Lest there be any dispute, I state at the outset that I am no fisherman. My father was. I am not.

For proof, I bring exhibit A, the Lake River event. Having discovered as a boy that my mother would nix any specific travel destination request, but would nearly always approve the request to be on the bike most of the day on weekends, I began my travels with safe targets. One of them was the banks of a slow river where people liked to fish for Bass. Hidden away between the water and road I found a box of fishing gear and a pole. It was there the next weekend so I considered it abandoned and gave it a try.

Yeah. It didn’t yield the hoped for results either of the two weeks I fished. I know there were Bass in the water because each time a grandpa showed up and within ten minutes left with a big fish.

He knew what he was doing.

Years later I’d go on lake river in a boat with a bunch of guys who trolled for trout. They gave me the little ones. A real fisherman would never accept them, but I did and I still prefer smaller trout because of it.

My father did his research. He knew what he was doing and I have some few pictures to prove it. Observe the size of these fish that he caught. I didn’t even know some of them came this big. But now I know that my theory that fishing is a random game of chance is debunked. True, you get nothing if there are no fish. These photos show what you get if the fish are there and you know how to get them.