Heavy lifting

     I got a chance to fish with my cousin, who is an incredible fisherman, during my Christmas break. We went down to the lower Niagara hoping to get some trout. I wanted to catch a Lake Trout as I had already caught a rainbow trout. He set me up with a rig for the lake trout, and gave me some instruction on how to catch them. He decided to try for some steelhead.

     Some background on the day. There was a snowstorm the day before, and the entire trail down (hundreds of steps) was covered in snow and ice. It was not an easy trek. Thankfully we were not the first people there as there were sets of footprints, as well as streaks were they had wiped out, to guide us. It also helps my cousin knew the area very well. Unfortunately, the wind was not cooperative either, making the water is crystal clear (I was warned ahead of time, but still wanted to go). I had gotten a rod for Christmas, and foolishly rigged it with 20lb moss green braided line to go trout fishing. I have learned since then... Not much, but some.

     Despite the less than ideal conditions, I was excited to get going. This excitement lasted quite a while. The cold started to take its toll after a while. Ice would buildup in my eyelets and prevent me from being able to reel in. I would melt this with my hands, and could barely cast after the first 2 hours.

     Just as I was starting to loose hope, my cousin hooked up with one of the most beautiful fish around here, a particularly acrobatic steelhead (rainbow trout). The steelhead was jumping all over the place and putting up a remarkable fight. He offered me a chance to reel it in, but I was intent on catching one myself.

     With some newfound inspiration, I cast out again. This time I let the current take my lure wherever the current would take it. A few minutes later my lure was almost on shore. I started to reel in, and not even two cranks in, the float sank, and I felt a ton of weight on the end of my line. It was the first time I'd ever heard my drag.

     It is incredible how quickly you warm up once a fish is hooked. My hands felt the warmest they did since I left the car. I was primed and ready to go, and so was the fish. It had a few short runs along the shoreline and then it tried to dive in shallow water. With nowhere to go, the fish was landed with the help of my cousin.

#4 Lake Trout (Salvelinus namaycush)- A beautiful fish from a beautiful location

         I was so ecstatic then (and still kind of am now). It was the first fish I ever caught that needed to be held with two hands. I am not sure when I will accomplish my next goal of catching a fish that needs to be held by two people, but I am hopeful it isn't too far away.

       

The Catfish Trials

     After the camping trip, my dad and I really wanted to go fishing again closer to our home. My Dad used to love catching catfish when he was younger so that was our major target. We tried a number of locations without so much as a sniff, although I did stumble upon a nice lure stuck in the weeds of the Grand River.

     Eventually we stumbled upon a spot that had catfish, small ones, but a chance to finally get some practise catching fish. We set up some pickerel rigs with night crawlers. My dad got into some fish very quickly with a couple catfish. I had quite a difficult time feeling the bites with the bottom rig. Having my bait stolen a few times, and a few snags. I landed my first lifelist fish (Photographed with indisputable evidence, as I had not photographed any previous fish, none of the previous ones counted)

#1 Freshwater Drum (Aplodinotus grunniens)- The only freshwater member of the croaker family. 

They grow much bigger than this.

     I caught a few more of these before finally encountering my first catfish. These photos are all from different trips. I took very few photos at this time. This was the only spot I fished until the catfish left late fall.

#2 Channel Catfish (Ictalurus punctatus) The largest member of the Catfish family found 

in Ontario. This one is in disguise

      

     In between tiny channel catfish and drum. My Dad caught and landed a massive catfish. It would be the only one from there ever, though we never fished it at night. Eventually the major catch shifted from miniature catfish to bullheads, and I got species #3.

#3 Brown Bullhead (Ameiurus nebulosus)- Terrible photo for identification purposes

Yellow bullheads have pale lower barbels, and blacks are not mottled

     We also caught a few white perch. We thought that they were white bass at the time. The only photo is of one that my dad caught. Since photos need to be of a fish I caught, it does not count.

     After succeeding in catching a catfish, my next goal was to either catch a dogfish or a fish that I needed to hold with two hands. 

     My dad always talked about how the weirdest fish he ever caught was a dogfish. He told me about how they have a bright orange spot on their tail, that they are really slimy and have extremely sharp teeth. He had never seen one of them since. It didn't take too long to figure out that they were actually called bowfin. They would be my next major target.

 

The Rules

     The rules of my fishing adventure are simple:

1. A fish must be caught using a rod and line
2. Fish must be cleanly hooked (In the mouth)
3. A photo positively identifying the fish must be taken

The rules are to make the challenge about learning as opposed to numbers. Each fish has its own habitat, behaviours, and foods. To trick one into eating my bait requires much more knowledge about the fish than snagging or spearing one. It is also more challenging, and needs to keep me occupied for a long time.

Number #3 has historically given me the most trouble, as I did not own a camera for quite some time. Any fish that I have caught without any photographic evidence goes on a red list just to bother me in the back of my head until I catch one again.

My entire fishing history up until 2012

     These were the only notable fishing stories I had prior to making regular fishing trips.

     My aunt had a little creek that ran through her backyard. I fished it with my sisters and parents. Back then we were wearing lifejackets and fishing in 2ft of water. I had a spinning rod that had the trigger caster. My poor sisters had regular spinning rods and were having trouble casting them. We were warned by my aunt about snapping turtles, and my dad proceeded to tell us about how they were like alligators that would tear our arms off. I was terrified to go anywhere near the water until I knew it was safe.

     Tossing little chunks of worms in I caught my first bluegill. It was the only fish I caught and I was fascinated how cool the bluegills were.

     Much later my family made a trek up north to visit our relatives. I was around 11 by this time, so the memories are much clearer. We stopped to visit my uncle in Geraldton, ON. We fished for a while, but I was much more interested in finding fossils and was not really paying attention to my line. I couldn't find my bobber and my Uncle yelled to jerk my rod. This fish felt much different than the bluegills I was used to. A short little battle ensued and I caught my first Northern Pike. I couldn't believe the teeth on it. My dad caught a white sucker that was substantially larger than the little pike I caught. This sparked my desire to catch a sucker. The photo of me with this pike was destroyed in a flood.

     Further north we went fishing in Red Lake. My cousin was talking about how he caught a massive pickerel and I was enthralled. I really wanted to catch a pickerel. We went fishing off a dock and no one had a bite. My cousin did manage to bring in a big ball of seaweed with a lure in it.

     Years later we went camping at Algonquin park. My whole family went fishing again. There was a small shore bank with lots of weeds. I quickly started catching tons of pumpkinseeds. I didn't know the difference between them and bluegills at this time, but I do remember them being yellowish. This was the most fun I'd had fishing so far and couldn't wait for our next trip.

     The beginning of the addiction started during a camping trip in 2012. Up until this point my life was consumed with football, disc golf and school. An unfortunate injury ended both of my sporting careers and I needed to find something to do for a hobby. I tried longboarding, but losing large chunks of myself most trips ended that.

     It was my birthday and we went up to fish Black Lake near our campsite. After a lot of searching we finally found a spot we could all fit. My dad thought it was time for my to try out lures and I got a real spinning rod, which was a disaster. I tangled many times as I had no clue how to cast. I ended up snagging my dad's spinner. I couldn't get it free and broke the line. My dad was not happy. I could see where it was in the water. So I went in and got it, which made my mom very unhappy.

     After switching to worms my brother caught a pike, and lost it on shore. My dad spent most of his time untangling myself and my sisters. I finally caught something. It turned out to be a little smallmouth bass. Then we all started catching sunfish. Tons of sunfish. My dad caught a big pike. My sisters caught tons of sunfish, and my brother lost the pike 2 more times, then caught tons of sunfish..

     I didn't think fishing could get any better than this. There was no way that fishing in the Niagara Region could be this good I thought. This was the point that I wanted to start fishing all the time. My dad started telling us stories about catching 10+lb catfish on our drive home. I really wanted to catch a catfish.

In the beginning

     Before I was a crazy species hunter who spent far too much time researching how to catch the strangest of fish, I was a kid who had never held a fishing rod before.

     My first time with a fishing rod was at the Ontario Sportsman show with my Dad and Uncle. I don't even remember how young I was. They had a trout pond competition where if you caught a trout, you would be entered to win a big prize pack of rods and lures. My dad and uncle wanted to give it a shot and I begged to join in as well.

     We each got a noodle rod with a roe bag (though at the time I thought it was a raspberry) and dangled the rods in the water. A few of the other people gave up and mumbled about the fish's lips being sewed shut. My dad instructed me to hold the rod as still as possible and when I felt a bite to jerk up. I didn't listen. I told my dad that he needs to do this, and started frantically swinging my rod around everywhere. Within seconds, there was a ton of splashing, and with some help from my dad, I landed my first fish. A tiny little rainbow trout.

     We were asked if we wanted to keep it. "Yes!" I exclaimed. I was excited to have a new pet fish! so I started listing all of the names we could call it, and how it would be best friends with our pet Oscar (also known as a peacock cichlid). I didn't realize keeping it meant eating it. We didn't end up keeping it.

     My first fishing experience was a lot of fun. The trips in these days were few and far between. I don't remember most of them, probably because I was too busy playing with dandelions, or my siblings to really appreciate the fishing.