I’ve been tasked with writing about my dream fishing trip. The who, the what, the where. I often dream of fishing for something massive in exotic locales: smallmouth on Erie, tarpon somewhere in the sunny south, huge largemouth on Falcon, swimbait fish on Clear Lake. Exquisite as those locations may be, there is something to be said for water you know like the back of your hand that also happens to be one of the best lakes in the country. Fortunately for me, I’ve been on that dream fishing trip many times per summer for the last 20 years.
Champlain has been my home lake for as long as I’ve had a home lake. The quality largemouth and smallmouth up and down the lake will always keep me coming back. It’s a great feeling when you can go out in the summer with two rods and feel perfectly confident about where you’ll get bit and what they’ll bite. If the bites happen to be 3+ pound smallies- so much the better.
Naturally, I’d fish for the smallmouth if I had my choice. Bedding season is unreal and summer and fall rarely disappoint. Also, there is something about watching and hearing a big smallie crunch a Tennessee Shad GunFish 115 that never gets old. Additionally, they reside in a much more romantic part of the lake than the largemouth. I take a perverse pleasure in battling the frequent waves in the big part of Champlain. Of course, that constant chop only makes me appreciate the calm days more.
And, there is no better person to fish with than the person who taught you to fish. It isn’t even a question that I’d fish with Dad. I like fishing by myself and with friends but it’s tough to beat a day spent talking fishing and baseball with someone you’ve talked fishing and baseball with forever.
The final piece of the puzzle is the sheer amount of memories I have on Champlain. Walking down the dewy stairs to the little boat on a cool fall morning, catching particular fish twice, learning about a “new” boulder on a drop, watching the point gradually erode. The amount of time I’ve spent at our camp simply magnifies the pleasure I take in returning. It just never gets old.
This blog entry is my submission for the Red Tuna Shirt Club and Outdoor Blogger Network Writing Contest.