The second week of fishing season there will be a sign on our front door, ‘Gone Fishing’ and at least once a week thereafter through to late fall.  We never go the first week of the season because all the danged amateurs who think they know how to fish are out there crowding the river banks.  It takes most of them about a week to decide that they’d rather do something else.  We didn’t get out at all last year and we both missed it.

     Fishing amateurs are easy to recognize.  They arrive with brand new tackle more suited to lake or deep sea fishing than trout streams.  They spend more time untangling their line than they do wetting it in the river.  An amateur will place him/herself directly across the river from anyone else that is fishing and throw his or her line atop the other person’s line—definitely bad form.

     The amateur will trash the river bank.  We clean up after ourselves and pick up any other trash we find.  Our parks department supplies plenty of trash barrels but the amateur, the slob fisherman, and lazybones visitors to our lovely parks don’t bother to use them.  Most of the fish we catch, we release.

     DH and I always have at least two cheap rods and reel set ups in our vehicles that we will often gift to some child who is interested in fishing but doesn’t have the proper tackle.  

     Two years ago, a couple had their nine year old grandson out near our favorite fishing hole.  Someone at a store (that will remain nameless) sold them a lake pole, a horrible reel, plastic worms, and fish hooks only suitable for deep sea fishing.  None of them knew what they were doing and they were all getting frustrated, so while DH kept them busy, I slipped off to my car and pulled out one of our give-away set ups.  DH and I patiently showed the boy how to tie on a leader, put a proper hook on, and bait it.  We took turns teaching him how to cast his line.  Fifteen minutes later the delighted boy pulled a decent sized trout out of the stream with his new fishing pole.  Hours and many fish later, the grandparents and the boy were ready to leave.  The boy brought the ‘borrowed’ fishing pole over to us—my favorite part is when we tell kids they can keep the rod and reel.  Their faces are priceless.