Editor’s note: This is another column in Bill Boyd’s new series, “The Way It Was,” about growing up in Marysville. Bill continues to work with the Union County Historical Society to obtain information for his stories.
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It was the summer of 1953. I was in the Air Force, stationed in Denver, Colorado. I had a neighbor named Dick Crain, who was an avid trout fisherman. He was planning a weekend fishing trip with his brother-in-law and a friend named Don Ambler, both seasoned trout fishermen. Dick invited me to go along. It would be my very first trout fishing experience.
We would go to a beautiful mountain lake near Granby, Colorado. Don was building a cabin there, and we could camp at that site. I had left all my fishing equipment back in Marysville, so I bought an inexpensive, lightweight spinning rod and reel plus a couple of spoon lures. This would be a totally new experience for me.
On Friday, Dick and I headed for the mountains. We arrived at the site and cooked our dinner over an open fire. Then we sat around the campfire and I watched the others prepare for the next day’s fishing. Those guys had the largest, most elaborate tackle boxes I had ever seen. They were full of all types of lures and exotic fishing equipment. To a novice like me, it was a bit intimidating.
Then each of them pulled out what they called their “pop gear.” These were strings of very large brass spinners, with each string being maybe four or five feet long. I had no idea how they were going to use those things.
They explained that we were going to be trolling for the trout. They said that when the large spinners go through the water, they flash light in all directions to attract the fish. Then maybe three or four feet behind the last spinner they would attach their fishing lure. The weight of the spinners also took the lure very deep, to where they said, “the big ones are.”
They said I wouldn’t be able to troll because my rod was too flimsy. But I could cast my lure off the side of the boat and fish that way. They told me there might be a few smaller trout at that shallower depth. That was fine with me, because that was the only way I had ever fished back in Ohio.
The next morning, we were up early, and we shoved the boat out into the lake. They opened up the outboard engine and we seemed to fly to a place maybe half a mile to the south. Then they slowed the engine to “trolling speed” and began to feed their long strings of pop gear into the water.
After watching all this, I took one of my new brass spoons out of my pocket, and I cast it off one side of the boat. It didn’t take long … maybe on my second or third cast, that I felt a fish hit my lure. I could see my spinning rod bend, and I knew I had hooked a pretty big fish.
Dick shut off the engine, and they all started reeling in their lines to keep from getting tangled with my fish. When I finally got the fish up to the boat, Dick grabbed the landing net and netted it. Then all three of them congratulated me on catching my first rainbow trout.
Dick restarted the outboard motor, and all of them began feeding their line and pop gear back into the lake. I put my fish on a stringer and looked at it. I had never seen a rainbow trout before. I thought it was a beautiful fish.
I started casting again, and on my second or third cast, another trout hit my lure. Dick shut off the engine, and they all began to reel in their lines again. Dick grabbed the net and helped me land the fish. All three of those guys congratulated me once more, but they just didn’t seem to have as much enthusiasm in their voices this time.
All this was repeated again and again, until I hooked maybe my fifth or sixth fish, and when I got it close to the boat, Dick handed me the net as he said, “Here, net your own fish.”
I don’t know how many trout I caught that morning, but my stringer was full. When we got back to the campsite, there was a lot of talk about how a “Flatlander” from Ohio could catch so many fish. Then, Dick got out his camera and shot the photo shown here with this column.
During the rest of my days in Colorado, I went trout fishing many times. I caught a lot of fish and had a lot of fun, but I don’t think it ever compared with that day on Granby Reservoir. If it had been basketball, instead of fishing, I think they would have said that I was “in the zone.”
Those wishing to contact Bill Boyd can e-mail him at williamboyd514@gmail.com