Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Pay Attention

Pescuit la musca in Irlanda, anul 1955.Fly-fishing in Ireland, 1955.Video: British Pathe.

Posted by Retro Fishing on Monday, March 30, 2015

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Life Imitating Art

A True Story 
From a British fishing forum 

I had a friend who died in a car crash a few years ago after he had been away on one of his Carp Adventures. Fell asleep at the wheel apparently but that's another story. Vince used to make his own boilies and if you went around to his house it would stink of rhubarb and custard one night and the next it would be sour apple and raspberry and so on.

He was crazy about his Carping and he just went AWOL for days on end.

He was married with a daughter but he never hardly saw them so one day Stacey his wife had had enough and she left him a Dear John on the kitchen table and off she went with bags packed and the daughter. They moved in with her mother until she managed to get her own place sorted.

After a week and a half she hadn't heard anything so she went around to the house to see if he was there. Of course he wasn't as he was fishing. The letter was still there unopened so off she went back to her mothers. A few more days past and still nothing from Vince so she went back to the house again. This time the letter had been moved so he'd obviously been home but it hadn't been opened. It was on the floor under the kitchen chair. He must have knocked it off when he'd been back to the house for more supplies. Stacey thought about what she'd done and realised that leaving him wasn't the right thing to do so she went back. The thing is is that she'd left Vince for nearly 2 weeks and he hadn't even noticed!!!!

To be honest he was a kind, gentle, loving guy and everyone loved him. He just had this passion for Carp as many do and it took over his life until he died in the car crash. The car was full of gear. Rods, reels, bite alarms, bivvys, gas cookers. 

He was nuts really.


Saturday, July 11, 2015

Life Lesson # 7

If you are to raise proper children, you must - at the very least - teach them those little grains of truth and wisdom we often refer to as "life lessons".  None are self-evident, at least to children. But many will improve your life in immeasurable ways (e.g. #2: Treat women with respect; #3: Chew your food thoroughly; #5: Keep your knives sharp). It isn't always easy to teach them because some deal with difficult subject matter (e.g. #11: For the rest of your life, people* will amuse, inspire, disappoint and anger you. Often, a single person will do all of these.  Sometimes that person will be you.) But sometimes the challenge to imparting them is just that you want to do it right.  I've been losing sleep over this one, mostly because I recognize I've been so delinquent.  I learned life lesson #7 at a much younger age. My own father was very good, very early on, about this one and many of the other related life lessons.  Maybe not so much #s 4 and 13-16, but he pretty much nailed it on #s 5-9 before I was even eight years old.

[*This is also true of any device that depends upon an internal combustion engine. Coincidence?  I don't know.]

Anyway, I decided the time was nigh.

We loaded the vehicle and drove north to the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore.  When we arrived, much to the delight of my children, the lake was roily.  We weren't yet prepared for swimming, so I instructed them to say out of the water.

We took in the sights.  

Bank Swallow, Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore

Egret, Great Marsh, Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore

Little Wood Satyr, Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore

We set up camp.  I had secretly purchased two freeze-dried ice cream sandwiches for my boys. Boys like when you take a normal food and make it strange and mostly unpalatable. 

The next day dawned calm and foggy.  My kids wanted waves, but still managed to enjoy the day.  Even I got in the water.  For to be One with the Fishes.  I can't go into that right now.

During the night before, we heard several barred owls calling back and forth.  In the morning, the peewees were calling.  A red-shouldered hawk was perched in a deadfall nearby.  Some frogs still croaked.  I made the bacon and stacked in on a plate while I made the eggs. The coffee was already made.  My boys asked if they could each try a strip of bacon while they waited.  I said "Sure." and gave my wife a knowing glance.  After my younger son tried his bacon, he said to me, quite emphatically "Dad, I don't know what kind of bacon you bought for this trip, but you need to buy THIS KIND every time from now on!!"  My other son, mouth still full of bacon, muffled a "Yeah!!!!" and vigorously nodded his head.  The Time was now. 

"Boys," I said. "This is the same kind of bacon we always make at home."

There was a moment while this sank in.  They looked at each other, and then at me.

"Wait. What?  The same kind?" they both said in unison.

"The same kind," I said.

"Dad? Are you saying...?" but before they could finish, I laid it on them:

"Boys, EVERYTHING tastes better when you cook it in a campsite."

Life Lesson #7: Check.

Yeah, there's a lesson in there.

Thursday, July 2, 2015

Summer, Part One

Since I've been too busy to write, I can only assume you all are too busy to read.  So here are some pictures from May and June (Summer, Part One).  They describe summer about as well as I can.

Ben hooks a bass by the culvert.  Culvert fishing is always best 

Ben tries another pond with another culvert.

South culvert.

Here is a picture of my favorite culvert.  You may be able to see Ben in the foreground.

My 9 year old son, Little Brayshaw, took this photo.

Little Brayshaw photo.

Little Brayshaw photo.

Little Brayshaw photo.

Little Brayshaw photo.

Little Brayshaw photo.

Medium Brayshaw with bass.  Little Brayshaw with envy.

Carp make boys laugh.

Brayshaw the Elder with bass on his home pond.

T.J. Brayshaw with bass.  Photo by Little Brayshaw.

Little Brayshaw photo.

Little Brayshaw photo.

July and August are Summer, Part Two.  I hope it's as good.