From humble beginnings at Montauk State Park, to Lake Taneycomo, to the shores of Kodiak, AK - Father & son, Greg & Alex Stephens, shaping a young boys foundations in the Great Outdoors
Sometimes I think you have to be over forty before you realize the levity of some of life’s most unexpected lessons…such as lessons learned while fishing with your dad. These days, while sitting at the campfire and staring out over the river through the early morning mist, I remember back to my first fishing experiences in the early 1970’s. Through the hazy and blurry distortions of time’s prism I see my dad and his friends at our weekly fish-fries on the Current River at Montauk State Park. I remember the sheer ecstatic excitement of a young boy finally being included in the elite group that I knew only as ‘the guys.’ I remember being amazed that these grown-ups actually knew my name! I remember all the pranks, teasing, and laughing directed at me, the new kid, as we fished holes known locally as “Hudson’s Corner,” “The Howard Hole,” and “The Slough.” Today, with my own children growing up and my Dad now gone, I realize there was a much greater significance to spending time fishing with my father and his friends than just the elation of a young boy coming of age. A young and evolving outdoorsman’s sense of value and belonging is shaped by these rites of passage in the great outdoors.
From those humble beginnings my fishing exploits have evolved to an extent Dad would have never imagined. From Florida to Alaska, the venues, friends, and experiences have morphed from a fun-filled pastime to a component of my own outdoor ‘Maslow’s hierarchy of needs’ in my personal journey toward outdoor self-actualization. One such venue was the annual trip to Lake Taneycomo with ‘the guys.’
The names, places, and dates have been changed to protect the innocent….and since none of them were innocent except me - John McColloch, Don Smith, Larry Maxwell, Charlie Pace, Benny Bryson, Jim McDaniels, Bud Glazier, me and several others used to attend an annual fishing trip to Taneycomo every February. Now, in the cabin sitting around the table on fishing trips is much akin to sitting around the campfire during deer and turkey season - there are great stories and laughter, but sometimes the first liar doesn’t have a chance. And, as I learned while playing cards with ‘the guys’, the only honest player at the card table never has a chance!
In my experience fishing Lake Taneycomo in February is often as cold as or colder than fishing in our northern sister state of Alaska. The cold can be down right brutal but the trophy potential is excellent, the card games are fun, and the food in Branson is great! And hey, when you have a chance at landing a world class brown trout, such as the Missouri state record brown trout landed by Scott Sandusky in November 2009 on Taneycomo, a little cold just adds to the excitement. Scott’s monster brown trout, a 28 pound, 12 ounce, 37 inch behemoth, was the third consecutive state record caught in Taneycomo since 2005. The lake previously produced a 27 pound, 8.8 ounce and a 27 pound, 10 ounce brown trout which each held the record for a period of time. According to the Missouri Department of Conservation, Lake Taneycomo has virtually immeasurable potential for producing world-class trout. Enough said.
So, we have a world-class trout fishing lake, good friends, good food, and much laughter. What more could you ask for? Speaking of laughter, one of life’s lessons learned quickly while spending time with ‘the guys’ is that you had better be able to laugh at yourself, because if you can’t laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at, right? Now, for those of you who don’t know me, I have a glass eye from a fight with a grizzly bear…ok, but I really do have a glass eye. Now all of ‘the guys’ know that we will have fun with that glass eye at my expense or someone else’s, whenever the opportunity presents itself. Another lesson learned quickly from ‘the guys’ is the unwritten code requiring all group members to cheer up any other in the group who is down on their luck; it’s a moral imperative of sorts. Such was the case the last time I was on the Taneycomo trip.
You see, our buddy John McColloch had been devastatingly out-fished and out-card played by virtually everyone else in the group…again,… and he wasn’t even the honest player in the card game. While we were at dinner Charlie Pace gave me the high sign and I knew I had to bale out our dear friend from his deep, dark, depression in the amateur fisherman and card player doldrums. Someone directed John to look out the restaurant window and when he did, I did the only thing that I thought might make him forget about being embarrassed on the lake and at the card table - I took out my glass eye and dropped it into his water glass. The eye sank through the ice straight to the bottom and when John turned back around he didn’t even notice his glass was looking back at him. With the whole table watching his every move, after finishing his dinner and finally drinking to the bottom of the water glass, his eyes and my eye met. Now I’ve seen lots of reactions of appreciation from my attempts to cheer up a down-and-out buddy in my day but never have I seen someone so choked-up with emotion that they almost lost their dinner right then and there! That is how John reacted…he was a little green colored too. I was touched by John’s reaction and I’ll treasure the memory forever. As will all the rest of ‘the guys,’ who were obviously likewise touched as they were crying, kicking, rolling, and screaming on the table and on the floor. You see, that’s what fishing and hunting buddies do - reaching out to friends in their time of need.
Learning to interact with and be part of the whole of Mother Nature, life-long memories, and, many years later, understanding there was more value to it than the immediate face value of the thing; these are the rewards for the outdoorsman interacting with family and friends in the Great Outdoors. Even in today’s technologically advanced world these memories, experiences, and lessons are still the ones upon which to firmly bed a young child’s outdoor foundations or to provide soul food for an old experienced outdoorsman. So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly. Good luck, be safe, and get a big one.
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