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What makes them memorable isn’t allways the most fish...

Mine that I still remember today

12 years old - Dad took me to a pond where we caught sunfish as big as a pie plate

19 years old - Upstate NY
- found a hole in a creek off Lake Ontario that had a 20ft hole with a massive old oak in it - Pulled huge Small mouths out it for a hour
- Rome / Utica NY area in the fall, used to fish the low head dams coming off the Erie Canal with lures and collobered tons of walleye and bass
- Rome NY in a creek by Griffiss AFB - had an old fart show me what flys to use on trout and limited out in 15 minutes when it started to rain, up till then I did ALOT of casting
- Spring walleye runs using shad raps in creeks where the eyes of your rod freeze up

27 years old - Crete Greece
- Pulling up red snapper (little guys but tasted better than anything ever) in 40-80 ft of crystal clear blue water.
- Spear hunting Octopus when snorkeling in the Marina and at the beach

Last couple of years -
- Spoonsbill fishing on the OSAGE river in missouri... what a blast
- Blue Cat fishing off trueman lake in the spring, we pulling in over 300lbs of fish in a couple hours
- Kansas City, KAW river - My fishing partner pulled out a 78lb Flathead catfish... wow

There are more, but looking back it’s been a pretty good run.

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Had been a fisherman all my life (I'm 76). A few years ago was invited to try fly fishing with a friend near his home in Utah. My very first fish on a fly was a 24" rainbow trout! 5-weight outfit.

Catching a 34 lb salmon on a steelhead rod. Bloodied my knuckles during a 30+ minute fight.

Catching my first marlin on 20 lb line was also memorable.


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Kello Lake Lodge in northern Ontario. We had been going to Canada fly in fishing for a lot of years and wanted to try a new place. I talked to one of the guys in the shop and he recommended this place. Little did I know his tongue was in his cheek and he still had a bug up his butt for office management due to a labor dispute. We got to the fly out spot and checked in for the next day. The pilots were all sitting around drinking and smoking and they were using broken Beaver cylinder heads for ash trays. I asked what happens when the airplane blows a radial engine cylinder like that? "The plane drops like a stone" he told me. A real confidence builder for the next day's fly in.

We flew in and floated over to what was left of the dock. First thing the pilot did was bolt for the cabin and clean out any worthwhile can goods that another group might have left behind. The dock was full of holes and so was the cabin. The four of us did a mouse drive to get at least some of them out of the cabin. We put popcorn outside to feed some of the mice to help keep them outside. The door hung by one hinge. The screens had holes in them such that the bugs didn't even need to slow down to get in the cabin. Larry did the best he could patching the screens with twist ties. The gas refrigerator didn't work and the junked one outside was full of dead worms the smell of which waffled through the windows. Water was from a bucket out of the lake and the stove pipe on the wood stove was full of rust holes and just barely holding together. No fish cleaning facility, so filleting on a paddle was it for the few fish that we actually did catch. The motors didn't work well and we had to sink a boat in the shallow water for a live well to keep our fish alive because we had no ice or refrigeration. The bunks were a plywood board with a foam pad on them. The outhouse had a cone under the seat that I needed to knock down with the boat paddle. Written all over on the walls were such reassuring writings like: "The plane is a day late". "No fish." "This place sucks." And my favorite: "Booking a trip to Kello Lake Lodge gives true meaning to the phrase go f uck yourself". Oh, and our plane was hours late too. And true to form, the first guy out of the plane running for the cabin was the pilot to see what we left for the next group. A week there was more like serving time than having a vacation. We could all hardly wait to get back home to work again. We had to restrain Larry when the owner came up and asked us to book again for the next year.

We have had some wonderful fishing trips to Canada, but the unfortunate truth is that here are some unscrupulous camp owners that have these one and done camps that can sour a state side guy on Canadian fishing forever.


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Windfall reminded me of another fishing trip in British Columbia, with quite the opposite outcome from his.

Decades ago my wife and I flew out of Campbell River, in a DeHavilland Beaver, and were dropped off at an extremely remote lake far from any sight or sound of man. There was an excellent mining tent setup on a wooden platform, a small boat with motor, a cooler full of iced-down food and drinks. Everything was pristine clean and showed a high degree of care, quality and good sense.

You practically had to hide behind a tree to bait your hook! There was an enormous tree trunk at the water's edge that, once our stay was finished, had become known as "The Love Log". (Use your own imagination) A number of days there wound up being much too short a stay by the time a Cessna 185 came to pick us up. Truly a bunch of great float pilots who ran this.


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Without question a trip on the Fraser River in BC. One of eighteen over three days.

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WOW !! Congrats...

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Fly-ins and drive-ins to Ontario with my son and good friends. Each one provided wonderful memories. Lots of fish, lots of laughs, great scenery. Also a day on Shoepack Lake in Minnesota when we caught 13 Muskies.


Not a real member - just an ordinary guy who appreciates being able to hang around and say something once in awhile.

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One would have been my first time to Wabigoon, Ontario. In 1949, I was five years old.


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Hands down … trip to Alaska with 12 yr old grandson in July 2018.

Alaska 2018


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One memorable fishing trip was taking two boats to Tortuga island from San Carlos Mexico in the early 1980s. It is 60 miles due West in the sea of Cortez. The mainland disappeared and the baja began to rise on the western horizon. When we got to Tortuga the Baja was 25 miles away.

The boats were my 19 ft center console and friend's 28 ft cabin cruiser. When we got to the island there were patches of seaweed on the surface. I put out two skirted lures and trolled them at a brisk rate to keep them skittering on top. The first dorado I had ever caught made a pressure hump on the surface as he roared in from the side to hit the lure. The 30 lb line burned off the reel. I was alone in the boat and it was quite a battle. It took some effort to gaff him and get him into the boat. He was 4 ft long! I continued to troll and caught two more. One of the teenagers from the larger boat joined me. We caught a total of 9 dorados that day. All were 3 1/2 ft to 4 ft long.

We left early in the morning and returned at sunset. When I left the boat to walk on the dock it felt like it was moving! Apparently being in a rocking boat that long made the stationary land feel strange. That was the only time I experienced it.

I would't consider going into Mexico these days so it will remain one of the most memorable fishing trips with no chance of a repeat.

Last edited by Azshooter; 12/05/19.
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I have three.
My Dad loved fishing the Adirondack spring brooks for brookies and a month before he turned 87 I discovered a beaver dam about two miles from his old farm. It was about 2 acres and about 2.5, 3 years old. Dad was dealing with a very weak heart. I dug some worms, loaded his 10 ft aluminum pram and fishing gear into the truck and convinced him that we could drive to the edge of the pond. He was barely able to make it from the truck to the boat. We fished for about a half hour when he finally got a bite. He landed it and asked me to open it up to see what they were feeding on. Little black bugs. He had a small zippered leather tobacco pouch in which he carried an assortment of hooks. Took out his smallest hook, tied it on, and baited it with a tiny chunk of worm. BOOM! Trout on! Those Brookies hit as fast as he could get his hook in the water. I was busy cutting little chunks of worms and stuffing trout into his old creel. Some of the largest Brookies I have ever seen came out of that pond. He was laughing and having a wonderful time. In less than a half hour I said, "Hey Dad, your creel is getting full!" He stopped and asked how many "we" had. I didn't know. His heart was now acting up again and he needed to stop the excitement and arm movement.

Got home and Dad laid down while I took care of the trout. Counted, measured, took pictures, and set up to clean them. One measured 16", two 14"+-, several over a foot, smallest was 8". I had fished those Adirondack spring brooks all my life and a 10" Trout was considered a big fish. Dad surveyed the catch, teared up and whispered, "that's the greatest catch of Trout I've ever had in all my life." (31) That was his last fishing trip. His heart stopped a few months after.

Second event.
Several years previous to the above event my Dad and I took my oldest son for our first fishing event together. We took a small 12 ft boat to a little nearby lake. Dad rowed us out a short distance while I readied my son baiting his hook and rigging his line with a bobber. He tossed out his bait and I began getting my pole ready to wet a worm. The little guy spoke up saying,"daddy, my bobber's gone." Caught his first Trout and it was bigger than any Trout I have ever caught. He tends to out do me in whatever venture we find ourselves in.

Third event.
I have 3 sons whom I love deeply and Fathers Day has always been important to me. One year our middle son, then in his teens, took me fishing for Fathers Day in a special place he had found. The Trout were hesitant to bite and he caught every one we pulled out of the water that day. I have fished with many guys but he remains the only person to ever take me fishing. A memorable day. Thanks son.

Last edited by Rug3; 12/05/19.

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Okay, we do have some really good ones too NOT like Kello Lake Lodge, but we do talk about that one as memorable. Best one was when a trap shooting buddy asked if I wanted to go to Alaska to fish? Well sure, that was always a bucket list trip. Not real expensive either because we rented an older van away from the Anchorage airport, drove to Homer and four of us rented a bed and breakfast. We hired a guide and hit the salmon really hard in the Kenai River the first day and I blistered my hand reeling in salmon about every third cast. Then because the ocean was flat as a mill pond, we went for a half day charter boat trip for halibut. There weren't but about 10 people on the whole boat and the first fish I caught was a 93# halibut. That never happens on those closer in half day trips, but it did that time. We filled up on our limit of halibut that day and every day after that and we each flew back with 50# of flash frozen halibut fillets for $20.00 each extra baggage charge. We ate caribou, halibut, king crab, fresh salmon, saw some great scenery, didn't spend a whole lot more than we did going on a fly in to Canada, didn't have the hassle of the border, and could actually bring back way more better tasting fish.


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Most memorable?

Too many, and the memories are too precious. Some that stand out are:

Alaska 2018, fly fishing for silvers with my 91 year old dad and my 18 year old niece. Wow, what a trip! Lots of fish, lots of bears. Dad and I have been fishing the Tsiu River for 20 years or so. Always a great trip.

BC - nearly twenty years ago? Fly in trip with dad and my youngest son. Tons of rainbow trout on the fly rod, living in a rustic camp. Good stuff.

My son's first fish - a crappie on a fly rod at a local pond here in Washington. Lots of smiles that day.

So many good memories of being on the water, alone or with good friends/family, trying for steelhead, salmon, trout, bass, perch or... Whatever!

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One of my favorite fishing memories is one with my young boys on the Columbia River, many years ago.
We were fishing for sturgeon in my brothers boat. The boys had not caught anything bigger than a trout or catfish before this trip.
Those kids had a blast hauling in under size sturgeon. They were amazed that they weren’t legal size, since most were in the three foot range!
I have grandkids now and hope to repeat that experience for them 🎣


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The one that makes me smile every time was a trip to a local lake with Dad. We were finessing walleyes when I hooked a monster northern. After what seemed like all day (6# line) the fish is tiring and Dad gets the net into the water. I'm leading the fish in when he sees the net and does a 180 with a fantastically huge splash. Dad gets soaked. Talk about madder than a wet hen! Closest I'd seen him come to loosing his cool but I managed not to laugh. I miss the old guy.


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Around 5 or 6 years ago I was fishing with my Daughter Sandi on Clear Lake in California. I live here so I am pretty familiar with what is going on as far as the Bass bite goes. We were fishing along in late summer and she said lets go to the State Park area and throw some frogs and Horney Toads across the mats. I told here that nothing has been happening there but she insisted we go so off we went. I told her to take the front of my Bass boat as I didn't want to waste any energy on non productive water. Her first cast across a mat and there was a huge blow-up but missed. She threw back again and a seven and a half ate the Toad. I told her it was just luck as it was probably the only fish in the area as nobody has been catching anything. Two cast late one just over eight took her Toad. Then all hell broke loose for the next hour and a half. You better believe that old Dad got up and with the action. It was unbelievable the action we got. Landed fish, lost fish and even had fish and I mean good size fish go airborn missing the frogs and toads. At the end we were both tired and worn out but happy campers. Told one friend what happened but swore him to secrecy as we were going to do it again the next day. The next day fished it for an hour and not a single bite. Apparently we hit it just right.

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Lots of great trips in my book but the one I treasure most was at a high lake in Colorado back when my son was about ten years old. We were fly fishing and catching cutthroats as fast as you could get the fly in the water. We had the mountain stove going and were frying fish and he must have ate eight of them. Hiking out the last day he said he was gonna be a fly fisherman forever.

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Mentioned this in the past. For several summers I piloted the gear and a few scouts in the big raft on about a 95 mile whitewater run down Oregon's Deschutes river. With the exception of the next to last day we broke camp, floated, and made camp each day. That left little time for more relaxing endeavors for us adults. On all of those trips we had only one kid express a sincere interest in fishing, and he exercised his Zebco and bucktails to no end at every opportunity. Sadly not a fish to be had, and on the fifth day he lost the nut for the winding handle. As we did not have to float that day and were camped on water familiar to me, I pulled out my fly rod after dinner, and we went up to a run that always held fish. I rigged up a couple flies for summer steelhead.

Technique was to cast about 2 rod lengths of line and just do an across and downstream swing. Second cast brought about a 12- inch rainbow to the bank and it was released. About the fifth cast an 18-inch mountain whitefish hooked up and our scout was through the roof with excitement. Largest fish he'd ever been into. About 5 casts later he had a substantial thump with the line stopping and holding firm in the lower third of its swing. He said he could feel some weight, but the fish was holding, and we had a brief discussion on getting off the handle and letting fish run if it seriously took off. My next suggestion was to tighten up a bit and just see what happened. He gave the rod a lift, and about a 30 inch steelhead came flying out of the water getting about 6 ft into the air. For the next 15 minutes or so the fish was all over the river and I was doing my best praying that it would stay hooked up on the barbless iron. God heard me, and we eventually beached about a 12-lb hatchery fish that we were allowed to retain. He was the talk of the camp for the rest of the evening.

That was 15+ years ago, and we still talk of that day every time we meet. Over the years I've taken similar and larger fish, but that one will stay in the memory banks forever. That event also brought him solidly into the fly fishing realm. One of the best of times.


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Freshwater would be the BWCA hands-down.....


Biden's most truthful quote ever came during his first press conference, 03/25/21.
Drum roll please...... "I don't know, to be clear." and THAT is one promise he's kept!!!
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My Mother passed in May of 2000 from pancreatic cancer. My Dad and I had always talked about doing a fly-in trip to Canada. We booked our trip in August of the same year, to make sure we fulfilled our dream trip before either of us were unable to do so. We flew out of Red Lake Ontario to a place called Bull Moose Camp for 10 days of the best walleye fishing we had ever experienced. My Dad took his own life a year later, unable to cope with the loss of his wife of 47 years. I miss them both, immensely. That trip was 17 years ago.

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