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.
Sunday, 1 January 2012
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.
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.
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.
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