Realizing a rite of passage with a little help from Granddad.
Photo Above: Eli holds his first ever smallmouth bass.
Photo Courtesy of Bruce Ingram | Photo styling by Janette Spencer.
When the school year ended last May, my nine-year-old grandson Eli proclaimed that he wanted the two of us to go fishing a lot during the upcoming summer vacation. So when his older brother Sam went off to camp and Eli lost his best playmate, I called Elaine’s and my daughter Sarah and told her to send the boy across the hollow after he had eaten breakfast.
Catawba Creek flows through the Botetourt County, Virginia, land where we all live, and the James River tributary hosts primarily smallmouth bass and two species of sunfish: rock bass and redbreast sunfish. Eli has caught plenty of sunfish from local farm ponds while using worms beneath the classic red-and-white bobber—just like generations of rural kids before him.
But my grandson had never dueled with a bass, gone wade fishing or used artificial lures. So when Eli arrived, I regaled him with the promise that we were going “man-fishing,” something that he had never experienced before. I could tell immediately that Eli was intrigued and intense about the challenge presented.
After we made our way to the creek, I showed him how to ease into the water and then slide his feet along the bottom so as not to create ripples and spook our quarry. Next, I explained that smallmouths prefer rocks and current and told him we were going to cast lures into a riffle that lies upstream. Then I explained that we were going to use lures that imitated a bass’ two favorite prey items: minnows and crawfish. Finally, I detailed how to tie a clinch knot to affix a Cordell Big O (in a crayfish pattern) to his line and a Rapala X-Rap (in a minnow hue) to mine.
We began casting into the swift water, and though Eli was reasonably adept with handling a spinning rod, I could tell that he was struggling with the finer art of making his crayfish imitation dart and dip like a creature terrified by a mossyback about to maul it. It was then that I decided to initiate the subterfuge that many dads and grandads have deployed before me.
A smallmouth hit my bogus bait, I set the hook, then flipped the bail and let the fish swim unhindered. Then I announced to Eli that we should switch rods for luck and see what happened. My grandson grasped my rod, turned the reel handle a few times and felt the tug of the madly dashing bass.
“Granddaddy, I’ve got a big one on!” Eli screamed. “Is it a bass?”
“Wow, yes, Eli, it’s a big bass! Play him. Don’t horse him in.”
Too excited to follow my directions, Eli furiously reeled in the eight-incher and held it up for me to admire and him to marvel at. I next showed Eli how to immobilize any bass by positioning my thumb in its mouth and my index finger under the lip. After a few pictures, I explained how to remove the treble hook and release the fish unharmed.
Flushed with pride over his accomplishment, Eli resumed casting with several of his offerings ending up in the trees or shoreline undergrowth. I patiently explained that was all part of fishing. The boy was able to catch two more smallies of the same size, both times requiring the change-the-rod-for-luck ploy.
But I was glad to perform the little deceptions. After all, isn’t that what dads and granddaddies are supposed to do when they are introducing a new skill to youngsters?
The story above first appeared in our May / June 2024 issue.
