By Cody Bloomsburg cbloomsburg@journalnet.com
Even though I can express everything I know about fishing on a 3-by-5 index card and still have room to scribble the prologue to “The Canterbury Tales,” I have always wanted to pick up fishing as a solid hobby. However, I have been too worried about making a complete fool out of myself to give it a try.
I hadn't fished in more than six years, and before that my angling experience was mostly limited to drowning worms in Lake Coeur d’Alene. It was a good day so long as I pulled out enough perch, sunfish or bullhead to make at least a plate full for my grandma to pan fry for me.
Recently, I swallowed my pride and gave it a shot. Surprisingly, I found the fishing community to be very laid-back and full of people willing to impart valuable information for the low price of a friendly conversation.
The idea was for Journal photographer Joe Kline and me to head to Crystal Springs Pond, where we would meet up with Matt Kreizenbeck, the Idaho Department of Fish and Game’s regional fishing and boating access coordinator. Joe has about the same amount of fishing experience as I do, so he agreed to come along and shoot some photos in exchange for gleaning a few tips.
The pond, located on the north end of American Falls Reservoir, is stocked with hatchery rainbow trout. Matt led us to one of the docks and began a refresher course in fishing. It lasted about four hours and yielded zero fish.
Eventually, Matt had to go back to work. Joe and I stuck around for a few more hours to try and land one of the fish that everyone else on the pond that day was catching right in front of us.
An hour had passed since Matt had left and neither Joe nor I had gotten a bite. We decided to try another spot, taking Matt’s advice to cover as much water as possible.
Across the pond, three guys were standing on a narrow island accessed by a short wooden walkway. Unlike us, it seemed like one of them would catch a fish at regular intervals. Joe and I agreed that we needed to know how they were doing it so we wouldn’t return to the office as failures.
Setting foot on the small island, one of the guys expressed his concern that there wasn’t enough room for the five of us. They became more at ease after I explained Joe and I were just fishing newbies, having no luck and looking for any help we could get. Dan Wilson, the first guy on the Island, laughed and introduced himself, and so did his friends Larry Farris and Dave Allen.
Dan looked at our poles with an experienced eye and diagnosed our problems. We needed to take the bobbers off, put more split shot on, change to the appropriate sized hook, and put on a contraption called a Corky. Larry suggested we put on even more split shot and that the fish were biting on the green Corkies.
I explained that neither Joe nor I had any such equipment, as the tackle box I had bought at Wal-mart the night before didn’t come with much, despite the promise made by the packaging that this box contained everything I would need to catch fish. In truth I don’t think Wal-mart could legally sell everything I would need to catch fish on my own. I’m not sure, but I don’t think you can buy dynamite in Idaho without some sort of license.
Dan and Larry quickly set in rigging our poles for us and then showing us where to cast.
Within two minutes the tip of my pole twitched. I was writing notes for the story, but the motion caught my eye. I dropped my notepad and descended on the pole like a bald eagle swooping in on an Alaskan salmon.
Unlike a bald eagle, I had no composure or grace. I yanked on the pole like I was setting the hook in marlin the size of a Volkswagen. I never landed that fish, but Dan, Larry and Dave all got a good laugh at my excitement.
As I plunked the tackle into the pond again, Dan told me about the nuances of setting a hook in a trout’s mouth. The key thing was not getting too excited, he said, just give it enough of a tug to set the hook—I wasn’t landing a Great White after all.
I saw the tip of my pole twitch again. This time, I played it cool. I picked up my pole and waited for another twitch. Nothing. I put my pole down.
Dan yelled at me to pick my pole up. I picked my pole up, and held it for a few minutes before giving up and setting it back down.
Dan groused at me again so I picked it back up once more, and shortly thereafter felt the line grow taught. I gave the pole a more controlled yank.
Dan coached me as I reeled in a 15-inch rainbow. I had still over-reacted on the hook setting, he informed me, but over all, I wasn’t doing bad.
As the fish came to shore Dan, Larry and Dave all showed more excitement over my achievement than I had seen them display while landing fish of their own.
I returned to the office with a sunburned forehead and photographic proof that not only did I catch one, but that I grin like a moron after I land a fish — a face I can’t wait to make again.