getting a great start to the year thus far[/caption]by Matt Lynch
Catfish. One word that can stir up emotions ranging from hardly a furled brow, to a quickening heartbeat. Who hasn't caught Mr. Whiskers before at some point in their angling endevours? The question becomes how much was this end result pursued? Was he merely a byproduct of another targeted species? Was he the focus of the angler all along, adding to the sense of accomplishment in landing the targeted ictaluridae? In either case, when you met him, you probably were a little suprised at his tenacity and his penchant for suprising you at the boat when he made his final drag stripping run back for the gloomy depths. For some of us, these traits he possesses leads us to target him specifically. And we all have our stories as a result...
Although my first encounters with Mr. Whiskers predate my early obsession, my story and memories start out around the age of thirteen. Although not getting to go very often, nothing was more exciting than getting to pursue backwater channel catfish in my early youth. The beauty of catfishing is it can be as simplistic or as technical as you want to make it. Naturally in my earlier endevours simplistic won out and the technical part progressed. For a time I was content with my Johnson Century, Rhino Rod, and some outdated 8lb mono, throwing a simplistic unpainted lead jig with a nightcrawler wofting in the current. However at some point when you are fishing for a family of fish that can grow in excess of 100lbs, those little skillet size offerings give way to the urge to have a moderate saltwater rod doubled over with a true giant frothing the water and sending a mixture of slime and water all over the boat.
I began working at age thirteen at the marine store where my father works to help support the addiction and to keep myself occupied when not in school. It was a fun and simplistic time, usually spent stocking shelves, cleaning boats, and if I was really lucky helping my dad go do an on the water test where I keenly studied the banks seeking new hiding spots for a big cat. It was also a time that catfishing was beginning to bud in the eyes of the young media. Well before social media and tournaments, I can remember about three different publications at the time, the primary one of interest being In-Fisherman's Catfish Insider. I still have every one of these ever printed and even still have some old decals/patches to this day. I scoured the pages trying to learn more. I wasn't content just picking a shoreline and guessing at what it might hide. I wanted to know what attributes would offer the proper housing to a nomadic cat seeking rest. I remember staring in awe at pages and pictures of Doug Stange and his catfishing adventures and feeling a connection. I even began calling him at the In-Fisherman office to ask for advice because this man was far greater a celebrity to me than anyone else. Luckily, being such a kind hearted person, he was more than happy to entertain my calls, questions, and letters, and always had the proper guidance from his vast years of fishing to point me in the right direction and to this day I'm still very thankful to him for it. Even being kind enough to let me write some small articles with hopes of gracing the pages of his magazine. As a byproduct of my early job, I was able to finally upgrade some gear. No more would I pick up a Zebco spincaster, no more would I use cheap equipment that would at some point lead to heartbreak when it failed in a brawl of boy and whiskers. I remember my flagship rod and reel combo which at the time felt like I was putting down money on a mortgage. If only I knew then how cheap it would be today in hindsight. I finally was able to go to battle with a brand new Ugly Stik Tiger and Penn 209M loaded up with 50lb Big Game, a setup that as I now type this, is setting on the rod rack behind me waiting to hit the water in a few days. I was very quick to learn the concept of "get what you pay for" and I never skimped out. I remember my father questioning my very high priced catfish bag with its $50 price tag. A day when soft side bags were just beginning to catch on along with the Plano boxes, but I don't regret it for one second. Why do I not? Because it's still the only catfish bag I've ever had or needed and every shad scale deep within it and every stain from dipbait has a story. That bag has saw many triumphant returns to the ramp with huge flatheads waiting for a quick photo before the release, days baking in the sun on the Clinch for a quick skillet sized channel cat, and hectic days on the Tennessee River brawling with blue cats. That same bag sets patiently at my feet right now waiting to supply me with my tackle whenever it is needed.
I also remember a more simple outlook with boats. My first boat, being a 1958 Norris Craft 13ft tiller with an only slightly younger 7.5hp Mercury on the back. This was before downscan, side imaging, and GPS. A time when generic black and white 2D graphs and flashers ruled the water. However I lacked even these crude devices, instead relying only on local knowledge of the water and the aquatic terrain during winter pool, when the vast aquatic canvas was subdued by the TVA dams heavy generation into smaller pockets revealing an otherwise alien landscape. I was always watchful for old creekbeds and drops that would serve as the roadmap to the underwater predators as they moved between haunts. Always daydreaming of what a deep cut in the bank or hollow log would look like with the bulk of a 50lb flathead protruding from it during high water times to come.
There's enough smaller stories from these times to write a book about, but these are just a few memories from the beginnings of an addiction. These days the world is much more high paced and hectic. A family and work occupy the majority of my time and I've also become engrossed in the world of muskie angling with a venture with a couple friends in the latter years. I have to admit, I've been slacking alot on putting a hook in Mr. Whisker due to this but as I gear up for this year, I think I'm going to go back to a distant time and promenade more often with the big cats. It's a good step back from the crazy part of life and also gives way to great opportunity to get my wife and kid in the boat with me when the sun warms the air and the towering concrete leviathans constructed by TVA allows the waters to rise back into the shallow lairs where no panfish is safe from hungry eyes of a lurking catfish. Yes, Mr. Whisker, you best ready yourself. I'm coming back more motivated than ever with some new tricks up my sleeve, for the same ol' song and dance.
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