When I was very young, a friend of my dad gave to me my first fishing pole. He told my dad that just letting me hold it, would in time produce a lifelong love for fishing. Many fishing poles later, I can honestly say that I still have a great love for fishing. For those who don’t understand fishing—it’s not just about catching fish, even though that is exciting; it’s not just about being out in nature, even though that is rewarding; Fishing—is a lifelong connection between two very different worlds held together by only a thin translucent line, where one’s soul is transcended into a heavenly state of consciousness.
On August 7, 2002, a dream of mine was fulfilled, which will live richly within my memory banks forever. My dream first took shape back in 1991, after reading about a place that seemed too good to be true, where giant smallmouth bass are the norm and people are few. The following memoir is my story and experience of this God beautiful place, told in memory of my dad who also had a love for fishing.
My journey into this beautiful wilderness area began at the end of a quiet dead-end road. At first, I thought I was lost, for there was no parking lot or sign markers suggesting that I was at the right location; but after a short walk down through the tall grassy overgrowth, I found the entrance and quickly returned to my truck. After packing my fishing waders, a lunch, plenty of water and some fishing essentials into my day pack, I set out in search of my dreamt about destination. Once into the forest, I began to deeply breath in the fresh woodsy aromas and listen to the still quietness of the forest. What made this forest folic so unique and special were the towering virgin white pines and deep green carpet of ferns along the rolling and meandering footpath. After a solitary hour of hiking and praising God for the natural beauty within His creation, I caught a shimmering glimpse through the trees of my final destination.
What a beautiful place! No houses, no motor boats, and no signs of people to be found! Once along the shoreline of this crystal-clear lake, I took the time to relax and eat my lunch while soaking up the warm sunshine. After lunch, l slipped into my waders and began to explore the sandy beach shoreline of this hidden gem of a lake. It wasn’t long before I sighted in the shallows my first glimpse of the true richness of this unexploited fishery; not just one, or two, but three huge smallmouth bass cruising the shallows together. “Pinch me! I must be in Smallie heaven!”
Without hesitation, I tossed my lure and methodically and tantalizingly presented it to them, but no takers. A little further down the shoreline I saw some more huge bass, but once again none of them seemed interested in what I had to offer. I quickly switched baits thinking they must be hungry for something else, but only to have the same outcome. After several frustrating hours of spotting huge bass and tossing many different baits, I was in a state of despair and thinking to myself, “God, why have you brought me to heaven only to not let me partake of its’ bountiful fruit?” After praying about my forlorn and dejected circumstances, I put on yet another fishing lure, and something wonderful happened—I caught a nice smallie! Two casts later I caught another even bigger smallie, and on the very next cast yet another huge smallie! Finally, the fruits of my labor in hand; thanks be to my God and Creator! With that one “blessed” fishing lure I managed to tug in sixteen huge fat-bellied smallies, most of which were pushing 20 inches or bigger.
As if this was not good enough, I found hidden along the brushy shoreline a canoe with paddles, which I couldn’t resist borrowing and taking for a ride out to the island in the middle of the lake. Finally topping off the day, I even happened to watch a golden eagle soaring above the lake. All in all what an awesome day which will never be forgotten. Nor will I ever forget the memories I hold dear of fishing with my dad.
In loving memory of my dad who hung up his fishing pole on Sept. 19, 2023