I have been a fisherman most of my life. My Dad got me hooked (so to speak) when I was five and it has been my passion ever since.
Growing up in Illinois I cut my teeth along the banks of the always murky Fox River. Many nights were spent listening to the roar of a dam in Algonquin, or Montgomery. I'd wait all night long for a big catfish to come along and ring one of the bells I'd dangle from my poles to signal a bite.
I have done it all where fishing is concerned. Well, that's not exactly true. I'm lucky enough to have done more than most. There! That's better. But check this out, in addition to my early adventures on The Fox, I have fished for trout and salmon on The Great Lakes, I have trolled for shark and billfish on The Atlantic Ocean, I have chased tarpon on The Gulf of Mexico, I have battled giant bass and crappies down in Texas, on the famous Lake Fork and the equally infamous Caddo Lake. I have been all over the southland on some of the same water as guys like Jimmy Houston and Bill Dance. I have chucked muskie lures in the state of Wisconsin. I think I may have even caught the very same Minnesota walleye that Babe Winkelman once released? Heck, I've been told there's really only one walleye up there anyway, we all just keep catchin' it.
I met my fishin' partner Pat (PsychoPat) in 1987 while playing in Chicago-based metal band Tytus. He turned out to be a big fisherman too. And what time we didn't spend playing music together, we spent fishing. We were introduced to the mighty muskie pretty quick. Pat tried it first and loved it, then I was inducted a year later and loved it just the same.
Those were the good old days - week long camping trips to Hayward, Wisconsin with a group of Boy Scouts (maybe I should mention that Pat is an Eagle Scout and those trips were scout outings - didn't want you thinkin' there was some kind of Michael Jackson thing going on). I had never been camping before I met Pat, but I loved it right away. I learned how to "rough it" from the best, because those Scouts could build a camp fire during a typhoon. I just loved my new-found life in the woods. Hey, who knew?
It wasn't totally uncivilized up in Hayward. Members of the over 21 crowd were able to wet their whistles at Herman's Landing - a rustic muskie guide hangout set strategically on an island smack in the middle of the Chippewa Flowage. We spent many-a-night there suckin' down Leinenkugels and chompin' on the best cheeseburger ever - The Herman Burger. Herman's Landing was stumbling distance from our tent flaps, as we camped on the same island about four-hundred feet away from the bar stools and pool table. That made Herman's the perfect waterin' hole (although I did fall sleep on the green velvet slab a time or two).
Hayward changed over the years and not for the better either. Casinos went up near our beloved getaway and then came hotels and water parks and all night grocery stores and... okay I'll say it... assholes! Our peaceful paradise was suddenly crowded with speed boats, party pontoon boats, jet skiers, water skiers, and tubers. The body of water that once provided recreation to fisherman was a pleasure boat nightmare almost over night. One night we were sitting around the camp fire and heard a very expensive speed boat tear-out from the launch at about 1am. As the roar of the powerful motor gradually faded, we all became quiet waiting for the inevitable. The boat eventually hit a rock bar traveling at a good rate of speed with a resounding crunch. Of course, we burst into laughter.
That was an awesome sound (crunch!) and I don't care if it's mean to say so. The sound of that boat's motor scraping across the shallow rocks signaled the end of an era for us too though. Now we had to find someplace more fisherman friendly and FAST!
We found Dryberry Lake in Northwest Ontario's magnificent Sunset Country. The rest is history. I'll let the photos finish the story.................
The 3 short films (wmv files above) document our fishing history, as our twisted and deranged minds perceive it. They're not quite a Speilberg production - most of the footage was shot in various formats that are now, I'm happy to say, part of our video production history. But with a little help from the modern technology I use on the job today, the films have been digitally enhanced and ribbed (for HER pleasure). They're still pretty crude as far as films go, but I enjoyed producing them and as you will see, none of the characters minded staring in any of them either - except for maybe my Mother (appears in "Fishin' Impossible"), who shoved the camera away like she was Deion Sanders fleeing reporters after a loss to the Packers.
Anyway... I hope you like watching them as much as we enjoyed making them.
FYI... Film #2, "The Blair Fish Project," had to be split into 2 separate files due to size limitations.
Zilla
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Webster Lake 11/12/2005 (48 inches)
Dryberry, Ontario 09/20/05 (48 inches - est. 28lbs.)
