My Dad, the RiverBum: A Father's Day Story

A well educated and experienced professional once told me that it was impossible for a daughter to be friends with her Dad. It was un-heard of, not normal, and inappropriate. I was 16 at the time and having been raised by a single father my whole life, was suddenly confused. But instead of believing this person or arguing my point, I just smiled, like I do with everyone and chose my words wisely. “Of course you haven’t heard of it, because your father is nothing like mine.”

A father like mine. The same man who from day one after being born, 5 lbs.  and upside down, sat by my crib with a bottle of milk every night as a baby. Sang Kingston Trio and Nate King Cole songs while rocking me to sleep. Comforted me when something bad happened and made me hot chocolate. Taught me to play, dance, cook, change a tire, kick a soccer ball, comb my hair, drive a car, and cast one hell of a rod. He was there when I chose my prom dress and I know he will be there when I choose my wedding gown.

My dad told me something the day I graduated from college and I will never forget it. “You were first my daughter and second my friend. The first by choice, the latter by chance.” As a parent, you never know what kid you're gonna get. Sure, I was throwing parties and getting in trouble with boys, but it wasn’t until that first day on a river that my whole life changed and changed for the better…

Dad and I journeyed to a river in Michigan just a few weeks after my 15th birthday. It was my first time fishing a river, no waders, just shorts and boy did I complain. “Leeches”, “Oh my god, something touched my leg.” “I’m hot”, “I can’t pee like this” “When do we go shopping?” “I don’t want to touch the fish.” “It’s biting me, it’s biting me.”

But, it was Dad who just listened to me. He didn’t yell or fight me on anything. He simply said, "there are no leeches but, stay here, if you can’t go on.” Yes, the guilt trip tactic. A coy father he was. Oh no, I wasn’t going to give in so easily. Oh no, I would show him. I would fish that river until I caught a fish, so help me God. So, I followed him, past every rapid, over every boulder. Now and then, he would hold my hand and help me out. Slowly, but surely, the complaining ceased and I began to get the hang of the flow, the movement, the casting. I had fished before, off boats and docks, but nothing like this. Casting while walking, being pushed by pounds of water, dodging the occasional ninja bugs and focusing on not drowning at the same time. He would coach me, show me what was wrong with my cast, guide me on lures, everything he knew…he taught me.

It was the 11^th hour and the sun was setting. I hadn’t caught a fish yet and Dad was thinking of turning back, when suddenly he told me to cast to this one spot by a boulder. I was tired and cranky but listened and cast as far as I could go. It turned out to be a great cast, but as I reeled more and more my hope diminished as no fish bit. But in an instant, my line tugged and I had something. Dad talked me through reeling the fish in and not to reel to fast or hard. Slowly, tire him out, then reel in.

The feeling of catching your first fish standing in chest deep water is one that is hard to explain. Not quite like holding your baby for the first time, but just above winning a free trip to Disneyland. You feel alive and free. Nothing but getting that fish into your hands is on your mind. And my dad, the man who all those years leading up to 16, was dorky or “just dad”, became COOL! I remember looking at him, the look on his face. The way he lit up when I caught that fish, you could tell it made him so happy.

From that moment on, I knew I wanted to go fishing with my Dad all the time. I would blow off parties and finish homework on Friday nights just so I could fish all weekend with him. But, it wasn’t just the fishing, it was the lessons, the facts, the experience, the wisdom that I gained. Not to mention the sense of humor. Sure, hanging out with fellow 16 year olds was fun and I did plenty of that. But, I had something they didn’t…an old friend. Someone who had made all of those mistakes that 16 year olds make and lived to tell about it. While other girls were out there getting their nails did, sitting around watching TV or smoking pot in the back of the high school on a Saturday at noon, I was knee deep in rivers across the country, traveling, meeting new people, living in cool places. And one great benefit, the boys! Yes, the boys. A pretty girl, eh ok. A pretty girl who can fish, PRICELESS! Turns out Dad’s plan of keeping the boys away backfired a bit, cause once they saw me in a river with a rod in my hand, they never went away.

So, is it possible for a daughter to be best friends with her Dad? Sure, if your dad is as great as mine. So, to the man of the hour, day, and years…Thanks for being my guide through every challenge, opportunity and river. I know whether in person or spirit you will be there to guide me forever. Happy Father’s Day Buddy!

And to celebrate, despite the rainy weather, we head to our favorite of waters in Northern Wisconsin. At first we had to wait out the storm...

Waiting for the Storm to Pass...

and waiting...

But, eventually the rain slowed a bit and we found time to wade in...

Nothing like Fishing in the Pouring Rain...I feel an Adele song coming on

AC landed this lunker while dodging lightening

Dad with his rainy bass

AC and her beauty drying out... yep, can't hide the blonde anymore...

Emergency Bracelet (By day: a trendy accesory. By emergency: pulls out to become handy dandy cord used for all sorts of nifty outdoor saving techniques)

Dad getting in a few last casts before the next rain system

Dad with his new NET! Happy Father's Day

Yep, after investing thousands into AC's career and education, she learns of Dad's ploy to receive the ultimate father's day gift: A white water Mackenzie mahogany and Fishknat net with a lightweight rubber meshing ideal for any fish. In the words of Dad himself... "Best Gift Ever!!!"

A clear drive home...

After all the rain and increase in water level, we did pretty well for a fathers day trip with about 7 small mouth bass all together. We kept the windows down as we dried off on our drive home after a successful day in the water.

Oh and by the way Dad, you lied, there are leeches in the water…   :)

Until next time, we will see you on the other side of the river

Cast Away,

AC 

A Muddy Memorial

Before we start today’s blog, we would like to address a very urgent and serious matter…

Congratulations to T.P. Tyler Pearson from Minneapolis, MN and the best Mac-economics partner ever J for winning the Caption Contest from last week! T.P. gets a free RiverBums sticker!

His caption for the Goose photo of AC last week…

Seeing this photo gives me Goosebums…

There is more to fishing than just catching fish. Shocking, we know. There are those perfect casts that make you wonder how there couldn’t have been a bass hiding in that small increment of space that you perfectly placed a lure. Not-a-cloud-in-the-sky weather that allows you to view the different shades of blue and bask in the smooth unending beams of sun. The pristine forest glowing with avery, turquoise, and moss greens that pattern the shores.

And then of course, there is that river. Clear, cool, and collected. Where the boulders bulge up like tiny mountains on the ground and you are the giant, wading through them, a serene power that guides you through the water. And that water, pushing against your might as each force of rapids manipulates the seams of your waders and rippled water continues on in every different direction. Agitated at the interference of flow, searching for a way to correct itself. A river is timely, organized and precise. The way it maneuvers around obstacles, never letting a snag ruin the flux. It is sure of itself. Not only in its flowage, but in it’s beauty. The way the sun makes the surface shimmer in a way that would send a man diving head first for looking at it too long. Like life, the river can give and take at the same time. The way each boulder has taken years to move into the ideal place where it will settle for a while and then move on when the water has decided it’s time. One dry summer could spell disaster for hundreds of life forms. Where one wet summer could mean a prosperous and fulfilling season. It all depends on what the river wants.

It is that luminous essence of the river that allows us to wade so well, ideal visibility of the lure for the fish, and overall, a more beautiful experience. Which brings us to the theme of our blog this week. Mud. Or as a RiverBum would define, Chocolate River.

Chocolate River : [Ch-ow-co-lat

"

e Ri-V

·

er]

1.     Willy Wonka’s Watering Hole

2.     A chocolate factory that really exists in Colorado

*3.     A term used to define a river that has allotted excess rain water and is extremely muddy which produces difficult visibility for both man and fish.

Yes, my friends, this memorial weekend every river from here to northern Minnesota was flooded and muddy. Excess rains accumulated in Minnesota and distributed water over all of Wisconsin and into Michigan for over 5 days straight. Despite the signs, we decided to have a cast at it anyways.

So, with three days off, we decided to head to Minnesota and try the Snake River. However, work took over and we didn’t leave until Saturday afternoon. Dad drove the first shift from 4-7pm and AC took the night shift. It was a smooth drive with little traffic and on and off rain. We knew the rain would cease for Sunday, but our water gauges on the iphone were indicating high levels and little chance for fast clearing.

But, we trekked on and arrived at the Best Western around 10:15pm. Before heading in for a well deserved sleep, AC decided to be social (as always) and wave to the ZZ Top posers standing by their Harleys. They were not as friendly as AC expected and instead of continuing the conversation, she pointed out the green bike and said, “That’s my favorite” before heading in. Typical AC, always making friends in the wrong places! Somehow that simple lesson of never talk to strangers, never quite seeped into her mind.

The next morning we had our hopes set on fishing some uncharted Minnesota river. But, our faith was shattered when we learned more rain had come and the river was unwadable. Not to mention, who wants to fish when the fish can’t see your lure. So we headed towards the Namekagon River in Hayward. We have fished this before, last summer and caught a couple smallies and a northern with a huge parasite (See blog from September 9th) . But, it was another strike out, as bridges had been closed due to flooding. So, with 2 strikes, we decided to play it safe and headed to the one river we knew we could always rely on, the ******** river (come on, we need to keep some secrets).

Along the way, we stopped for lunch and heard about the Chippewa River in Durand.  When we got to the river, we noticed it was a much larger flowage and less flooding occurred. So we grabbed our rods and decided to try it out near a picnic area without suiting up. It was a good thing we stopped because AC had a home run on her first cast as she reeled in a black Chippewa beauty of a smallie off the dock…

Off the Docks on her first cast!

A 50 mile long river, the Chippewa is part of the drift less area of Wisconsin which makes it immaculate fishing territory. Back in the day, the Chippewa was used as a floatway for lumbering and paper making. The river is substantially stocked with walleye, smallies, pike, and musky.

It was an afternoon adhoc fishing expedition that lasted only a few hours. The wading was difficult as we had to stick close to the shores due to the depth of the river. Wide enough for a charter boat and very woody (full of sticks and trees).

Chippewa River

So after no luck and tough wading, we headed out and packed up. Research would have to be done on wadable spots and possible rental boats for another time on the Chippewa. It would be another few hours to the ****** river and unfortunately no time to fish it until Monday morning. So it was a night spent hitting the town where we bought fresh fruit at the local Walmart for dinner. Yes we just use “fresh fruit” and “Walmart” in the same sentence. Surprisingly there was an over abundance of fresh fruit, but a shortage of Capri jeans and flip flops. Go figure! When we got back to the hotel AC hit up the pool while Dad tried out the clean remote. That's right, hotels now carry remotes that are sanitized! Now if only they could work on those bedspreads...

                                         

Clean Remote

The next morning, we were out early and within an hour arrived at the river at 9 am on the dot. We suited up and headed to the banks as we were welcomed by a dark chocolate river. This was the muddiest we had ever seen it. Even in the shallowest of areas, we couldn’t see bottom. But, did that stop us? Oh hells on reels no! And just for all you doubters out there, here’s proof…

 

Hiding below a log

Reeling in the bass

Wading to China...

Top Water

Caught along an eddy

She always finds a way...

A new friend...AC named him Griffin

Branch Bumming

Between a rock and a deep spot!

Caught along a deep trough- lunker of the weekend goes to AC again...

Flying Fish

Chocolate river? No problem! Total fish for the weekend: 1 in the Chippewa and 10 in the ******** river. Despite having to work hard to entice the bass to the top, we did pretty good. The weather stayed clear, the river was generous and we had a blast on our first memorial trip to Wisconsin.

Until next time, we'll see ya on the other side of the river...

Cast Away,

AC & Dad