Tag Archives: saltwater

The Nine Stages of Becoming a Fisherman

Kobald
Shane Kobald releases a nice Colorado brown trout. 

I’ve been thinking more, as of late, how fortunate I’ve been to have fallen in love with this sport at a young age, and how grateful I am to have been able to keep at it, albeit to varying degrees, for more than two decades. I’ve thought about how my perception of the water, the time we get to spend on it, and what it means to us, changes over time. I’d like to share that idea with you, and get your thoughts and feedback if you’d be kind enough to share them with me. Here, in my opinion, are the nine stages of becoming a fisherman:

1. That first Fish: No, I’m not talking about the first fish you catch, I’m talking about the first fish that you see caught. Maybe you’re three or four years old, and perhaps it’s an uncle or a cousin or an older friend, but all of a sudden… someone pulls a living thing above the water’s surface. This, for all intents and purposes, can be a life-changing moment. You’re young enough to still believe in magic, and if you have the right pre-disposition, you’ll continue to believe in this particular type of magic for the rest of your life. The idea starts generating in your young mind that, beneath the water’s surface, there’s another world entirely, and with a rod and reel, you might be able to gain access to it.

2. Your First Fish: Some time after that spell is cast, you will put things like a rod, a reel, line, lures… and eventually an 8-foot Pond Prowler, on every birthday or Christmas list for the rest of your life. But first there is that first fish, usually a perch or sunfish or maybe, if you’re lucky, a largemouth bass. But when you first feel connected to that resistance, the tail-shaking, wiggling life at the other end of a line… you’re connected to something that will never let go. It’ll hold onto you inside of office cubicles, in classrooms, in church pews and even while you’re trying to sleep, study or concentrate.

3. Driving your Family Crazy: After that first fish, there’s usually one thing that you want to do after school, during vacations, before school or even on lunch hours in your early years of adolescence. You want to fish. You want to fish all the time. You will call aunts and uncles who you’ve not spoken with in weeks or months to see if they’d like to “Go fishing with you” (see: Take you fishing, because you can’t drive). You will ask parents to drop you off, and leave you for as long as is possible, at ponds, creeks and lakes.

4. The Life-changing Species: We all have a certain species of fish that changed our lives, and for me it was striped bass, caught while taking family vacations to Cape Cod, but this species is different for everyone. For many it’s America’s favorite fish, the largemouth bass, and for others it’s redfish, snook, tarpon or steelhead. But at some point, relatively early on in our progression as a fisherman, we find that species that will be our species for the rest of our lives. We will continue to chase all manner of fish, but this species will always be special.

5. Wheels: We all remember our first car, and mine was a hand-me-down, 1996 Chevrolet Beretta from an Uncle, who, ironically loved to fish himself. If you’re younger than 30, you might not remember the Beretta, which was retired in that very year. It was a sports car for people who didn’t have the budget for a sports car. It was a two-door coupe, and if it wasn’t the least ideal fishing vehicle, it was second on that list only to a bicycle. But you can, if you’re careful, fit one-piece, six-foot rods between the backseat and the windshield, and that’s all that mattered. When you first have a driver’s license, it’s almost incomprehensible to you how much you might fish now, as compared to that same capability in your life prior to that point. Every vehicle you own for the rest of your life will smell something like either bait, low tide or Gulp lures.

6. A Fishing Vehicle: Unless you’re very fortunate, your first vehicle will not be an ideal one for a fishing life. Your second vehicle, however, will almost certainly be. My first fishing truck was a used regular cab Dodge Dakota. The very notion that I now had a six-foot bed that could hold coolers, rods, waders, and tackle was something almost too incredible for a 17-year-old to imagine.

7. Everywhere: After you’ve explored and fished your immediate surroundings, you suddenly develop the urge to fish every body of water on the planet that might harbor any type of life. This desire was born in me when I was 23, and thanks to Outdoor Life Magazine, I had the chance to attempt to fish all of the lower 48. A certain combination of youth, an idealistic outlook, and if you’re lucky, eternal optimism, will make life seem, for you, too short to not fish everywhere as soon as humanly possible.

8. Passing the Torch: One of my favorite fishing memories, of all time, is of a day when I didn’t catch a thing. I was about 20, fishing the Brewster flats on Cape Cod with my cousin, who was then about 13 years old. Dylan Wheelock, at 13, hooked and landed a schoolie striped bass on the flats, after wading out with me almost a mile, and that picture is hanging, still, in his family’s house. If you’ve been lucky, and you try to stay humble, eventually seeing others fall in love with the sport, in the way you did in those first seven steps, will become your favorite part of being on the water.

9. Enjoying Every Moment: Once you get through those eight stages, a funny thing happens: You become grateful for every opportunity you have to get on the water, regardless of the outcome. You realize that these stolen moments will always be some of your favorite, and that while the fish might bring us to the water’s edge, they don’t have much to do with the logic behind our loving it.

You realize, finally, that the true luck in fishing is just in the mere fact that you’re doing it, that you have this opportunity, and that you’re at least wise enough to appreciate that.

 

Another Fishing Magazine? Why?

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This redfish was caught in the backwaters near Georgetown, S. Car. in 2010.

Thanks to the people at B.A.S.S., Tyler Wade especially, this past trip had a dual purpose. The first, which I’ve no doubt bored you with to death, was to use the generosity of our sponsors (Get Vicious, Native Eyewear, Sunology, Rick Roth at Mirror Image and our original sponsor, Buff) to deliver a roundhouse kick to melanoma, a disease particularly dangerous to outdoorsmen, and one that unfortunately my family has more experience with than we’ve ever wanted. Thank God the people at the Melanoma Research Foundation are working tirelessly to stop this disease in its tracks.

The second was to go town to town, shop to shop, and try to give future readers a chance for us, together, to build a fishing magazine, by asking them exactly what type of magazine they want to read, what magazine they think is missing. With Emerson’s help, I’ve designed a survey to do just that. I couldn’t hit every town with water, but by God I tried. From Oklahoma to Florida, Georgia to South Carolina, the Outer Banks to Delaware and back to my native Northeast, I tried not to pass by a tackle shop without stopping in.

But before we build something, there’s the essential question of: Why? And it’s one I’ve been asking myself since the notion of my own publication first came into my head, probably more than two years ago… initially just the kind of crazy dream you have that won’t leave you alone.

There are objective reasons. I believe we’ve seen quality, print fishing content become more scarce for a number of reasons. The recession hit boat manufacturers especially hard, and since much of the fishing content we read is supported by ad dollars from boat companies, we did see a lot of the content we loved come close to vanishing.

But there are still great, great publications churning out tremendous fishing stories. Field & Stream, Outdoor Life, The Drake, The Fly Fish Journal, Saltwater SportsmanFlorida Sportsman, and recently, Anglers Journal, all routinely amaze me with stories told in unique and beautiful ways about the waters we love.

So, why another fishing magazine? Part of it, certainly, is that I think there’s a type of fishing content that doesn’t get the attention it deserves. We see a lot of great content about trout and salmon fishing in the fly-fishing magazines, bass fishing gets its share of coverage, and magazines like Marlin and Sport Fishing do a great job of depicting the beauty of offshore fishing. But for us inshore, conventional guys, without the money for a boat, and especially those of us who love the southern coastal states like North Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia… there’s less content than I think we’d like to see.

But I’d be remiss to leave out the essential factor that is at the heart of this mission. From about age 9 or 10, when our father, or an aunt or uncle, first shows us how to make a tepee out of kindling, stuffed with newspaper, and start a fire, we have an inherent and undeniable desire to create something of our own. This desire is more often attributed to men than it is women, but I think that’s an unfair bias that hopefully we as a society are moving away from. Without women, after all, there wouldn’t be any of us to create anything.

And I’d be lying if I said that the desire to create something of my own accord, from scratch, from the ground up, wasn’t a big part of my motivation for trying to build a fishing magazine for you, because it certainly is.

But here’s the thing about building something, whether that’s a fire when you’re 12 or a magazine when you’re 29…

If you build it alone, and just for yourself, whatever meaning it has will be minimal. Of what value is the warmth of a campfire if not shared? It’ll keep you alive, but that’s about it.

I designed this survey, and went town to town, shop to shop, dropping it off… because I want to build this magazine together. I want to share the beauty of this sport, that I’ve loved my whole life, with new friends who feel the same way. I want to create something they’ll love, yes… but I also want their input so that we might build it together. I don’t want to pave a one-way street where I’m delivering you a product that I hope you’ll like. I want a path that goes both ways, where I listen and use what feedback you’re willing to give so that the warmth of a combined love for the sport is all the greater, and so that it grows. I was reminded of this core ideology today when I heard a phrase that I’d heard before, but one that has a new meaning to us at each stage in our lives: “Nobody wins unless everyone wins.”

No matter how beautiful, poignant or intelligent of a magazine I might start… it’d be nothing without readers who enjoyed it and contributed their unique experience toward my continued effort to improve it. They’d have to love it for me to love making it. I couldn’t win unless they, unless you, won by embracing the content I hope to create.

I’d be honored if you’d help, and as always, thanks for reading.