That’s me in the back and please notice that we are all safely wearing our lifejackets. Kids under 12 have to wear them by law, so my daughter made everyone wear them. MoCon (I am calling Missouri Conservation that from now, too much to type out) must have a significant push for life jacket awareness as there were many signs and activities about it at the Dewey Short Center. Those lessons sunk deeply in my daughter’s head. That’s good, but it was a little extra hot with the life jacket on. Safety first, comfort second. (Comfort was so far behind, it had to be taken out back and shot)
The plan was, like it is every year, to go downriver a ways, cut the engine, then drift. You toss your line out the upriver side of the boat, let the bait sink to the bottom, and wait for sweet, sweet nibbles. There are many minor challenges in this method – most are alleviated by a trolling motor. We did not have a trolling motor because I forgot to ask for one. So the boat tends to spin and you have to start up the engine occasionally to get right. In faster current you just leave the engine on and make small forward-reverse adjustments. Kind of a pain, but I can always ask for a trolling motor when we rent the boat later in the week (you are probably going to want to remember this statement). To be fair, the trolling motors on these john boats are hand operated, so it limits the pilot’s fishing anyway.
The main challenge, one that would prove especially prevalent on this day, is that the bait and hardware bounce on the bottom. This is what you want, but causes the rod to bounce as well- imitating a strike. When a 7 year old is only familiar with fishing still water, this presents a bit of a contradiction. On running water, you can guess it’s a strike if the rod tip stops moving. It makes sense when you see it.
I broke the ice pretty quickly in a traditionally productive spot lined with trees before a big bend in the riverlake near Monkey Island which is supposedly named after an actual monkey who lived there for a time. Apparently it escaped from either a show or was some show folks’ pet. I have a hard time believing this but I do want to believe it.
There’s also power lines running over this section. Upon hearing me say that wildlife is attracted to power lines –deer, fish, turkey, probably other stuff- my wife and daughter asked why. I explained some theories, but ultimately didn’t know and both my daughter and wife said I was making it up. Finally, I just said it’s true because it is and I say it is. Now that’s how you father, friends. Next level is stating that you will, in fact, turn this darn boat around. I did not have to go there.
The excitement was building as everyone sporadically caught a fish or two, except my daughter. Frustration was on the horizon and just past that was cutting down on MY fishing time. I promised she could drive the boat back, which seemed to alleviate things a bit. I also over coached and could see the confusion rising. It really is hard to contain yourself when watching the rod bounce sporadically. There were, of course, several hang ups, birds nest, broke lines that I had to fix, casting difficulties, reeling difficulties, lost bait. One thing that did come out of all this was my daughter started saying she got snaggered in place of snagged. Snaggered is a huge improvement.
So fishing was below average at this point and, frankly we were all getting a little bored. So my dad said it was time for the Corne Special. If you’ll remember weeks ago when you started reading this, my dad’s name is Cornelius and goes by Corne for short. Just wanted to make sure that you knew we did not use canned corn anymore (unless we get really desperate). The Corne Special is a variation of the Corne Combo, and utilizes a full nitghtcrawler tipped with a white power bait on the tiny trout sized hooks. It looks ridiculous and you can even inject some air into the nightcrawler so that it floats off the bottom. (It looks even more ridiculous typing that). The Corne Combo is one pink and one chartreuse power bait on the same hook. Anyway, those are trademarked so be prepared to pay if you want to use them.
Now with the Corne Special in play, all things seemed possible. I had told her everything I knew about drift fishing for trout (took 28 seconds), and had finally shut up. In my head, I was thinking there’s no chance. It was just too hard until you gained the experience of having gone through the hard part. The most unfortunate thing about fishing (or really any endeavor) is that the hard part is dealing with not catching fish - basically failure. Really, fishing with pole and line is a ridiculous concept, if you really start thinking about it. However, she was aggressively excited about netting our fish.
As I wrote earlier, my daughter’s been much better at fishing when someone is not looking over her shoulder. So, when she said she had one on, I initially did not believe it and wasn't paying attention anyway. I was maximizing my time since I thought the trip would end at any minute. I must have said “are you sure” 5 times. Each time she said she was sure. Of course, I didn’t believe it till I finally saw it (Show Me State, right?). What a relief, I thought she was just snaggered and honestly did not believe that she had a fish. Not that I thought she was lying, but it was just hard to believe in that moment for whatever reason.
She reeled it in and we netted it. It was huuuu… not a monster by any means. It was a pretty average sized stocker. I felt a mixture of pride, honor, and love in that moment. I finally understood how the outdoors can bring people together - spanning generation, race, creed, and color.
At least, that is what you are supposed to say, but I didn’t feel any of that. I simply felt relief and was happy that I could finally relax a little bit. That is until the weight of my responsibility to get everyone back on dry land safely flooded back which tag teamed with my fear of docking the boat in currents. It was a nice worry free five minutes. I was happy that she caught her trout and happy that I learned not worrying about driving the boat made me happy. So I flipped my daughter the keys and said you catch the fish, you drive the boat.
(I did take over when we were around other boats and when docking, I am really not that irresponsible. Anymore)
So it was a good day, we all caught fish, made it back to the resort safely, and I really believed that, at the very least, I could increase my overall fishing time. Now I could take my daughter with me and we could bond (mostly I could fish more). The latter part being the main victory of the day. Then, that evening we saw this cloud formation:
Something like this probably signaled impending doom to bygone civilizations, but it was too good to not include here. This is also not foreshadowing, just an interesting picture.
So we quickly made plans to reserve a boat for another day before we headed back to real life. We thought if we could build on this fishing thing, it would be something we could all do together on the regular. My excitement grew as my fishing has sharply decreased over the last couple years. We reserved the boat for the full day on Wednesday. Should I have mentioned adding a trolling motor right then? You’re darn right I should have. Did I? Of course not, I would remember when we were loading up, no problem.
Fast forward to Wednesday, we load up, no issues again, except of course I forgot about the trolling motor. Things are looking mostly great, we’re even getting started way earlier than planned. I get the motor running and headed to the same spot we started on Monday. I cut the engine while simultaneously noticing I forgot about the trolling motor. So same spot, same gear, Corne special, only this time there’s a difference. We aren’t drifting quite as fast and it feels a whole lot hotter. Since we were there earlier in the day, they were only running a half or one generator. That explains the lack of drift and less comfortable temperature. The complaints started almost immediately and I knew this wouldn’t last long. We were out for maybe 2 hours, caught one fish, and headed back because my daughter was not handling the new conditions well. She did catch her second trout though, which was less exciting than the first. We dropped the daughter off with, I assume, my mom.
My wife, dad, and I headed up river toward the dam and kept our lifejackets on the whole time. Guess that lesson sunk in for us too. You can boat all the way up to the dam in any current, though I won’t do it unless there’s at least 3 running. I’ve seen a boat slowly wind its way all the way up to the dam with zero running. All the while dodging fly casts and very angry fly fisherman. Just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you should.
So we made it up to where the trophy area ends and started our drift. By this time, they’d flipped a few more generators on and the current’s much faster up that way as it is mostly skinny water. So, by drift, I mean we attempted a non-powered john boat speed record.
I didn’t fish but both my wife and dad landed a few. It finally widens and slows down about a mile and half down, but none of us were having any luck. We ended up heading way down river and I only caught one, but I think we had over 10 total - not a bad trip. A front came in, which surprisingly didn’t jump start the fish at all. It did make for a cold, wet ride home though. And since, this was probably the last day we’d rent a boat, I pulled it into the slip with only minor damage. Now it’s time to forget all I learned about driving a boat on Taneycomo.
In conclusion (I will remember those readers who are clapping) it was a great fishing trip because I witnessed my daughter catch her first trout. I don’t remember mine, but I will not forget hers. Well until dementia sets in or progresses further. It was a great moment for me and probably one she would describe as neat. Maybe even pretty neat. We did what we came to do, along with a number of other memorable adventures. With no 10 pounder cooling in the taxidermist’s freezer, I’ll be back to Taneycomo just like I always come back (Even if I caught a 10 pounder, I’d be back for an 11 pounder). And Salmo Trutta always beckons. And, go karts are awesome, so I’ll always find a reason to head back to Taneycomo. Hopefully, my daughter will tag along.
And, to Tiny, the dam man who flips the dam switch, you can rest easy, we are at an unheard of 50% increase in desire to return at any cost. Spend that Christmas bonus wisely because there was only a 5% increase in resentment. So I’m comin’ for ya, Tiny. Summer 2017, the Tussle amongst the Mussels, coming soon to a pay per view near you.
As far as a post game analysis, there was a lot to learn about myself. I confirmed that I am selfish even in trying to help someone else. In the end it was all about my expectations and the expectations I believed everyone had of me. After writing all of this, I do believe I have unloaded some of that backpack I talked about earlier. Of course, I’ve just replaced that with other things (like acute awareness of my selfishness) that will probably weigh me down. I’ve always thought I was a pretty laid back guy, but, man do I worry. I worry about things that I probably don’t need to worry about and things that are unlikely to happen. Something obvious’ll probably get me as I sit worrying about the barometric effect on fiberglass hull buoyancy. My personal spin is that these worries will keep me and my family safe in the outdoors or back in the real world. I also learned that I am a glutton for punishment. Taneycomo is and probably always will be my favorite place to fish yet my descriptions wouldn't lead a sane person to believe that. Well, I guess that explains it, I'm just not the paragon of mental health and normalcy I am sure you are picturing.
All in all, at the start of this, I had more issues than National Geographic, I think I have unloaded some of that and maybe next time I’ll even remember how to dock the boat. Just maybe the awareness of my hangups (or snaggers) will help me more fully enjoy the time I have on the riverlake. Or maybe I’ll just do the same thing and have a heck of time in spite of it all.
Hopefully, you stuck with this mess and enjoyed it. At worst, I hope you at least can be comforted there’s someone like me out there. Not only are you not him, but he also lives on the other side of Missouri.
Thanks for reading, until next time:
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