Even on water, Dad can’t land

For as long as I can remember, Dad has been one of those guys who just can’t land. No matter what we are doing, or trying to do, Dad just can’t relax and enjoy it. He always has to be on the move.

Watching television with Dad is always an adventure, especially when he gets ahold of a remote control with fresh batteries. He changes channels so often, it’s like trying to tie a tiny fly pattern with a severe eye twitch.

One year Dad had three TV sets in the same room so he could watch as many football games as possible at one time. I’m not sure how he did it, but he could keep the channels on all three sets changing like one of those slide shows we watched in health class before videotape was invented.

Even at age 74, Dad could place among the leaders in a remote-control speed contest. And he fishes much the same way. Not that Dad uses multiple rods and outfits, each with a remote control, though he might be willing to try that if someone figured out how to do it, but he is always moving. And that can sometimes make things difficult when teaching the grandkids how to fish.

One summer when my kids were still young and just getting the angling bug, we traveled with my parents to a small reservoir high among the tall pines and quaking aspen where we hoped to reel in a few rainbow trout. Mom didn’t get around too well, so we set up a few camp chairs at the water’s edge, baited the kids’ rods and told them to leave their line in the water so they could catch a fish. Anyone who has taken a child fishing knows how well that instruction was followed.

During the next couple of hours, I probably lost at least a couple of pounds running from one kid to another with the tin can full of worms and a bottle of salmon eggs.

“You can’t catch a fish if the bait’s not in the water,” I said each time one of them reeled in his line after feeling a phantom bite. Then just when I thought they were starting to understand, one of my more outspoken kids — no, I don’t know where that comes from — asked, “Then why doesn’t Grandpa keep his bait in the water?”

That Grandpa had been hiking around the reservoir and casting in many locations had not gone unnoticed.

“Because Grandpa doesn’t like catching fish,” I replied without really knowing how to answer. Luckily, we had caught a few fish from our perch along the shoreline and my answer seemed to satisfy.

This past Labor Day weekend, my kids and I traveled to a reservoir I had never fished. Everything I had read indicated it was full of feisty rainbows, so when my daughter, Krystaly, asked me to take her young family fishing, this seemed like a good place to go.

Testing the waters early one morning, I caught and released eight plump rainbows in little more than an hour on an olive bead head Woolly Bugger. All but one were cookie-cutter fish measuring about 13 inches, but the other was a beautiful 17-inch fish that put up a terrific fight. I couldn’t help but brag when I went back to camp for a plate full of biscuits and gravy.

After breakfast, I was joined lakeside by my two boys and my son-in-law, Matt. They set up on the east shoreline where access was easy and I thought they might get into some fish, but when that didn’t happen it wasn’t long before Matt began eyeing the opposite shore.

“Oh, no,” I thought. “He’s just like Dad!”

Matt soon loaded up with gear, hiked to a rocky point across the lake where the water was a little deeper and immediately caught a thick-sided 22-inch rainbow. (So much for bragging rights; see if I bring him again.) Krystaly soon joined Matt, and they filled a stringer with fresh fish.

With fishing like that, maybe even Dad would’ve found a way to land in one spot.

Freelance writer Doug Nielsen is a conservation educator for the Nevada Department of Wildlife. His “In the Outdoors” column, published Thursday in the Las Vegas Review-Journal, is not affiliated with or endorsed by the NDOW. Any opinions he states in his column are his own. He can be reached at dougnielsen@att.net.