A real fish story (part II)

Rick Wimer

My next experience with fishing wasn’t until around 1975. I was working in property management and living in San Jose, Calif. A former work associate from Madison, Wis. on his way to do some deep-sea bass fishing in Santa Cruz, Calif. stopped by for a visit for two or three days.

At some point during his visit, he talked me into going on his fishing expedition. He called and got me a reservation on his fishing boat. I had no idea of how everything was to play out.  

Once we checked in at a wharf in Santa Cruz the whole thing started to open up.  This was a “real deep-sea fishing” boat. It was huge. Whatever I may have imagined it would be, this was a heck of lot bigger. There were over 30 fisherman who were going on this voyage together. The boat had a galley large enough to fit quite a number of us to rest or eat our box lunches in addition to three or four restrooms. 

Before we embarked, we were given our fishing equipment which consisted of a large rod and reel with a big hook and weighty sinker on it. When we hit a large school of bass, once we hooked one, we were simply to reel them in, flip them over our shoulder where a deck hand would unhook the fish, throw it into a holding tank, cast it back into the Pacific and continue the process over and over again until we ran out of fish.

The 30 of us were positioned equidistant around the entire deck. We started around 10 a.m. It took us about an hour or so out in the ocean to find fish. What a huge thrill that got my adrenalin rushing. Total excitement. Fun, fun, fun! However, the farther out we went, the rougher and higher the waves got. So rough that many of the fishermen had stopped fishing and were leaning of the deck rail or had disappeared down into the galley, all pitching their cookies over the side or in the restroom from sea sickness. 

However, my friend and I were totally unaffected and continued fishing until we were the last two fishing. At one point I got hungry and went down into the galley for a sandwich. As I sat there eating, it seemingly caused an onslaught of guys rushing to the head or back up on deck to pitch more cookies.

I noticed we were the only two left fishing, so I asked our deckhand if we were going to return to port. He told us that as long as anyone was still fishing, the captain would not return to shore. So after about another 15 minutes of fishing and a few choice comments from our compatriots, we decided to permanently pull in our lines.

The ocean was very rough to the point that occasionally we were looking up at the waves. This lasted until we were approximately halfway back to port. Amazingly, my friend and I were unaffected at all. Once ashore, and feeling uncomfortable, we decided to make a quick exit, left our catch behind, and drove back to San Jose.

Seasoned fisherman?

Fast forward to around 2015. My new son-in-law Geirn, an avid fisherman took me to a small, private lake about six or seven miles from Barstow, Calif. to fish with him. He had a friend who lived on the lake who allowed us to fish from the shoreline in his back yard.

I hadn’t hooked up a line since the deep-sea experience 40 years earlier in 1975.  I virtually had forgotten everything I might have known about fishing, which was not that much to begin with. At 60 years of age, with my obvious multi-years of experience, LOL, I stood there while he prepped my line, baited it and cast it into the lake. 

All I had to do was stand there and wait for a fish to pass by, take the bait and hook himself to my line.  Amazingly, in less that five minutes, I felt that familiar tug I remembered as a kid fishing with a bobber back in Storm Lake. I remembered to yank the line to set the hook, but reeling it in was a very humorous fiasco; but I got it to shore. 

Geirn took a picture of me with my catch, the only one in my life. I still look at it thinking that I didn’t somehow look like a seasoned fisherman showing off his catch. It made me look like the 60-year-old novice that I was. Yet, I was thrilled that I had caught anything at all. 

But that was it for the day.  We were there for 2 or 3 hours and not a nibble did I get. There were no trails for me to explore, just back yards.  I don’t recall if Geirn caught anything at all. 

Ready for more

Fast forward again to last year, 2024.  Geirn, our daughter Luanna and their three kids drove up from Texas for a visit.  It was no surprise that he brought fishing gear with him and some for me.  He couldn’t wait to get on the lake to catch some big ones. We both bought Iowa fishing licenses, and off we went; sort of. 

Our first outing was at the Casino Marina, fishing off the boating docks which garnered absolutely nothing; not even a nibble. That was my last foray into the fishing realm. I spent the rest of their visit with Luanna and the kids introducing them to riding my tandem trike.

Geirn, however continued the next day on his own and actually brought home enough fish for that evening’s meal. They were really tasty. I suspected that would probably be my very last fishing experience. 

However, now I don’t think it will be. Kapae and I traveled to Oklahoma City earlier this year to watch our granddaughter Abigail play in a national softball tournament. She was in the 10-year-old bracket and quite good. Geirn of course was there.  He took me to the local Cabela’s store to shop for something, not sure what.  

When we left, I walked out with a fully outfitted rod and reel and three lures. The only thing it’s missing was the bait. In addition, a book titled The Complete Guide to Fishing by Daniel J. Pruitt.

The cover lists; Freshwater-Fly-Fishing-Saltwater, Tips-Secrets-& Strategies. Me thinks he was setting me up for his next visit. The rod and reel are still in the car where he put them.  The book, all 192 colorfully pictured pages of it, sits on my computer desk waiting for me to read it. Alas, this is probably not the end of my fishing story.

Rick Wimer writes from Storm Lake.