We had good feedback for our “Amazing Fishing Stories” series. Some submissions were amazing, some were heartwarming and some were even a little goofy. But most of them were compelling in one way or another. Here are the favorites selected by the content staff here at FLWTour.com. Heading into the holidays, we’ll run one of them a day in the e-zine for the next two weeks or so. Enjoy, happy holidays and keep on fishing.
– FLWTour.com staff
Christian’s keeper
by Chris Bahl, Sidney, Neb.
This past summer I had been hearing of the monster walleyes that were being caught at Lake McConaughy in Nebraska. On an August day that was too hot for any dog, I loaded up my favorite fishing partner Christian, who is my 3-year-old son, and we headed west. You see, Christian and I represent the epitome of a “team,” one that operates on respect for one another, respect for the resource that brings us together and the precision by which we put that resource in the boat.
Once we arrived at Big Mac, our standard operation is put into motion. I ready our Ranger 620 while Christian thoroughly checks all live bait, sometimes hand-counting all minnows and crawlers, and makes sure we have plenty of soda and candy bars in the cooler.
Once on the water, Christian picks his favorite colors for the day’s assault. This particular hot, sunny, August day he selected his favorite: Reef Runners, Cheap Sunglasses, Trailer Trash Pink and Blue Hawaiian. During a solid hour of scouting, my partner never took his eyes off our planer boards. He barely breathed as he focused on the boards even though the harsh sun’s rays could have discouraged a lesser team. But my partner and I were not to be denied.
As I drifted into thought I heard the screech I often dream about. “There she goes!” Christian yelped.
My partner leaped for the net, which is twice his size, as he saw the planer board pulling the Blue Hawaiian sag back. Our ballet of precision was in full motion. I grabbed the rod and began to reel as my partner stood on the back deck anxiously waiting for the offshore board to reach him for disarmament. Once he released the board my partner hurried his net out the back of the boat, with arms stretched high over his head holding the handle of the leveraged device that would land his reward.
You see, he might only be 3, but he can run a net with the best of them. A long time ago, when he was 2, he taught himself to run a net like a teeter-totter out the back of the boat. When I say “now” my partner jumps in the air and puts all his weight into lifting the fish out of the water, much like a basket.
As my partner anxiously waited for his cue he repeatedly reminded me of his role, saying, “Talk to me. Talk to me.”
On this day, however, we met our match. As the fight drew on, my partner knew this was no ordinary eye. He asked, “It’s big, isn’t it?” – only to get a “you just be ready” in response from me. When I got my first look at our foe, my knees went weak. My biggest walleye to date was 32 1/2 inches, which I had caught in the trophy waters of Lake Erie. This fish was bigger. Of course, through the lens of the water, it was a new state record.
As I carefully fought our foe, I felt an opportunity for us to put it in the boat. I lifted oh-so-gently and then yelled, “Now!”
Bam! Christian nailed her right in the bottom of her jaw with the net, but we still had her!
My partner panicked, “Did we get ’em?”
“No.”
It went quiet. I looked down and saw a tear running down the cheek of my partner, but it was accompanied by a look of determination that I had never seen before on his face. I just about put down the rod and hugged my young warrior, but I knew that at that moment in time the fish on the end of my rod meant more to him than Santa Claus.
“Now!” I yelled again as I lifted the monster foe a second time.
Bam! He nailed her again, this time in the side and she slid off the side of the net.
“Did we get ’em?!”
“No.”
This time I heard a whimper, but not one of defeat and frustration. This whimper was motivated by determination. My poor partner was shaking, quivering and riddled with conflicting emotions.
“Now!” I yelled a third time.
As my partner gave it everything he had with the downward thrust of his little body on the handle of the net, we saw Blue Hawaiian launch into the air above our heads. As if it all was happening in slow motion, both of our eyes followed the lure down to the boat and our eyes met. As we looked at one another in disbelief, we both welled up with tears. My heart was crushed as I looked at the defeat and disappointment his poor little soul displayed. I could tell he was crushed as he thought he let me down. I sensed his young mind racing as he analyzed what possibly went wrong with our effort. I felt helpless and didn’t know what to say other than I was proud of him. I was proud of everything I learned about my son during that battle, as I got a glimpse of his true character. A glimpse you only get when a man is tested. I was emotionally taken, not by our loss, but by our gain. That fish did more for us than we could have ever imagined. It was almost as though it was best that that one got away.
As we sat in silence, going over in our minds what had just happened, I saw my partner pull himself up from devastation. Christian quietly pulled the net back into the boat, wiped his tears and runny nose then looked at me. I saw the look of a warrior, a competitor, as his face was riddled with disappointment, defeat and anguish, yet, more importantly, hope. Hope that we would get another chance. Hope, the only thing a fisherman has.
As I started to reset our line I was startled. “There she goes!” he screamed.
I quickly looked up to see our other outside board falling back in a hurry. I snapped up the rod; my partner rushed for the net, laying it precisely in position, and then positioning himself to receive the board. The team was back in action. Gone was the disappointment and anguish of the missed opportunity a moment ago. As I pulled the board to my partner I felt the weight of our new foe. Oh, how I’ll never forget the feeling!
“Talk to me. Talk to me,” my partner reminded me with concentration beyond his years.
Soon I got the first look, and I had to bite my lip not to startle my partner.
“Is she big?” he asked.
“Yes.”
I could feel the determination of my partner on my skin. I was not going to let him down. This one was for him.
“Now!”
With all his might he thrust his arms down and then straddled the heavy net arm with his quivering legs.
“WE GOT `EM!” he yelled. “Is she big?!”
“Yes, she is big.”
As I helped my partner lift our catch in the boat I will never forget the look on his face when he got his first glimpse of it. His eyes glistened in the summer light and his jaw dropped to the floor. He raised his tired arms in triumph followed by the ceremonial high-five and hug. That moment I wanted to last forever.
“Livewell!” screeched my partner as he swiftly considered the well-being of his catch. We hurried our friend into the livewell to keep her healthy since we had to take pictures for mom before we could return her back home.
Our catch measured 32 ¾ inches, the biggest walleye I’d ever landed. However, I think the one that got away that day was the greatest catch of all.
The author of this piece, Chris Bahl, is a Wal-Mart RCL Walleye Circuit pro competitor. He placed 10th at the RCL Championship in Green Bay in October.
Previous Amazing Fishing Story:
“Hubba Bubba hawgin'” by Edmond Brown