It was the summer of 1953; I was 14 and my mom and dad and I were on vacation in Yellowstone National Park.
Fishing in the Yellowstone River was a big thing in the park, and there was an abundance of seasoned fishermen focusing on catching many of the cutthroat trout in the river. The rigs they had were impressive - special fishing rods and spinning reels, wading boots, creels, fishing flies in their hats, etc. I was really taken in with all that they were doing.
My dad asked me if I wanted to do some fishing - "Well, sure, dad!"
We went the economy route. Dad bought me a length of leader line and a Colorado spinner. We cut a branch off a sapling and tied the line to the tip of the branch, and we marched down to the river.
The river was crowded with fishermen, up and down the river as far as I could see. Did I feel outclassed? Sure. Did I feel that I was out of the running? Naw. I felt I could make up for my lack of experience and equipment with sheer enthusiasm and maybe some beginner's luck.
Looking down into a comparatively shallow portion of the river where we approached it, I saw a marvelous sight. A big fish. I took my rigged rig and dropped the Colorado spinner right in front of his nose. It didn't take long. He bit.
What was I do do next? I hollered to my dad that I had hooked a fish - he told me to just drag it out of the water onto the shore! ..and that's what I did.
Dad, my mom and I stood there admiring that big trout on the ground, then flopping around in its death dance.
One of those well-equipped fisherman came splashing out of the water to where we were standing - in his regulation hip boots and with all the trimmings including a well-festooned hat.
"What didja catch it with, kid?" He exclaimed. I held up my rig, and told him "A Colorado spinner!" He then asked "How long ya been fishin' here?" I told him about two minutes.
I never saw someone that annoyed in my life. He threw down his special hat, and exclaimed that he had been fishing there for over two hours and hadn't caught a thing. He also spit out a few special words that my dad sometimes used when things weren't going very right...
To make a long story short, we enjoyed a very special meal of fried trout that evening, and I was a very happy lad. Here's a pic that my dad took of my catch.
John
Fishing in the Yellowstone River was a big thing in the park, and there was an abundance of seasoned fishermen focusing on catching many of the cutthroat trout in the river. The rigs they had were impressive - special fishing rods and spinning reels, wading boots, creels, fishing flies in their hats, etc. I was really taken in with all that they were doing.
My dad asked me if I wanted to do some fishing - "Well, sure, dad!"
We went the economy route. Dad bought me a length of leader line and a Colorado spinner. We cut a branch off a sapling and tied the line to the tip of the branch, and we marched down to the river.
The river was crowded with fishermen, up and down the river as far as I could see. Did I feel outclassed? Sure. Did I feel that I was out of the running? Naw. I felt I could make up for my lack of experience and equipment with sheer enthusiasm and maybe some beginner's luck.
Looking down into a comparatively shallow portion of the river where we approached it, I saw a marvelous sight. A big fish. I took my rigged rig and dropped the Colorado spinner right in front of his nose. It didn't take long. He bit.
What was I do do next? I hollered to my dad that I had hooked a fish - he told me to just drag it out of the water onto the shore! ..and that's what I did.
Dad, my mom and I stood there admiring that big trout on the ground, then flopping around in its death dance.
One of those well-equipped fisherman came splashing out of the water to where we were standing - in his regulation hip boots and with all the trimmings including a well-festooned hat.
"What didja catch it with, kid?" He exclaimed. I held up my rig, and told him "A Colorado spinner!" He then asked "How long ya been fishin' here?" I told him about two minutes.
I never saw someone that annoyed in my life. He threw down his special hat, and exclaimed that he had been fishing there for over two hours and hadn't caught a thing. He also spit out a few special words that my dad sometimes used when things weren't going very right...
To make a long story short, we enjoyed a very special meal of fried trout that evening, and I was a very happy lad. Here's a pic that my dad took of my catch.
John
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