Creek Chub Plunker
Heddon River Runt
Paw Paw River Rustler
P&K Bright Eyes
Cordell Super Shad
Someone posted a "poster" on the Facebook that read:
You can't buy happiness
But you can buy fishing gear
And that's kind of the same thing.
Apparently the wisdom here is not the promise that fishing brings happiness, but the buying of the gear (tackle, as it was called when I was a boy). So it is not necessarily the hunt for the elusive trout that rewards but rather the hunt for the fly that might lure him. I can get in to that kind of happiness.
I have a wise mentor whom I speak to often about this second-coming of age. He asked me a few years ago if I had a hobby. No, not really, I honestly replied. He warned me that if a guy doesn't have a hobby well before he retires he won't start one.
I'm afraid he's right. So, I thought, why not spend some time here at About POPS, exploring some hobbies old guys can do? Let's start with fishing.
But where to start? Bass Pro? You walk in there and it is apparent that for these people fishing isn't just a hobby or relaxing past time; it's an obsession.
Obviously though, fishing has served many an old-timer well. Heck, it's even biblical. There is a big difference though between Jesus and Jimmy Houston. The biblical fishing was done by guys in groups using nets. You could have handed Simon Peter a Zebco rig with 30 lb test and a True Temper Cripple Shad, and he would have... well, I don't know what he would have done, but I bet once he figured out what the rig was for he would have laughed and said, "Why would I catch fish one at a time?"
I'm not sure fishing is the hobby for me. I tend to over-romantizize the whole experience. I have an aversion to chiggers, ticks, and mosquitos. I tend to lack focus and patience. But there is one thing I love about the fishing hobby: the fishing stories. Fisherman are so fortunate. When they get together they have something to talk about besides politics, religion, and their health issues. So while I'm not much of a fisherman, given the choice of spending leisure time knee deep in a cold stream trying to cast a fly in just the right spot and sitting at McDonald's drinking coffee with a bunch cranky, bitter old pharts; pass me the stink bait and the OFF®!
You get a line and I'll get a pole, Honey,
You get a line and I'll get a pole, Babe.
You get a line and I'll get a pole,
We'll go fishin' in the crawdad hole,
Honey, Baby mine.