Hank's First Fishing Trip

Everyone talks about their first fishing trip.  Well, I don't remember my first fishing trip, and I don't want Hank, my first kiddo, to remember his either.


I want him to remember great times that we have had going fishing together, just like I remember a few good times fishing with my dad when I was young.  One time in particular, my dad, my brother, and I, took an old canoe out on the Blanco River.  We paddled that sucker way up stream to set a few lines for some catfish.  We only caught one catfish, but it was enough to bring home for dinner.  I don't remember much else from the trip, other than the chicken liver we used for bait, but I remember going, not because it was my first trip, but because it was fun trip.  I don't want Hank to remeber his first trip either.

I want Hank to remember fishing as a part of his life.  I want fishing to always be there for him, as it has been for me.  To be there in a way that not much else can.  I want Hank to remember specific trips, some with me and some not, but I don't want him to remember his first trip.

Remembering his first trip means that I waited too long to take him.

So, I decided to take him out with me this weekend.  He won't remember it, and heck, he didn't even fish for very long. 

My wife, my mom, and I, in the car.  I was not thrilled to have my picture taken.

We first drove out to a little spot on the Frio River.  The water was shallow, crystal clear, and very cold.  There was not a fish to be seen in that stretch of the river, so I took off his shoes and he experienced the river.  Throwing rocks, looking at bugs, and enjoying life.

There were no fish there, and I wanted Hank to at least catch a little bluegill or something, so we loaded up and headed for the Nueces River.  There, we pulled out his little rod and a container of night-crawlers (like I said, I wanted him to catch something.)  I had brought along a fly rod, but I did not even get it out of the car.  I was focused on him, and making sure that he was enjoying the trip.  That was the goal.

He has been practicing casting and reeling around the house for the past month or two.  He still can't really do it, but he is not even two yet, so I think he is still ahead of the fishing curve.  If he is not throwing a baseball, or making his tractors dig, then he is begging me to "cast it."  He is always pulling me out of my chair, saying, "cast it, cast it, I wanna cast it."

So we cast it into the water, which he thought was "awesome," and he enjoyed it for a couple minutes.  However, he quickly got tired of holding the rod, and he wanted for, "Daddy do it," while he sat there and watched for another 15 minutes or so.

Eventually, he got tired of it.  We did not catch anything, and if I were there alone I would have kept fishing, but Hank was done.  We didn't even catch a single fish.  But all that is alright.  Getting skunked from time to time is a part of fishing.

I don't want to force anything on him.  I want him to enjoy it.  There is no quicker way to burn a kid out on something that to force it upon him.  So, we packed up and headed home.

He won't remember this trip.  He won't remember his first fishing trip, but fishing will be a part of his life.

He will make his own fishing memories as he grows and continues to go fishing, if he wants to.  And I will continue to take him with me, for as long as he wants me to.

He may not remember it, but I will remember Hank's first fishing trip.