Fishing

Remembering back to when I was kid, I think of times going to the Big Horns with my grandparents, or going fishing at the lake with them. These are probably my most fondest memories. My grandpa the avid fisherman, wanted to share his ever knowing knowledge to me. One Christmas, I received a red fishing pole from him. I was so excited to have my first pole. I had only used his before, they were to big and bulky for me to cast on my own. This one however, this was just the right size. Being that we have actual winter here in Wyoming, I had to wait until at least spring before I was able to use it. Right before our Sunday fishing trip to the local lake, my grandpa surprised me with an orange tackle box. He filled it with some new fancy lures, and some of his old ones. I thought this was one of the coolest thing ever to have. It went perfectly with the red fishing pole I had from Christmas. All loaded up in the car to go to the lake, I had envisioned catching the biggest fish, getting it in all by myself. My grandpa found us the perfect spot on the lake. My grandma made us a little camp that she would spend the day at, while we were at the water. It was now time, he cast his line in the lake and propped his pole on a rock and waited. Next it was my turn to cast my brand new, untouched line into the lake. I could hardly wait for this. I pulled back, carefully not to catch my self in the eye, I swung it out to the water. My grandpa helped me set it down on a rock, and I took out the slack. I sat there waiting, ever so not patiently. Finally in what felt like forever, my line started to move. Then my pole started to bend. I jumped up to grab my fishing pole, but I was to late! That fish had a hard bite on my hook. He pulled so hard he drug that new pole into the lake. I tried to run in after it, but I was to slow! My shiny new red pole was gone! Taken into the lake with probably the biggest fish ever attached to it. My heart was broken, and our fish bag was empty! I never saw that pole again!

When you think of the Big Horn Mountains, you think of beautiful mountainousness trees, and lakes. Wildlife, and habitats. At least thats what I think of when I remember them. We always had this spot at the Meadowlark Lake. They had a little lodge, with cabins all around that you can rent and camp in. I am not sure how many days we ever went on these trips, but I never wanted them to end. The first day there was for unpacking, picking your bed out, and figuring out what the day holds. My grandma was always in charge of us kids, myself, my sister and my brother. She always had plenty of food for us to eat. We never ever starved. One of my all time favorite snacks I like to eat stems from my grandma. You would take one of those fresh loaves of bread from the grocery store, tear off a desired piece, and stuff slices of pepperoni in the middle. This was always a staple of road trips, fishing trips, and camping trips. Seriously could go for some right now! The lodge at the Meadowlark Lake was neat. I remember it had a stocked fish tank you could stand and fish at. Of course it was like fishing at a rigged game, and we did not spend a lot of time there. My grandpa was all about real fishing in the streams and the lake. Although I did get to practice there, we spent most of the time finding those little rivers and ponds. It is hard to put into words the excitement that created for me. The thrill of getting into the tightest little spot, and cathing a “whopper” as my grandma would call them. I strived to catch that fish, and my grandpa being proud that he taught me to do that. After the long day of fishing, and bouncing from stream to stream, we always made it back to the cabin for grandma to cook up the fish. Now grandpa loved to catch it, but he never ever ate it. Grandma loved it though. She would cook it on the open fire in a skillet. She alway warned us about not chocking on the little bones of the trout. I had a couple close calls, I thought I was going to choke to death once or twice. While we ate our prize possessions, my grandpa ate a couple hot dogs, and probably some of that amazing pepperoni and bread.

I have not been back to Meadowlark Lake or the Big Horns since I was a kid. I think I may have been 10 at the most the last time I was there. This is one memory I have with my grandparents that has not faded, of course some details and what not are missing, but I can vividly remember those rivers we walked up to and cast our lines into.