Karla's Kolumn: Fond fishing memories

A few weeks ago in his column, John Davis wrote about a few of his fishing memories and that got me reminiscing about some of my favorite fishing memories. What better time than summer time to share some fishing stories. After all, summer time is fishing time, except for those insane folks who enjoy going ice fishing.

While it has been several years since I have been fishing, I have fond memories dating way back to when I was just a youngster.

Every summer we would take an extended camping trip, usually near lakes or streams, sometimes up in the Bear Tooths, sometimes in the Wind River Range and later in the Big Horn Mountains.

I loved, and still do when given the chance, lake fishing, compared to creek fishing. When starting out my father would help bait our hooks and get us kids set up with bobber and sinkers and we would cast out and wait for the bobber to bob signifying we had a fish. I had the patience when I was younger to wait and watch for the bobber. But later, as I grew older, my patience wore thin and I would bring a good book to read and look up after every page to see what the bobber was doing. I had the best of both worlds - fishing and reading.

I remember one fine day, as the youngest and most inexperienced fisherman, I out-fished everyone. It was a great day.

I remember hunting for nightcrawlers and worms before camping trips and even catching grasshoppers before going fishing. That was about as much fun as the fishing, especially for the tomboy in me.

And yes, as I grew older I was able to bait my own hook.

As much as I loved fishing with worms in the lakes I later used lures but never had as much success as with worms and a bobber.

I have fewer fond memories of creek or stream fishing because well, I just never got the knack of finding the right fishing holes. And as I grew older I made a liar out of those bumperstickers "A bad day of fishing is better than a good day working." If we went creek fishing I usually ended up going on hikes around the area because my patience grew thin, well OK if I didn't catch anything right away I usually just wandered off.

I also remember both our family dog, and later my dog Jake (you knew I would get a dog in this column somehow right?) busy running back and forth keeping track of everyone. With our family dog he had five people along the creek bank to keep track of and that kept him very busy all day long.

Along with not having a knack for creek fishing, my other problem with creek fishing is if there is a tree or bush within a two-mile radius I will be sure to get snagged on it, no matter where that tree is in relation to the creek.

One day while fishing along a creek with my parents and the dog Jake I, of course, got snagged on a piece of wood across the creek. I leaned across in hopes of getting it unsnagged and, yup, you guessed it, fell in, in the deepest part of the creek, up to my waist. OK, OK, for some of you that's not very deep.

My dog Jake was there and I let out a scream because the water was a bit cold. Jake took off and I thought great, my hero, Lassie wouldn't have run off. Well unbeknownst to me at the time Jake took off running to find my mother. He ran up to her and then ran back to me. Unlike with Lassie, no one apparently understood Jake and my mother didn't give it another thought until I came walking with my pants totally drenched.

Unfortunately, but not unexpectedly, that was not the only time I fell in the creek.

The one aspect of creek fishing I loved was popping those fish out when I was lucky enough to get one to bite my hook. My father always taught me to yank to set the hook. Well I always yanked hard enough to hook the fish and throw him up on the bank, all in one swoop. It always provided good laughs for anyone watching. I just wanted to make sure the fish didn't get away.

FYI – that doesn't work well when lake fishing.

Creek fishing holds one of my favorite fishing memories though. When I met my husband Alan he was (is still if he has the time) an avid fly fisherman. He tried to teach me and I had about as much success as with worms. Good thing he ties his own flies since I lost many flies in bushes along creek banks.

But the memory comes with Alan and Jake. Alan taught Jake how to fish. Jake would wait behind him (sometimes patiently, sometimes not) until Alan caught a fish and as Alan would bring it closer Jake would go in and retrieve the fish and bring it to the bank. He had a "soft mouth" so since Alan likes to catch and release Jake was the perfect fishing buddy. I loved to just sit on the bank and watch the two of them fish.

My other most favorite fishing memory is, of course, lake fishing. My father and I were fishing at Twin Lakes. The fishing had been horrible but a day of fishing with my dad was better than doing anything else. We cast out with worms and bobbers and my dad proceeded to teach me to play poker.

It was a perfect afternoon with a perfect ending. As the wind came up we decided to call it a day and as I was reeling in I caught a nice-sized trout.

A perfect fishing day. A perfect fishing memory.

Do you have a fishing memory? Email me at [email protected] and we'll share them on our Facebook page and website.