The connection that ties with fishing

man in boat
Fishing is in my blood

Even tho it’s still only February and the boat is still in the mist of it’s hibernation the count down to my biggest passion is already begun. That passion is open water fishing. Most of the time our deepest passions have there roots dug pretty deeply with in us. For fishing is no different.

I learned the basics has young child tagging along with my grandfather. Tho not every trip with always successful looking back I learned much more than how to love and enjoy chasing pan fish. I also picked up a lot of lessons that would pay off later in life. Skills like patients and just the over all joy of getting out on the water for the way. To this day I can remember the fun of prepping the fish we caught in the kitchen for all of those fish fry’s.

Unfortunately my grandfather suffered a major stroke at an early point in my life which derailed my time in the outdoors for to many years. While survived and lived on for many years even living long enough to meet almost almost of my own children and play a role in their life’s.

My life wound up drifting very much from the water or the woods. I spent most of teenage years and beyond floating thru the unstable and crazy world of music while ignoring my mental health issues.

While still learning from the lessons he had left to teach from the chair or bed he would life out his final years and day from. No matter the physical state he was he did have a huge part in shaping who I am.

In those final days of his life I found the outdoors beginning to call to me. It was indeed time in my life that I heed that calling. The first step back towards the outdoors came in the form of a simple fishing trip with my kids. Over time the idea of fishing has proved to be hit or miss with kids.

In the days following his passing I found myself on the shore with a fishing rod in my hand. The words still slip my grasp to convey how fishing helped me cope with his death. Still there isn’t a trip to the water that I don’t find myself pausing and thinking of him. In a lot of ways my passion fueled by the passion I remember him having and the connection I still feel to my grandfather when I am out there.

Yes my passion for fishing has changed over the years. I just have my own stories, interests, and styles that have changed so much. Nowadays instead of chasing pan fish in the old Bayliner. I’m throwing my tiny boat in the back of my truck chasing bass. Over time I’ve grown to lust after countless other species but bass are what this man dreams of.

The mental picture I conjure up when fishing
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