Fishing Stories

[Brian K. Shaffer]

Dano - its nice to see Chuck Davidsons name.. he is afterall.. the old man of the North Forth River.

I have heard / read plenty of stories about him.. but like Lee Wulff... I never met him either.

'tis a shame we lived in different era's in fly fishing - Brian

[KRflyfisher]

Here's another one.

This story occurs below the dam of Truman Lake. My brother, Lance, My buddy, Bradon, A friend of Lance’s Matt, and I planned to fish for crappie and white bass when they had the water running from the dam. Well we showed up and little or no water was running, and we had the place to ourselves. We fished and fished and among the four of us only caught a few, but a bad day fishing is better that a good day of almost anything else, so we stayed.

It was about 11:30 PM, we had two lanterns burning, and we had turned our fishing into more of a bull session. Lance had been using a 2 jig rig for crappie because he insisted he could catch more fish that way, which proved to be wrong up until the moment I am about to describe. We were all just sitting on the rocks when all of the sudden Lance set the hook and the 4 lb. test began to scream off his reel. In a split second we knew 2 things, 1 he had a monster on, and 2 his tackle was too light.

He adjusted his drag, he tried to gain line only to have more smoke off the reel. If he was going to land this fish he had only one option, run ahead of it and pick up line that way. Now to those of you who have actually fished below the dam at Truman you know that the rocks there are huge, jut out at all angles, and are sharp edged nasty things. So he took off running down the bank jumping from rock to rock with all the grace of a mountain goat tied to a Volkswagen. With out saying a thing I jumped up and grabbed his line and held it up to keep it above the rocks along the shore, and the other guys each grabbed a lantern and took up fore and aft positions behind to light the way. It must have been a sight, 4 grown men running, falling, and flailing among the rocks in unison up and down the shore to the tune of a metallic ring.

We had no idea what was on the line, would it be one of those legendary giant cats, or some kind of big bass? One thing was pressing though, we had gone almost as far as we could go along the shore, but just when it seemed like we were going lose ground, the fish turned around and headed back up stream. The battle continued, all the while my brother was gaining line. Finally we knew the fish was close, and we thought it was tired and as Lance brought it in closer to shore, like a fool, I jumped into the water and grabbed what I could see at the edge of the lantern light.

I pulled out a 40+ inch (our tape was only 36”) paddle fish that he had somehow hooked on the very tip of the tail with the first of his jigs. I had never seen a paddle fish up close and personal before, but since we were about 2 weeks out of season, we didn’t look for long. We didn’t even take pictures before we coaxed the big fish back into the water. It was just about 30 min. later, when we all were reliving the story, and fishing much harder than before I might add, when Bradon hooked into something big and we all got ready for another trip. But it turned out to be a much shorter run to end up with a gar that was just a little shorter than the paddlefish, but it was still fun for us to see another big fish brought in on light tackle.

I don’t know how long it took for Lance to land the paddlefish. Like all moments frozen in time, it seemed like it took forever, but it couldn’t have been more than a 10-20 min. None of our crappie measured so we all went home that night without a single fish in the cooler, but we all had cuts and scrapes from the run of a lifetime. I’ll take that memory into the hereafter.

KR

[Forsythian]

I can't believe it's been 20 years, it seems like this "incident" happened just last summer. I had been married just a year or so when I was invited to Canada by my father-in-law and brother-in-law. It was very gracious of them to put 3 people in a boat in order to make room for me,and a great week of fishing.

As it goes on those trips, each of us would go on hot and cold streaks. On this particular day I was cold... hanging up, getting few bites, and missing those few that I was getting. We were over a reef and throwing deep diving crankbaits, and the other two fellows were catching nice 2-3 pounders. After suffering another short-strike, I was told to "lay into the next one".

Well, on the next bite I did just that. The problem was, the bite occured near the surface, and a l0-inch bass came rocketing out of the water. Time stood still as the flying bass arched gracefully in the air, and struck my father-in-law square in the face! The air was deathly-calm as he staggered a bit, then looked up at us with a grin through slime covered glasses.

That grin, coupled with hysterical laughter from my brother-in-law, meant that I would live to fish another day!

[riverrat]

I have a "fishing story" to report from last fall. I was on a smallmouth float trip, enjoying the peace and calm of the river. I was concentrating on coaxing a trophy smallmouth (or a small one for that matter) out of a deep rock-filled eddy when the serentity was disturbed by the loud squawking of a blue heron. Being a focused fisherman, I tried to ignore the commotion. Finally it got so loud I had to look up. About 200 yards downstream, standing in the middle of the next shoal was the heron. He had a small fish in his beak. Dive-bombing him were two bald eagles. During a break in the action the heron tipped his beak up and swallowed the fish. He then took off with two very disappointed eagles hot on his tail. Now thats a story you wouldn't have heard 30 years ago.

[ColdWaterFshr]

Speaking of blue herons. . . I have one that is etched in my brain.

Probably 25 years ago, fishing on Stockton Lake. My pops and brother and I had just loaded up on some new gear at Wal-Mart the day prior. Dad had gotten some hot tip at work from a hotshot bass-tourney fishmerman that Zara Spooks were "THE bait" to target big bass with early in the morning. Not being the sort to let a hot tip sit idle, we followed up on it. I remember looking at it at Wal-Mart and thinking it was a ridiculously large, and $5 apiece -- wow, a lot to spend on just one lure. Dad had just got paid so we bought a clear one, a black and white skeleton one, and one that looked like a bass. We were pumped.

So here we were in our rental boat the next morning. Its dawn. After a little bit of practice, Dad was soon walking the dog just as his buddy at work had instructed him. He was making HUGE casts through the early morning mist of some flooded timber. We were enraptured with its side to side movement through the glassy calm water, and were on the edge of our seat anticipating a monster strike to occur at any moment. Well . . . the strike came alright. A big heron swooped down on the lure and took off in flight with it. Dad didn't know what to do, so he opened the bail on the spinning reel and let her take out line!! The line was zipping off the spool in a blur and in a couple seconds it easily snapped the knot at the end. My brother and I had stomach aches from laughing so hard.

[KRflyfisher]

Man these are great. I am really enjoying this.

A few years back I was wading a creek around here just fishing for sunfish and the occasional pounder bass. This place is notorious for snakes which is why it is also about the only place I have ever consistanly found peace and quiet anywhere around. Well I was at the end of my fovorite little eddie when I saw a little bull head or madtom swimming like crazy up into the shallows followed in close pursuit by a water snake. Well the snake won the race and I just stood there and fished out the hole while I watched that little cat get slurped down. Good day on the water.

KR

[Forsythian]

The snake story reminds me of a time on a local pond, me and a buddy were bank fishing and began to hear high-pitched screaming... a search for the source led us to a mat of moss where a water snake had the back-end of a frog in its mouth... the frog's front legs and head were yet to be swallowed, and that frog was flat-out screaming!

[Sam]

Great stories! I'm enjoying this.

A few years ago we were fishing the spring white bass run on the James River at Galena. The river was high that year, so we were up by the sandbars above Gentry Cave hole - much further up than I can usually take my boat.

We were having a ball. We were flipping little lead-head jigs in the heavy current and into the deep holes along the bank, and we were about to finish our limits of good-size white bass.

I was with Max, my regular fishing partner, and he's a great guy. Max is 5'3", weighs 100 lbs. dripping wet, and he's the stubbornest man I've ever met. We kid each other all the time, and have a great time fishing together.

I brought a 14" white bass up to the boat, and saw that it was just barely hooked by the skin of its mouth - so I told Max "Hey, hand me the net".

He responded with "You big sissy. It's just a white bass - bounce that thing!" I didn't say anything, just got the net myself and netted the fish.

A few minutes later I happened to have my eye on Max's jig when he flipped it into a deep hole by the bank with a sunken log on the bottom. A giant white bass came out from under the log and gulped his jig - it was a sow about 19" and 4 pounds - then it got out into the heavy current. The fight was on.

Now, Max fishes with a wimpy little soft ultralight rod that's fine for crappie but awfully light for big white bass. I just reeled in and quit fishing, and kept the boat straight in the current while watching the fun. The tip of Max's rod was about 6 inches from his hands on the reel - and he was going "Ohhhhhh, Ohhhhhh!".

I got a Pepsi out of the icebox and sat there watching him while the fish took him three times around the boat. I knew what was coming. Sure enough, he finally got the fish up pretty close and he hollered "GET THE NET!".

That's what I'd been waiting for. I said "What for, Max? It's just a white bass." But then after he cussed for a little while, I netted it for him.

[Gavin]

A couple Memorial Days ago, my friend John Walker and I took a trip to Ontario. It was a little hot out so we elected do some warmwater fly fishing instead of going after trout on the Grand River Tailwater. We met out guide Ken Collins at his shop in Fergus (Grand River Troutfitters) and he drove us to a river a couple hours north of his place for a 21 kilometer float in persuit of big smallies and musky. We got our share of big smallies and exhausted ourselves casting 15" long "Half a Chicken" Musky Flies with Ken's 12wt but only one Musky was hooked (Unfortunately, It was hooked on a 7wt with 3x tippet, not Ken's Musky Tackle).

Anyway, after a long day on the water. Ken suggested that we head over to a different stretch of the river (about an hour away) and hit the evening hex hatch.

My friend John is notorious for what we call "Walkering" fish. I.E. catching fish while dragging a fly behind him, taking a leak, falling down, falling out of a boat, not looking etc., etc...John's fished with Ken a few times in the past, and they know each other well and Ken's a great guide, but a very intense person...

Anyway, we got to the spot about two hours before dusk and we could see swarms of hex spinners hovering up at tree top level! Didnt take long before they started dropping and we were into fish. Frankly, the fishing was so easy that John decided mess with Ken by "Walkering" a bunch of fish.

He looked for a hex spinner on the water, cast his imitation next to it, then looked straight at Ken and told him "I'm not looking anymore because every time I dont look I catch a fish". Then he heard the "gulp" set the hook and caugth one, then another. Pretty soon both of us are casting out, looking away, and catching some really nice smallmouth! Ken was livid.. he just couldnt get over the fact that we were catching fish "without paying attention"!

[flyingeagle]

OK since my sides are hurting now from laughing, here one of my tales.

About 30 years ago, my cousin Dan, and I went wade fishing on the upper Maramec. Catch and release like crazy. We were on a bank of about 10 ft. and the land owners cattle had made trails to the water. I had just hooked a nice smallmouth and taken a couple of steps to have a clear lane when the footing gave out. Down twisting fall, down the bank feet first into the water. Dan couldn't help himself laughing at me while I coughed, trying to find myself and my equipment. His famous reply was ( I don't think I will get down that way). One step later oh my God He was falling too, but head first into the water. He had mud pack into every thing He had. To this day when ever we get together we laugh about that day.