After a recent family car ride I had scouted out a nice fishing spot along the Wisconsin River that I had wanted to try out. My friend Chris and I had recently gone fishing together and had decided that this spot is where we would make our next attempt. I say attempt because neither of us are anywhere near at risk of being labeled as skilled in the art or science of fishing. A fact we have both humbly embraced. Despite this I still want to be a bit cautious and protect my friend from any potential embarassment that may be caused by me writing this so I will only refer to him by his first name Chris and not his last name Freeman which would totally give his identity away. Imagine if Abottt and Castello had made a movie about fishing and you are pretty much on your way towards understanding what one of our fishing trips is like. If truth be told I am actually probably the more experienced catcher of fish. Thus far his catch outnumbers mine but that can all be easily explained. Our first trip out I considered to be more of a guided tour with me doing the guiding. Chris had not gone fishing in a while and so I had spent a good deal of time giving him advice, ensuring that he got the best fishing hole and trying to make it a pleasant experience for him, as any guide would do. It reminded me of taking one of my kids fishing really. This along with the fact that I had a bum left leg, my good casting leg mind you, from an intense game of kickball earlier in week, and surely it is becoming easier to see how I might explain his better catch thus far. And yes you read that correctly..it was a kickball injury. We took third place but that is another post.We arrived at the river and began fishing with little success unless Chris successfully hiding a lure in the rocks under the water where no other fishermen could find it and me successfully tangling my line around my reel to deter any would be reel thieves ( fishing equivalent of The Club) counts. We had managed to get quite a few casts in when something happened that forever changed our lives and potentially the course of history in the state of Wisconin. An old man, wearing a camouflague hat and shirt , sweating and likely smelly, I did not get close enough to verify, came whistling down to the river. OK he may not have been whistling but surely after reading this you will agree that the story is much better if he was whistling. He greeted us and offered the socially required small talk questions written into all fishing etiquette books of "You fellas having any luck?" and "what are you fishing with?" He proceeded to repeatedly cast his lure in front of a natural rock dam that had formed just down river from us. Each time it appeared that his lure landed precisily where he intended it to and he proceeded to catch fish after fish or so it seemed. My friend Chris, who is the Costello in this scenerio, quickly gathered up his tackle and followed the path down towards the spot like a young girl after a Hannah Montana sighting. The old fella graciously allowed him to fish next to him and Chris proceeded to ask him what he was using hoping to replicate his success. I had my pride and proceeded to fish in the spot we had selected. Pretty soon Chris was catching fish too and that was more than I could bare. I gathered up my stuff and made my way down the path towards the old fella.
He immediately took us under his wing as if we were two of his grand children. He told us about a good place just down the river where he thought we should give it a try. He guided us down to a spot next to a small bridge and instantly began to school us. He set Chris up at a good spot to the left. "See that rock? You cast right towards that rock and you will catch a fish". To me "You see those weeds? You cast just in front of those and you will catch all kinds of fish". To Chris, "You got any surface lures?" With a confused look on his face Chris responded " I got these shiny fishy things" or something like it. To me he asked the same question. I of course had a better answer than Chris. I told him I had a Hula Popper to which he replied "Perfect young man cast right over there". I was proud of myself for having such a good answer. After a few casts he was correcting our casting technique stopping just short of standing behind us helping us cast in the same manner I would help one of my own children. Later on, after watching him catch a couple more fish I decided to try one of the other spots he recommended. " You got a crank bait?" He asked. To which I responded " I got one of these green fishy things". This negated my previous good answer. Chris finally caught a decent size small mouth bass and was so excited he was tripping all over the rocks as he attempted to reel it in. He caught a walleye a few minutes later that was big enough to keep ( he did not). After switching to a crank bait as he had advised I too caught a nice size small mouth. I asked the old timer how long he had been fishing in these parts to which he replied " almost fifty years now".
He referred to us as son and young fella the rest of the morning and spent the remainder of the time giving us further advice on how and where to cast as well as what type of lure to use for different types of weather. He started to gather up his tackle and said "see ya young fellas" and left our lives as quickly as he had come into them. He left us changed men, at least changed fishermen. We fished a little longer without him and then gathered up our gear and walked away from the river with big smiles on our faces realizing how lucky we were to have bumped into him. We decided to immediatley head to the tackle shop to purchase some of the tackle he had recommended fearing that if we delayed it at all we would forget what we had been taught. Its not every day you get a guided tour of the best fishing spots in the area from someone who has spent the past fifty years fishing there. We made plans to return the next weekend and did. As we pulled up to the same spot I found myself wondering and maybe even hoping we would see Walleye Will there again. We did not.
