The Noodler's Grandson Says "goodbye"

[FishinCricket]

(This post is dedicated to the memory of my grandfather, who passed away Sunday April 5, 2009 at the ripe old age of 84.. He was the greatest fisherman I ever knew..)

There are so many things I could say about my grandpa, but I don't wanna get into that right now, I just want to relate a few of his short stories here, marked down for any fisherman who might enjoy them. I may be off on the dates, but the stories are all his and are true to the best of my knowledge.

The Noodlers

Grandpa took me to a pay to fish (per pound) catfish farm once. Me and a bunch of the cousins, in fact. In hindsight he was probably rushing around setting up poles and corraling us kids and I was driving him nuts, I am sure. But I was 9 and wasn't paying attention to that, I just knew that nothing was biting and it was boring. So I decided to walk the bank. As I was walking I came around the edge of the spillway and saw a SHARK in the spillway! Well I ran back and grabbed the pole and tried my best to get that fish to either bite my hook or *accidentally* get hooked so I could catch it. To no avail, it wasn't budging.. But it was only in 2 foot of water.. And so I began my noodling career.

I am really suprised no one saw me down there thrashing around with that 29 pound channel cat attached to my arm, but somehow I managed to drag it to the bank unassisted. And then I dragged it over to where the whole family was fishing.. Not wanting them to think that I had somehow cheated, I told them that I hooked it and it was trying to get away.

The next day, when we were cleaning it and the rest of the cats (grandpa always let the catfish sit in an airated tank overnight before he cleaned them) I told grandpa what I had really done. All of a sudden he let out a whoop and I thought I was in big trouble, but he just patted me on the back and laughed.. He explained that I had "noodled" it, and then he told me this story:

When he was 25 he and his cousin used to go along the mudbanks of the river back home (I forget where, sorry) and feel around in the root wads in search of catfish. He would take a stringer and loop it through their gills and then tie that to a rope that was tied to a sapling. Then the tug of war began. When they finally got the fish, which more resembled a log on the other end of the line, pulled out of the hole it was backed into, the fight was on. The fish would swim back and forth and thrash around and just about rip that sapling out of the ground! And when the fish was done fighting they would drag it in and take it home to mom.

I was absolutely mesmerized by this method of fishing.. and I realized right then just how brave my Grandpa must truly be, cause I couldn't (and still can't) see myself doing that!

Feeding the Family

Grandpa also told me about the biggest catfish he ever caught. The cousins had a cabin down on the river, and they used to stretch out logs accross the eddy in a lose bridge. Along the bridge they would tie limb lines with perch tied onto them. Then they would go up to the cabin and stay warm, play cards, etc.. Well one night they were up there playing a game of spades and they heard a commotion out on the water. Grandpa was the first one to the "bridge of logs" and he hopped out onto the logs to see what the commotion was. Halfway accross the eddy one of the logs pitched up when he stepped on it, and the rope that had tied it had come undone on one end. Grandpa slipped and caught himself on the two logs with either hand, his face pointed directly down at the water... and face to face with an 88 pound channel cat! It thrashed and the log jerked and grandpa slipped in with the fish.. At 2 a.m. LOL I asked grandpa if there were any pictures of that fish, and he replied that if the family had been able to afford a camera they might not have had to do quite so much fishing..

The Missed Trip

The last opportunity I had to go fishing with my grandpa, I was 15. I had a girl (my ex wife, actually) on the brain, and told him and dad that I had other things to do.

The two of them went to the pond accross the street from our house, It turned out to be the missed trip of a lifetime. The pond's about 3 acres and is mostly shallow and weedy with one 20 foot deep hole at the banked end. It has big channel cats and big bass.. And that's what they caught. At about 6 PM (an hour or so before dark) they had a full stringer of some nice bass and cats, and were about to pack it up, when grandpa's pole (fishing with live worms) took off across the pond. Grandpa said he was lighting his pipe and just grabbed it up in time. He yanked and a bass rose and jumped, dad commented later that it looked like a whale... Then apparently the bass turned back towards them, because grandpa said the line went slack and he thought he had lost him, as he reeled it in he realized that he was either stuck on the bottom, or had that fish still.

It charged another 10 times before relenting, and grandpa said he coulda stuck both fists in its mouth. It had swallowed the worm and the line was so frayed that it snapped when dad used it to help the net in lifting the fish. Seven pounds and one Ounce, it wasn't the biggest Bass grandpa had ever caught, but he was sure proud of it. He would have been 70 then. I have still never forgiven myself for not going on that fishing trip with them. It's a memory I will never be able to get back.

Anyways, this past weekend is the first time I have been able to get out and do some fishing since he died. In fact, the last time I was preparing the boat was last sunday, and I got the call that grandpa, who lives in the Boot Heel (Doniphan, Missouri), was deathly ill and probably wouldn't live much longer. Obviously I put the boat away and rushed right down to be by his side. When I got there, he was hooked up to tubes and hoses and the doctor explained to me that he was dying from an internal bleed and there was nothing they could do for him but make him comfortable.

I stepped to his side and grabbed his hand and he stirred, looked me right in the eye and said with a faint voice and a grimace:

"What are you doin' here, boy? Nuttin' Bitin'? hehe"

I love you grandpa, and I will miss you dearly...

[zander]

Sorry to hear about your grandfather Cricket. You can feel better knowing that you had the chance to fish with him at east some of the time, even if not the last time. My dad's father passed away long before I was even a possiblity. I have often wished that I could have gone fishing with him, one day perhaps I will yet. Until then I have just the stories my father tells me of the time he caught a 37 lb flat head on a crappie pole, the marathon fishing/camping trips he would drag the whole family on, eating watercress sandwiches to save money and stuff like that. Once again sorry to hear about your grandfather.

[Danoinark]

Thanks Cricket, a find tribute to a man. Thanks for sharing.

Dano

[tippett7]

Great story. I wish my grandpa took me fishing.

[DaddyO]

Cricket,

That was a good read. Thank you for sharing your memories of your grandpa and reminding us how precious our time with family is. A fitting tribute.

[FishinCricket]

Thanks guys, the kind words mean allot... I was much luckier than some, as far as grandparents go.. Up until 8 months ago I had all 4 still.. Now I am down to 2.

People ask me what happened, and I have found the easiest answer is "He was 84.. that's what happened"

Again, thanks for the kind words..

[laker67]

A very fine tribute to a fisherman, and a grandfather. No doubt that he has instilled in you a love for fishing. My condolances to you and your family.

[jjtroutbum]

Aye Cricket my condolences on the loss of a good friend and mentor. You had mentioned to me your fondness and respect for for him before. After those we admirer most pass on. Their lessons taught and good times shared can be passed on to others which in away keeps them with us for many years to come.

But then its obvious by your post That you this very well.

Thanks for help awakening a few memories of my Grandpa.

JJ