RiverBums: The adventures of a daughter-daddy duo

RiverBums: The Adventures of a Daughter-Daddy Fishing Duo

SlideShow

Friday, September 20, 2013

A Reel Good Fishing Partner...




A fishing partner is a good find. A good fishing partner is hard to come by. A real good fishing partner is rare. 

You may think you know you're friends and family. But, it isn't until you are stranded in the wilderness with a tornado at your back or a bear at the point or a foot caught in a sink hole, that you realize just what they are made of. A great fishing partner, a true wing man is not just suddenly born. He or she is groomed through the travails of life. Overcoming obstacles of colossal stature with dignity, passion, and pride. Learning to be loyal from their first sandbox encounter with the juicebox kind to their dying day. A real good fishing partner is truly a rare find. 

Of course, defining a great fishing partner is the key in discovering one. The credentials vary from fisherman to fisherman. But no matter what, the criteria should include the following three...Determination, Assets and Compatibility. 


Determination: This encompasses skill and passion for the hobby, nay the sport of fishing. And because it is a sport, having a good team on your side is key to winning the game. You don't want just anybody on your team. Think back to your dodge ball lineups where you were “forced” to choose between Tray, the 6 foot 3rd grader with arms the size of tree trunks or Riley, the premature brainiac with arms the size of twigs. Your answer would be Tray. However, in the long run, I'd choose Riley. Because we may lose at dodgeball, but groom that young, loyal smarty pants and you've got yourself a life long friend. Riley will find new and cool spots to fish, calculate river specs for you to benefit from and of course, buy lunch cause he’s just a nice guy. Tray most likely will go on to be some college drop out with an alcohol addiction who moves back to live in his mother's basement selling weight lifting equipment on the side to pay off his parking tickets. Sorry Tray. 

As for the passion, your fishing partner should have at least the same amount of fishing skills as you and enjoy it just as much. Someone who can keep up on the river in either blazing hot conditions or the blizzard of the century. Work a boat, rig a line, tie a lure/fly, wield a weapon (and well), carry his/her weight (and yours at some point). Can hide like Schwarzenegger in Predator, and fight like Rambo from 1, you know what we mean. The kind of passion that comes honking through your driveway at 2:30 am with a fresh cup of brew and a car loaded with gear screaming, “Get in slacker, the fuzz buster is on, the joe is hot, and the river is callin…” A devotion so strong to fishing, that if you were both captured by spot steeling river pirates along the banks of the Milwaukee river that your partner would chomp on the cyanide pill you hide in the bottom of your rod before ever giving up the best spots. 

Assets: So if you haven't figured it out already, fishing is an expensive sport. Waders, boots, rods, reels, lures, boats, weapons, gas, gas and more gas. The only reason we work is to fuel our fishing needs (duh) and therefore work is a given in any fishing partner. Unless of course they are a trust fund baby and then you're good for life or until the third wife comes along and takes it all. So it's crucial to have someone who can use their car every other trip, pitch in for half the gas, cover half the hotel or pitch half the tent and need no bribe for supporting the lie to everyone at the local tavern that you caught a 6.3 lbs. smallmouth when in fact it was a blood sucking red fish you foul hooked and will eventually go home and photoshop it into a bass. We're not saying your fishing partner needs to be rich. He/she just needs to be able to say half the time, "dude, I got this." Like any good partnership!

Compatibility: And finally, the most important piece. The holy fish spirit completing the trinity. Being comfortable with that person. Think about it. You are spending hours in the car and days in the woods with this person. You better make sure they have...1) Good taste in music, 2) be able to drive at odd hours of the day and night, and 3) turn out not to be some creepy backwoods serial killer. That would be bad. You don't both have to love the same exact songs, just the same genres. Although something new will come along and spark your interest. Ok, yes Dad! The Moody Blues and the Blues/Country line of the Rolling Stones rocks. You were right! Having each other's backs is key in compatibility. AC prefers to hit a spot for longer periods as her optimism and ability for catching a fish after 60 casts or so grows more intriguing every trip. So, Dad takes his time wading, making sure not to leave her miles behind for safety precautions. And AC is a both a morning dove and night owl. She can drive in the dark like nobody's business so she takes the helm when Dad needs a breather or can't see through his Benjamin Franklin 5th addition bifocals. And of course, when AC isn't out meeting new people and making friends in the hotel lobby, gas station coffee machine, camping beach site, local piggly wiggly fresh foods aisle, rafters entrance at most every river, and bikers bar (she had to pee, walked in with a full bladder and walked out with some college biker's phone number, which was quickly destroyed by Dad) then she is spending time with her biggest and baddest buddy, her dad. Getting lost looking for camp sites, getting stuck in the car during a rainstorm, playing poker in the tent on a windy Canadian hill on the side of the road, or stopping to shop local antiques shop as she forces him to reply to stuff like, "Oh isn't that cute?" or  "Wouldn't that look adorable in my house?" Yep, compatibility is everything, of course you can't both like all of the same things ;).

So why bring this topic up? What made us want to start talking about fishing partners now? Well, maybe it was the 95 degree heat. Or it could have been the fact that we ran out of water by the 7th hour and still fished 11. Perhaps it was the abundance of fish that seemed to magically find our lures at every cast. Whatever it was, some mystical force happened upon us just 2 weekends ago in our favorite of rivers that shall go unnamed. Because just after a cock crowed half past 3, Dad turned to AC and said, “You’re the best fishing partner a guy could ask for.” Had the stars suddenly realigned? Had the second coming arrived? Surely it was sun poisoning or early onset Alzheimers.  Wait, who we kidding? Definitely not early onset, he’s too old for that. AC had made it! Reel good fishing status. Her dream of ultimate fishing partner was half complete. Because despite Dad being a great fishing partner, someday she will have to find a new one. Some lucky guy out there to complete her wading duo, her other bum half, her river soulmate. And these credentials just may come in handy. But for now, she'll stick with the old man. He's still got a few good casts left in him...





Top Water Action

Twist and pose...works every time!


Slowmo Release



Off the flats











A Bass spit up a mole...holey moley!

We didn't make it in time, but we couldn't pass up a good fishing sign!


So when you stop to think about the best fishing partner you have ever had. Ask yourself this one question. Do you feel lucky? Well, do ya?

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

Cast Away,

AC & Dad




Friday, August 23, 2013

Go Fish


Not everyone can recognize a good thing when they have it in their hands. They don’t realize something was special until they’ve lost it. And lost it for good. Like your near perfect girlfriend storming out of the apartment after she has maxed out all your credit cards and “maybe” flirted with your best friend as she slams the door behind her screaming, “I’m the best you’ll ever get”. 

And then all of a sudden, you fall to your knees and start weeping because she was wearing your favorite Aerosmith t-shirt that had a resilient ketchup stain from a hot dog you had after your 4th concert and all those special memories of that shirt and how it kept you company the nights she was out partying, the days off cruising the strip blending in with the bums, and the those mornings spent watching Saturday morning cartoons (admit it, the thought still excites you) guzzling down a gallon of milk and a carton of fruit loops in front of that silly yellow sponge fella on the tube. “Oh t-shirt, I should have appreciated you more.”

Yep, once something that special is gone, it most likely stays gone. Creating an empty void that follows you around like that depression cloud from those Zoloft Ads. Honestly, someone needs to blow the stalker whistle on that thing, it is creeper to the max. You know the ad. The one that asks... Are you stressed? Always busy? Working hard? Do you get sad sometimes? Can't get enough sleep? Ummm, yes, I'm alive, duh!

That’s why it’s important to cherish what you love most for as long as you can. Take our secret river for example. Tucked away in a far off land of bears, wolves, and eagles. Guarded by the finest of Wisconsin’s wood and brush known to man. Stocked with epic smallmouth bass hiding in between perfectly placed fallen trees and glacier moved boulders drawing the ultimate diversion for an angler from the bulldoze of the world and it's petty drama. A place where we find silence, serenity, and satisfaction in a world unfamiliar to society. A place where we wish we had remembered to bring paper and pen as our minds wander to fresh ideas and thoughts that would not otherwise have been thought of had we not entered such a divine place of fishbeing. Our special, one-of-a-kind river that runs free like our hearts yearn to run. No worries, no bills, no problems.

Except, there is one problem. One day the fish will leave this river, the water will dry out, and the trees and boulders will begin to wither away. Someday, this once rare beauty, will be just a valley where even our wader boot imprints will have disappeared into the hardened soil and all that's left is a cutout of where and angler's dream use to lay. Alright, now I need a Zoloft, I feel a frowny face cloud coming on.

Cheer up folks! We're just thinking of the worst case scenario, that and the possibility of Dad dropping his freshly lit cigar in the water, oh the horror! Which is why it's best to enjoy the special things in life while you can. So, we headed to this so called fantasy river to appreciate all it has to offer and of course, cast till the sun goes down. After all, we can't let a good thing go to waste, especially when that good thing has a tail...






Twisty Bass

Ac caught this beauty at the end of our fishing trip Sunday afternoon around 4:30 pm. She waded over to the far side of the left shore and did a quick bounce cast under this tree. Turns out the fish was calling her name, because it hit her lure the second it dropped...

Lunker of the weekend caught under the fallen wood

AC admiring her catch



Dad reeling one in on the flats








Can you guess what this is?

Snapper

Got something special? Good. Cherish it as mush as you can. Because you never know when you're going to lose it. That t-shirt may just get up and leave, the fish stop biting, and the only thing you will be left with is memories. So make em good and go fish!

We're off to the UP this weekend. Wish us luck as we join the Uppers in the Escanaba and Ford rivers...

Cast Away,

AC



Friday, August 16, 2013

Invasive Species



It’s 10 am. Your shaded eyes are open as the warming sun lights up your face and glistening arms, lining the water surface with sparkling dotted reflections and the tree tops with a golden coating . You are standing knee deep in a river, somewhere. The wind gently brushes the hair that sticks out your hat to the side of your face. Only the sounds of water, birds, bugs, and faint engines of planes thousands of feet off the ground are what you hear. 

Ahh, the peace. The serenity. The…suddenly the still water you have been standing in begins to ripple like that scene in Jurassic Park. You remember! The one where the kids are in the car all by themselves and the cup of water begins to vibrate with distinct intervals. boom. First ripple is surprising but it was probably just a bug you tell yourself. Boom. Second ripple is alarming as you look around and see no signs of water disruption. BOom. Third ripple the sky begins to darken and clouds cover your once quiet and comforting sun. BOOM. Then you cautiously turn to gaze at the rivers bend and notice it. RAFTERS!!! Hundreds of them. Charging this way. Coolers, palm tree swim trunks, cheap light beer. Oh the horror. Someone please tell me I have teleported into a Jaws movie and some Great White is about to come jetting out of the water and begin feeding on the (not-so) innocent tubers, cause that would be epic! But, no. No such luck! Standing there, dumbfounded watching yellow and orange speckles of hard, water proof plastic half crushed by  every all you can eat restaurants  target market meander down this once beautiful, peaceful body of water. I can hear the river moan like a mountain mule as it’s being packed with 5 times it’s capacity carry.

Rafters!  The ultimate invasive species. The truest form of a fisherman’s arch nemesis camouflaged by friendly waves and colorful swimsuits. But do not be fooled. Sure the zebra mussel and lamprey eel are top of our list too. But when was the last time you saw a Zebra Mussel tote a cooler full of Coors light down a river and then following after it are 20-30 floating empties as a sign of either early on set alcoholism or a genuine distaste in water and appreciation for the environment. And when was the last time you saw a Lamprey Eel half naked screaming all the way down the river while getting out every once and a while to pee in the direction of a fisherman’s cast?

What happen to manners? And sportman’s etiquette. Just as a moving boater slows to pass an anchored boater avoiding risk of waves and disruption, so should the mannerisms of a rafter to a fishermen. And vice versus. You don’t see me climbing in that tube of yours mister Rafter and polluting it do you? So, why piss on my fish parade? Ok, so we got a little heated. Not all rafters are bad. But just wait until you check out the photos.

Ok so you're probably thinking, "you should know better Riverbums to set foot in rafting waters." Well turns out this river, the Little Wolf near Appleton Wi, is "usually" open for rafting downstream from the main bridge. But, due to massive rains and high water level, they decided (unbeknownst to us) on offering rafting above the main bridge. First time in 5 years. Great! So for a good 4 hours we put up with the rafts that just kept coming. Don't get us wrong, we are all for enjoying a nice raft down a beautiful river. However, this was just a crowd of rafts, everybody bunched up together barely floating down like a wet pile of soft cotton stuck in-between 2 boulders. I almost felt embarrassed for them. At times, we had to wait by a boulder or on the side of the banks in fear we would get run over. Cause, it's not like you can properly steer a raft, especially someone you can barely see their toes over their belly and has been drunk since 6 am.

We enjoy seeing the occasional kayaker or tuber. But, this wasn't just a good ole fashion day in the water. We counted close to a hundred empty beer cans, 8 pairs of sandals, 4 sunglasses, and a suspicious looking pair of black speedoes left to rot in the water. It's a shame that people can't pack out what they pack in. Especially ones just lying back doing not much of anything. Like the NY Subway on monday morning work rush or the Chicago 94 spur on a Sunday evening in early Summer or even the fast lane at Six Flags... it was too damn crowded. So, we fished for a few more hours, racking in about 10 smallies, 2 northerns, and ok we'll admit it, a few "miscasts" towards tubers. We decided to pack it in when we noticed 5 more buses full of invasive species but not before we snapped a view memories of the day...

A rafting fan recognized us from Outdoor Network as we had finished packing up and asked to take our picture, he sent it from his camera phone. Dad wasn't smiling, but I whispered before the photo snapped, "When should we tell him that we have to confiscate the camera?" and he laughed right on schedule...

The Last Fisherman
The Reverend AC preaching repentance and salvation to a small group of rafters



AC at a pass with the rafters. Get ready for the questions...

And now for questions we get asked by rafters and the answers we wish we could use...
  1. "Are you guys Fishin?" No Flounder, we're playing poker!
  2. “How’s the fishing?” Awful (cause if you say good, they’ll come back and this time with a rod too.)
  3. "What you fishing for?" Rafters
  4. “Catch anything?” Ya, Rafters
  5. “Is that a girl” No, that’s just a side effect of raftsickness. You better get out immediately, and bushwhack the rest of the way through tick infested brush as you trespass in a gun toting, Vietnam veteran's farmland who is hiding in one of the trees waiting for an intruder. And nothing says easy target than a half naked man carrying a bright yellow tube and toting Coors light  reflectors.

Dad with a glowing smallie

MidAir Bass

A northern on spinner bait



Since we still had a day left off, we decided to jam pack it with fun events like half a day in the Apple River and half a day at the famous Oshkosh Airshow...

AC in the Apple River for a quick wade

Shot from the OshKosh Airshow - Taken by Dad
An amazing reflection shot by Dad
Cast Away,

AC & Dad