We didn't catch any fish. We tried, and we tried hard. We camped at Shaffer Bend, an LCRA park on FM1431. It's a point on the northern end of the Colorado River before it flows into Lake Travis and it is absolutely beautiful. Our friend Mike came out to join us. The plan was to paddle downstream to The Narrows, catch a mess of fish, and paddle back. A waterfall and some low crossings prevented that. There were not any other campers that night, though, the next morning we were awoken by a few fly fishermen in float tubes. They looked as good as any fishermen, but I never saw them catch anything. I think that they went out there for the companionship like we did. My guess is that they also found it. The mighty Lower Colorado River is just too low at the point where we gave our finest effort. At 100+ degrees, the bass are lingering at 20-30 feet depth and where we set out was MAYBE 5 feet at the deepest. It doesn't matter, we weren't there to capture our dinner. We were there to catch some old memories and release some new ones back into those calm waters.
Chad and I have been pals since we were 14. We made fast friends then, and fishing was always a big part of that. We went fishing in some pretty interesting places with Richard Mogg back in 94, 95, and caught mostly mud cats. Later on, we spent most of our free time at Lake McKenzie up in Briscoe County, TX. It was us, Shaw, Austin, Tyler, Trent, Ian, sometimes Jeremy, and often a surprise visitor that made it all fun and fresh.
I remember my first Bass. It was a largemouth bass, and it fought like nothing I've ever encountered. In turn, I gave it my life's effort. After the initial struggle, I emerged with my 1.5 lb bass. It was a proud and noble beast. 42 ounces of primordial passion. I was finally a man, and I could tame the wild beast and provide for my basic needsd. The folks at the bait shop, who we named Arms and Snaggletooth, took my picture(in a tank top) and put it on the wall. We were all so proud.
When I was almost 17, my parents bought me a small fishing boat. It was the greatest thing you have ever seen, 14 feet of aluminum, a 30 year old Mercury 25 HP outboard, a casting deck, electrical outlets for fishfinders and trolling motor. A livewell, two padded seats, and working lights. In all of my life, I can't think of anything I was more proud of, other than the 1996 Chariot Red Chevrolet 1/2 ton shortbed pickup I towed it with.
We spent our entire senior year in High School fishing for whatever would take our bait, and I can't remember many times that eclipse these memories. Whenever I speak of my memories in High School, these stories still bring a smile to my face. These were not the best times I'll ever know, but they definitely provide a benchmark for future memories that have yet to be made.
Fishing is a humbling activity. You do your research, spend a lot of money on the things that will get you what you need, spend a lot of time doing it, and often you get nothing in return. But when you do.....there is nothing like the excitement of a hit on your line. Many times, the sensation of getting a single hit is enough. That's probably because that is the best I often do... We are used to it. The fishing is always good, it is the catching that is the problem.
Fish? What fish....
"In every species of fish I’ve angled for, it is the ones that have got away that thrill me the most, the ones that keep fresh in my memory. So I say it is good to lose fish. If we didn’t, much of the thrill of angling would be gone. –Ray Bergman
I can't wait until I can take my son fishing. I'm not that good at it, but that's not even the point. To get out there, do the best you know how, to try to connect with nature via a thin string of fishing line. I can't wait until he is scared to put the worm on the hook, or even to take the fish off of the hook. After all of these years, it still gets me excited, and I hope it always will.
