Broke down and got me a computer back in January of 1997.  Crazy to think that is over 20 years ago now.  Between being quite frugal and thinking why in the world would I need a computer, I was a hold out.  And now, here we are in 2018 and everybody in my house has some kind of device.

Once I unpacked that first system from multiple shipping boxes (big tower and big monitor) and got her up and running, a major project was putting some software to work in tracking my fishing results.  What you see in today’s Blog Banner photo is a result of some of that goofing around, the abnormal length distribution of a sample of the 460 bass I landed at Emiquon.  Of course, lots of factors come into play for these catches but the bottom line is that place just wasn’t right in those first several years.

Oh, but that only scratches the surface of the ways that everyday home and mobile technology has enhanced my enjoyment of this fishing hobby.  So here’s some good outdoor reasons to embrace The Computer Age from a guy whose childhood pre-dates home computers, cell phones and the internet.

Bassmaster tourney results in real time not in next month’s magazine issue.

Myriad fishing reports, although most not very good, secrecy still rules, I get it.

A plethora of fishing videos but think I’m getting too old for some of these crazy youngsters, I was born too early and have a tamer vocabulary I guess.

But hey, I can even make my own fishing videos, pretty fun but need some more practice and try to be less of a dork as I used “shoot”, “son of a gun” and “dangit” (3 times) in a matter of 9 seconds upon losing a November bass at boatside.

 

Satellite images of my fishing holes, 2D walk-in terrain looks better than the real deal.

We get do overs on fish pics with instant feedback on cameras and devices.

Can order fishing stuff from anywhere, anytime, kind of dangerous.

Can turn my display into the old baitshop counter stacked with Polaroids via a simple search such as “Emiquon Bass” (you should try that one, preview below).

I can share fish stories with other anglers in my living room and I’m the only one there.

I can send a pic of my latest catch to Mom (she shows Dad), Julie or my brother while sitting in an eight foot johnboat in the middle of nowhere, that’s cool.

And they’ll give anybody a blog these days whether he knows what he’s talking about or not.

Plenty more to add and just as many drawbacks to The Computer Age, I suppose.  But that comparison is a rough draft somewhere in a stack of folders for another time.  Yep, still actually use a pen and paper as part of this blogging adventure.  Talk to you later.  Troy

I started writing fish stories on a whim close to sixteen years ago and this submission brings my “career” total to 1,166 postings. That’s a lot of words and pictures, and a lot of time. Especially considering it’s not a paying gig beyond a $50 check I received once upon a time for my contributions at another website. But I knew that going in and I’m good with that, just like to write about enjoying the outdoors with family and friends.

What I did not foresee were several instances of a bonus sort of windfall, one of which is hanging from the lip of the bass in today’s blog banner photo.

K9 Walker Stickbait

This bass came from some Knox County, IL public walk-in strip mine ground in September 2013 on a homemade topwater bait. The bait, called the K9 Walker, was fashioned by a fellow from East Central Illinois who followed my blog on another website. A cool gift that I initially put to use in the spring of 2013 fooling several bass as pictured below.

5/27/13 First K9 Walker bass from a formerly unnamed lake now called “K9 Lake”

6/7/13 A fun “double” on the K9 Walker as both fish came on one cast of the bait

The September fish that is the subject of today’s blog banner pic was the second of a pair of four-pound fish that I caught on the outing from a then nameless remote pothole in the span of fifteen minutes. Since the designation of “K9 Lake” had already been assigned as noted in one of the above pictures, I took to calling this spot “2×4 Lake” in honor of the four-pound pair (the first four-pound bass fell to a Smithwick Suspending Rogue jerkbait).

One other note on today’s pic is the fact that the pothole cranked out another four-pounder in 2014 on a jig and pig. However, it will continue to be referred to as 2×4 Lake in honor of the fish story resulting from the second big bite of that September day courtesy of the K9 Walker (thanks, Frank, if you’re out there reading).

Besides, “3×4 Lake” sounds weird. Talk to you later. Troy

There are many unsung heroes among the gear that accompanies us outdoor types into “the wild.” No doubt that packbaskets rate quite high on the list of essential trapping accessories. They are not only invaluable in hauling traps, bait and lure for the process of making your sets but also make it much easier to lug your catch out when those previously mentioned items do their thing.

And as you can see from the today’s blog banner picture, a packbasket can also assist in transporting small trappers whose little legs just aren’t up for the long haul. In this case, the trapper in tow is my nephew, Brady, getting a free ride from his dad, Brent. This shot is from 2008 so it puts the age of the packbasket likely close to 30 years, which means that it has seen a lot of interesting baggage in its time. Point being, if that boy had any idea what has been in that thing over the years, he’d probably be bailing out in a hurry. A classic case of what you don’t know won’t hurt you and we aren’t telling, for good reason.

You see, Dad and Uncle Dick invested in packbaskets back in the late 60s or early 70s, a time when the muskrat population was rather nuts. After a few too many lengthy hikes back to the vehicle from creeks, ponds and sloughs, arms draped with a dozen rats apiece, they figured that there’s got to be a better way. And just as its easier to carry a kid on your back than in your arms, so it goes with fur.

1971 – Dad with a catch that perfectly demonstrates how the packbasket eases the load

2011 – Dad, Jayce and me with a cool packbasket shot as it rarely gets in the pics.  I opted for the good old shoulder ride with my boy over a packbasket ride. 

The packbasket was just what the doctor ordered for coons and beaver as well during treks of several miles through what we called “The Big Timber.” Similar to a fishing float trip, one truck would be left at the end of the trapline as the trappers were hauled to the start in another vehicle and dropped off for the walk through the creek. Let me tell you, coon legs are not a particularly comfortable handle if you have to walk very far and no matter how often you switch hands, the ball of your thumb begins to holler in a hurry. Of course, when you get that second coon, there ain’t no more switching hands.

Enter the packbasket and problem solved. Well, at least until you get about five coons or a 50-pound beaver, a few rats and a couple coons, or a weary legged kid. Oh well, techniques and lessons in trapping decision making for another day. Overall, a good problem to have and makes for some good stories when those packbaskets wind up overflowing. Talk to you later. Troy

Today’s pic of Dad from 2002 exemplifies an outdoor staple in my family, something we’ve always pronounced as rhyming with stick instead of seek, while specifically spelled as “creek.”

I suppose it wasn’t many years into my existence that I was introduced to this word as I grew up within a few good casts of what we simply referred to as “The Creek.” Of course, that particular example of this type of water was not a hotbed for fishing. In fact, it evolved into a bit of a refuse collection area over the years. But good old Cedar Fork, which transects my hometown of Galesburg, Illinois provided a great place to goof off and a free spot to dig worms or collect some leeches of “African Queen” proportions. A few stories there but for another time. Suffice to say, that will always be “The Creek.”

The spot in the blog banner photo, a branch of Henderson Creek in Henderson County, Illinois also has an unofficial name. It’s what Dad and Uncle Dick called “Pat’s Creek” after the farmer who lived on the lane leading to the destination. It was a regular trapping stop for decades as well as a solid fishing hole for either rod and reel or bankpoles.

Creeks, in general, are just plain old fun, take a look…

1976 – Troy and Brent Jackson seining minnows and crawdads

1981 Camping trip, me, my siblings and friends partake in good old muddy creek fun

1983 – Brent Jackson on float trip on Henderson Creek

1980’s Dad with a float trip haul

1980’s Uncle Richard Jackson with a float trip carp, great battlers in the close quarters

1994 – Pat’s Creek bankpole trip, Troy and Brent Jackson

1995 – Terry and Brent Jackson on (actually in) Pat’s Creek

2002 – Troy and Brent Jackson running bankpoles in Pat’s Creek

2002 – A favorite pic with Brent Jackson up to his neck in a battle with a creek catch 

As the pics above attest, many adventures from a place that if you’ve never visited, you’re missing out. And it’s at its best when you can jump right in and get your feet (and beyond) wet. Gets kind of entertaining at that point where it starts to get deep enough to make you breathe a little funny, too. Just another of the joys of a day in the creek. Talk to you later. Troy

Valentine’s Day features a pic of my wife, Julie, thanking a cooperative bass. Her catch came from Drake Lake at Jim Edgar Panther Creek near Chandlerville. IL back in July 2013 during a three day/two night getaway from the kids.  While this reaction dates back to Jimmy Houston in the 80’s and has resurfaced with some of the YouTube generation, I personally find it much more attractive with this lady.

Thinking back, I pretty much could’ve kissed the fish too after the trip had a few early hiccups. A flat tire before we left Galesburg on a day when our route to the service station was about to go on lockdown due to a visit from a fellow named President Obama kicked off our getaway.

Then came the futile wild goose chase to get Julie a fishing license only to come up empty handed along the Illinois River of all places. Finally found one the next day after I’d had a disappointing solo, 4 bass outing on The Emiquon Preserve. I’d also unknowingly flirted with trespassing on the Virginia City Reservoir the previous evening as I later discovered that it was no longer an IDNR property.

On the plus side, family members had pitched in to take the kids in order to allow our getaway and a friend I’d met through a previous blogging gig had offered up some free lodging in the area.

 

So, after the rough start it all worked out in the end with an enjoyable and all too short getaway. Worth it to get to spend some quality (and quiet) time with this fishing partner and steal a few kisses myself. Talk to you later. Troy