It wasn't hooked, it just got tangled in my line a bit. It only took a couple spins and he took off.
Then I checked my shorts for any new residents.

I have lots more.
What do you guys have?

[AdamJoshua]

Growing up in Satellite Beach Florida, an island on the ocean side, separated from the mainland by the Indian / Banana River, we used to go fishing and even shrimping off Mather's Bridge (a crappy little rickety bridge over a narrow stretch of the river), so one day when I was little I was fishing with my sister and while she was going to bait the hook her pole fell so that it was laying on the walkway with the hook about 2 inches in the water, she went to grab it and when she lifted it up there was a huge (I was like 5 years old so it was huge to me) crab holding on to the line and refused to let go no matter how she shook it. Finally she dropped the line back in the water trying to get the crab to leg go which it did, when she pulled up the line not more than 30 seconds later there was a 5lb catfish on the hook. Weirdest damn chain of events ever. I just reminded her about that the other day, always fun to have those random memories to share with a sibling!

[Tio Gato]

Originally Posted by AdamJoshua

Growing up in Satellite Beach Florida, an island on the ocean side, separated from the mainland by the Indian / Banana River, we used to go fishing and even shrimping off Mather's Bridge (a crappy little rickety bridge over a narrow stretch of the river), so one day when I was little

The only thing I ever caught at Mather's bridge was a basket of grouper fingers and a cold beer at the restaurant of the same name. Funny thing, that was 20 years ago and just yesterday I was thinking about that grouper basket.

[AdamJoshua]

Originally Posted by Tio Gato

The only thing I ever caught at Mather's bridge was a basket of grouper fingers and a cold beer at the restaurant of the same name. Funny thing, that was 20 years ago and just yesterday I was thinking about that grouper basket.

That's a riot, I grew in Satellite Beach, did a lot of in the woods partying on Merritt Island and a **** ton of fishing off Mather's and yup I remember the restaurant well. That's awesome

[shilala]

I gots another one...

I was fishing in the rip rap below the Kinzua Dam at Kinzua Resevoir.
Great big rocks. Big gaps, too. Directly behind where I fished was the fish hatchery where they raised Atlantic Landlocked Salmon and Rainbows for stripping.

There's a trail right along the fence running across my back, and I noticed a groundhog walking down the trail. Then he walked back up the trail.
He did this a number of times, getting closer each time. I just kept glancing back at him and he'd be crawling up and down rocks, headed to the left, then back to the right.
This went on for well over an hour, and I have to admit, it was getting on my nerves.

Mostly I was mad because I was fishing an eddy on a giant rock and schools of a dozen or more of those landlocked salmon were cruising by. I'd never caught one.
So I had to really concentrate to get a jig tipped with a shiner right in front of their noses. That's the only hope a person had of catching one, because the ones below the hatchery were cast-off breeders who were blind as a bat because of living their whole lives in those concrete runs. All scarred over the eyes and what-not.

I'm fishing, and this goofy groundhog is now 10 feet behind me, making the same 50 yard passes upstream and downstream with me in the center of his hike.
I knew he was up to something, I just had no idea what.

So I gave up fishing, stuck my pole under my arm, popped a cold one, and kept my eye on him. Eventually he climbed up my rock, 5 feet from me.
When he did, I gave him a good poke with my fishing pole.
This is where things got interesting.
I thought he was a groundhog. Turns out he was a Tasmanian Devil just released from the Asylum in downtown Warren.
Sumb1tch went critical mass on me the second that pole touched him.
He's running circles between my legs, my beer flies up in the air, I'm dancing, jump to the next rock, kick over my tackle box and empty all 5 metric tons of tiny pieces of gear, the beer hits me in the center of the back and soaks me, and this crazy **** is gnashing and wailing at me.

Now, here's a thing. When groundhogs are mad, their teeth don't just click together. They sound like a spring-loaded bone trap. CLACK!!! CLACK!!! CLACK!!!

Faced with this happening which has rapidly become a full-blown incident, the only thing I could think is "run".
As I mentioned, giant rocks. So I jump a few rocks as fast as me and my hip waders can, and I look back and face him off.
He looks at me, standing in the middle of absolute carnage, all my gear up-ended, spilled, abandoned, broken, you name it.
He raises up his chest, sniffs at me twice, and starts working his way back the other direction.

I'm convinced to this day that he tells this story at the groundhog bar and has his friends laughing till their guts hurt.

[pnoon]

One time. At Band Camp . . .

[galaga]

Ok, we had this a "This ain't no s.hit story" so now, "Once upon a time."

Vacationing on Long Lake in Michigan.. by Alpena. (Michiganders learn geography with their hand. Hold up your left hand palm away from you. Index finger, first knuckle from the top. That's were Alpena is) My 8 yo son is fishing worms from the pontoon boat tied up to the dock..

"Dad, I caught a clam".

Well you want to catch fish, not clams. Keep your worm off the bottom of the lake and you won't catch clams. Throw it back

I didn't have it on the bottom, the clam swum up and ate my worm.

OK buddy, ya right. Time to go to breakfast, lets boat to the lodge across the lake (about 2 mile away)

So we get the family on the boat and go pick up our friends in the middle of the lake at their cabin. We are waiting for them to get ready so my son is fishing in a row boat tied up at our friends dock. When it is time to go, he leaves his pole leaning against the gunnel and the baited hook in the water.

The lodge across the lake has been there since 1890 or some BS. $5 for breakfast of whatever they were serving that day. Juice, eggs, some meat, and flapjacks. All served picnic table style and a great deal.

We come back to my friends cabin in the middle of the lake and there I see my son's pole sitting in the boat, hook in the water. Matt, you should have left the pole in the boat, it could have fallen into the water. I go down the dock to retrieve the pole and there it was, still on the gunnel, hook in the water. At the end of the line was a clam, about 1 and a half feet from the bottom. It had somehow hooked itself.....

By the way, since hanging around with so many michganders (why is there a d in that word) I tell them I am from San Diego, California and so they will feel at home, I hold up my left arm and point to my arm pit.......

[T.G]

Check out my cool new humidor! What do you guys think? Will it be big enough? And what's this "newsletter" I keep hearing about? I hope someday I get to try a real Cuban cigar.

[AdamJoshua]

Originally Posted by T.G

Check out my cool new humidor! What do you guys think? Will it be big enough? And what's this "newsletter" I keep hearing about? I hope someday I get to try a real Cuban cigar.

Did you get the newsletter?

[T.G]

Originally Posted by AdamJoshua

Did you get the newsletter?

No, but I'd really really really really like to read it. Who can I get a copy from?

[Remo]

Damn, I fish more than most men should, I should drink less and I'd have more stories! Although I did have some good times with Revsmoke and his boys

[Chainsaw13]

Ok, here's one of mine. We had a group of friends during the 90's that would do a annual spring fishing trip to the northwest lower peninsula of Michigan in search of Steelhead/Salmon/Trout. Right around the Frankfort area. (To steal Galaga's geography lesson, hold up your left hand, palm facing out, little finger's nail. That's about where we were).

Every year we'd go up with some new method to try. Casting spinners/Rapala's off the piers, spawn sacks, drifting a single egg on a hook down the Platte River. Whatever we did, we never seemed to catch fish. Always heard, "You shouldve been here last week. They were killing em".

This one year we're back on the piers, out of Onekema, just south of Frankfort. There are two piers that extend out into lake Michigan about 100yds to act as a break wall for the channel coming out of the lake by Onekema.

There was six of us in the group. Being pre-cell phone days, on of my buddies brought a pair of voice activated headset walkie-talkies. That way when our group split up on the pier, we could still communicate. Half our group stayed in closer to shore, the other half went towards the far end. We've been out there a couple hours without catching anything. Suddenly, my friend Dave starts chuckling. He's wearing one of the headsets. He then starts to give us the play by play from Bruce who's wearing the other headset at the other end of the pier. Seems our other buddy Carl's back is sore. Bruce asks if he can crack it for him, since he's been going to a chiropractor and it helps him. Carl obliges. That was his mistake.

The three of us turn to look down the pier to see Carl lying face down on the cold concrete pier. Bruce is standing over him, squatted down, hands on Carl's lower back. Then Bruce starts simulating a thrusting back/forth motion. We lost it. Looking around, guys on the other pier had turned around and had this stunned look on their faces. Same with the group of guys in the boat going out the channel. It was classic.

Even as far away as we were, Carl heard us laughing and figured out what was going on. He jumps up as quick as he could, all flustered and embarrassed. That just made it all the more funny.

We never did catch any fish that day.