Misguided Fishing Even Al Can’t Save Us

My step-dad, Al, is the best fisherman I know. Al can catch fish anywhere, any time. He and my Mom wintered on Pine Island in Florida for years.

Al’s reputation for catching fish spread all around Pine Island people would try to scout around to see where he was fishing. However, they never had any luck. It wasn’t just the location, it was the guy holding the pole.

As effective as Al was in Florida, his honey hole area was the Rock River. As a restaurant owner, he had caught catfish for his business. It was on the Rock where he lived as a kid. When you have to fish to make your next meal, you pay attention to what works.

So Paul says over breakfast “Hey guys, they are catching some big catfish on the Rock River. We should go there”. I said if we were going to fish the Rock, there was only one person we needed to guide us and that was Al.

After checking to see if Al was available,  and my brother, Tim, could join us, we planned a trip. I would bring my boat, and drive the two hours to Geneseo to meet Al and Tim. Tim had a boat he could borrow so we could all go out.

After meeting at Mom and Al’s we headed out for the ramp near Erie. Al rode with me. Tim took Don and Paul on a “historic” route passing by every farm we had lived on growing up. I was surprised they weren’t asleep when we arrived.

Al and Tim took us through the proper way to catch catfish. The Rock was up from recent rains, but we were able to get in without incident. We fished for several hours in the swift current. Not one bite.

We pulled off at Erie, and went into town for lunch. Erie has this hamburger stand called “The Pink Pony.” It makes McDonalds look like a place for fine dining.

After lunch, Al said he had a spot where his son, Dan, regularly caught catfish. He and Dan had caught a bunch the week before. The river access was through some private property and there was no ramp. Al said he knew the owner, so we headed to Hillsdale.

The access was basically sand and mud sloped toward the river.  Tim didn’t want to try the boat he borrowed, so I volunteered to put my boat in.  Putting in was relatively easy, with Al in the boat. I joined him and motored out to fish by the bridge, while the rest of our group waited on shore.

Don was so impressed with how easily Al got in and out of my boat. He couldn't believe Al was 90 years of age. 

We fished for about thirty minutes without a bite. Al and I returned to the put in spot, and then the real trouble started. The swift current prevented aligning the boat and trailer. Al took control and, we finally got the boat on the trailer. My two wheel drive pick-up could not pull the boat up the wet and slippery slope. After several attempts and four of us pushing, we worked our way up on to dry land. We were muddy and skunked.

This was the only time I ever saw Al fail to catch at least one fish.

The curse is that strong.