About a month ago, I was all settled in to write about how great the last year had been, at least from an angling perspective. And it was. As far as I’m concerned, it’s the best year of fishing I’ve had since fishing worked its way back into my life.
But, from what I can tell, this blog is an excellent look back at the year I had. I had some good outings (here and here), I finally figured out a local lake (here) and I got to go fly fishing with my dad (here).
I don’t really think I need to talk about the year that was. What I am excited to start thinking about is the year that’s only just getting started.
[This is the fifth in a series of posts about somewhat unconventional advice for becoming a better angler. It’s not tips, tricks or tactics, as such, but suggestions for becoming an overall better angler that you might not otherwise think of.]
If there is one thing I’m envious of, it’s people who can keeping fishing journals.
I say this because I can’t.
I’ve tried, but like pretty much every attempt I’ve ever made to keep something like this–travel journals, day planners, marking calendars on the wall, etc.–it just ends up being something I stop doing after only a few attempts. It’s just the way I tend to be with stuff like that. Heck, it almost happened with this blog.
My first fishing trip was one of those trips that always stick with you. A buddy and I met up halfway between where he lived and where I lived to do some walleye fishing. We only had a few days to get our fishing in and we were hoping to enjoy some solid fishing.
What followed was about two and a half days of absolutely terrible fishing. We tried everything and managed to get nothing, until the very last possible moment when my friend hooked into a nice pike.
We were both relieved to have caught something not only because we it meant we wouldn’t be eat mac and cheese that night, but it also meant that we hadn’t gotten skunked.
Fishing is a funny thing. One minute I’m writing about how the fishing season is coming to a close, the next I’m off on some river, dangling flies under an indicator and getting excited about the next season of fishing: winter.
This year will be the first year that I really do any winter fishing. Fly fishing that is. I do a little bit of ice fishing when the ice is thick enough–I’m from Ontario, it’s how we make the six months of winter easier–and I have a spot that I like to go to to practice my casting.
There’s a lake not too far from me that I fish all the time.
I’ve talked about it before and, despite the fact that, historically, the fishing has been terrible, I keep going back there.
Some days, I really couldn’t help but wonder why I kept going back.
[This is the fourth in a series of posts about somewhat unconventional advice for becoming a better angler. It’s not tips, tricks or tactics, as such, but suggestions for becoming an overall better angler that you might not otherwise think of.]
When it comes to becoming a better angler, fewer things help mote than actually spending time on the water. After all, you’ll never catch fish if you don’t wet a line every once in a while.
Most of us spend a good portion of our time fishing fairly close to home. As much as we’d like to get out there and explore every lake, those special trips to the waters we’ve been dreaming of only happen a handful of times a season.
For some, this isn’t exactly an ideal situation. It’s easy to get bored when you fish the same few lakes again and again.
Personally, there’s a benefit to doing so that most people don’t realize. In fact, I’d go so far as to say spending as much time as you can on one particular lake is even more beneficial than spreading yourself over a handlful of different lakes.
I took a bit of time the other day to hit up a local lake.
When I first started thinking about heading out there, I hadn’t planned on doing serious fishing. Just a bit of shore fishing and maybe a stop or two on the drive to see what the creek that flows out of that lake was doing.
When I woke up that day, though, it was beautiful. The sun was shining, for one. It hadn’t been shining much lately, so I took the hint from mother nature and threw my canoe on top of my car and made my way out to the lake.