Post by Petey on Nov 1, 2008 11:57:28 GMT -5
Two Sundays ago Chloe and I took the boat up to Miller’s Island boat ramp on the Clinch River and put in. We had been trout fishing a couple of times before to no avail. We went this time with a purpose to catch my daughter her first trout. She was completely gung-ho in the idea for about the first 10 minutes. After that it was entertain Chloe until we could find some action. We talked of mistletoe, beavers, princess, ponies, water horses and jellyfants. The entire time here we sit with rising trout on either holding a 2’ princess rod and a pinkus walmartus on the drift. After about 30 minutes of not even getting nibble and waning interest from my daughter I realized I needed to change the dynamics of what I was doing and approach this whole thing a bit differently.
I unsheathed my trusty 9’ 5wt. Thomas and Thomas from the rod holder, removed the tiny indicator and proceeded to cast out about 30-40 feet of line. I then showed Chloe just how to hold the rod, to point the rod tip down and to hold on. When she felt a tug, she needed to start reeling. I then pulled anchor and started working my way back and forth across the river. Every 5 seconds Chloe would turn around, “Daddy is it tugging yet?”, and I would answer “No, not yet. You will know when it does.” About the 10th “Is it tugging yet” the rod started to jack knife towards the water. “Its tugging, Its tugging” she screams jumping up and down giggling a little girls giggle, I tell her to start reeling and at this she became confused. With in the next couple of seconds the fish was gone. Telling a 4 year old to start reeling I come to find is not in their every day vocabulary, but at least she learned what the tugging felt like. Needless to say, her attention had been harnessed. I checked the bugs and told her we were going to do the same thing again. This time, when the line started to tug, she needed to take that little nob in her left hand and start moving it in circles.
I repositioned her hands, reminded her to keep her rod tip down and to be ready. This time around there was nothing but silence from the front of the boat. She was keyed in on the possibility of catching a fish. With-in just in a couple of minutes of rowing her rod once again was jack-knifing towards the water. This time she didn’t turn around, she started reeling. She reeled as hard and fast and she could, the entire time I am coaching from the back “Rod tip up, Rod tip up”. As I reached over the boat and grabbed the line, my daughter had turned into a squealing pogo stick. "Dad you caught a fish, you caught a fish!". I said "No honey, You caught a brown trout!" "I caught a brown trout?" responded the squealing pogo stick. "Yes, you caught a pretty little brown trout." said the proud father. From here another celebration dance ensued that I am not sure I can describe.
As I pulled the hook from the lip of the trout I asked if she wanted a picture made with it. She emphatically shouted "Yeah!". I went over a couple of basics such as wetting her hands before handling the trout and how to hold it so we could get a picture. As I laid the trout in her hands she giggled and squealed with each move of the fish, never shying away from its sliminess. I snapped a shot or two, then showed her how to release her catch. We put the small brown back in the water, facing it up river and letting it swim off under its own power. As the brown trout swam off, I sat back aglow of what had just happened. My daughter had just caught her first trout on a fly rod, and now here she sat peering into the water in wonderment of what else could lie below. As she looked up grinning from ear to ear I leaned over and asked in a fatherly voice "Do you want to do it again?"
"Yeah!" squealed my pogo stick of a daughter. And her daddy smiled.
Here are a couple of photos from our day.
This is Chloe with her first catch on a fly rod, a pretty little brown trout.
Chloe and her first Rainbow
.JPG)
Petey
I unsheathed my trusty 9’ 5wt. Thomas and Thomas from the rod holder, removed the tiny indicator and proceeded to cast out about 30-40 feet of line. I then showed Chloe just how to hold the rod, to point the rod tip down and to hold on. When she felt a tug, she needed to start reeling. I then pulled anchor and started working my way back and forth across the river. Every 5 seconds Chloe would turn around, “Daddy is it tugging yet?”, and I would answer “No, not yet. You will know when it does.” About the 10th “Is it tugging yet” the rod started to jack knife towards the water. “Its tugging, Its tugging” she screams jumping up and down giggling a little girls giggle, I tell her to start reeling and at this she became confused. With in the next couple of seconds the fish was gone. Telling a 4 year old to start reeling I come to find is not in their every day vocabulary, but at least she learned what the tugging felt like. Needless to say, her attention had been harnessed. I checked the bugs and told her we were going to do the same thing again. This time, when the line started to tug, she needed to take that little nob in her left hand and start moving it in circles.
I repositioned her hands, reminded her to keep her rod tip down and to be ready. This time around there was nothing but silence from the front of the boat. She was keyed in on the possibility of catching a fish. With-in just in a couple of minutes of rowing her rod once again was jack-knifing towards the water. This time she didn’t turn around, she started reeling. She reeled as hard and fast and she could, the entire time I am coaching from the back “Rod tip up, Rod tip up”. As I reached over the boat and grabbed the line, my daughter had turned into a squealing pogo stick. "Dad you caught a fish, you caught a fish!". I said "No honey, You caught a brown trout!" "I caught a brown trout?" responded the squealing pogo stick. "Yes, you caught a pretty little brown trout." said the proud father. From here another celebration dance ensued that I am not sure I can describe.
As I pulled the hook from the lip of the trout I asked if she wanted a picture made with it. She emphatically shouted "Yeah!". I went over a couple of basics such as wetting her hands before handling the trout and how to hold it so we could get a picture. As I laid the trout in her hands she giggled and squealed with each move of the fish, never shying away from its sliminess. I snapped a shot or two, then showed her how to release her catch. We put the small brown back in the water, facing it up river and letting it swim off under its own power. As the brown trout swam off, I sat back aglow of what had just happened. My daughter had just caught her first trout on a fly rod, and now here she sat peering into the water in wonderment of what else could lie below. As she looked up grinning from ear to ear I leaned over and asked in a fatherly voice "Do you want to do it again?"
"Yeah!" squealed my pogo stick of a daughter. And her daddy smiled.
Here are a couple of photos from our day.
This is Chloe with her first catch on a fly rod, a pretty little brown trout.
Chloe and her first Rainbow
Petey
I remember that feeling of my first trout.
