The fishing hole

As mentioned before, when we were growing up we spent alot of our time in Sterling Nebraska.  Because my dads favorite hobby has always been fishing, we spent a lot of time at various ponds during these visits. There was always one favorite fishing hole that my dad would take me to. I suppose my mom and siblings would go there too, I just don't remember.

It took determination to get to this fishing spot. We would pile into the car and drive down the high way. Somehow my dad always knew the exact place to pull off on the side of the road and park. If my memory serves me correctly (and it may not, but this is my story so this is how I will choose to tell it) we would be on some sort of farmers road and have to walk. In case you don't know what a farmers road is, I will try to describe it. A farmers road is not really a road at all. It is just a spot by the farmers land where he could drive to get to the other side of the field. Generally he drove on this non road so often that there would be 2 tire paths in the weeds. So we would walk down this tire path farmer road with weeds as tall as I was and trees on each side that shaded us. In my memory I worked hard to keep up with my dad because I had to carry  all of the fishing poles, maybe even the tackle box.  We would get to the fishing hole down by the rail road tracks and I would have to stand in place while dad would walk on and check out the site before letting me continue on down to the water. One time I could hear all kinds of kids laughing so I asked my dad what the heck those kids were doing and why I always had to wait while he checked things out. He told me he was making sure that the kids were not skinny dipping. It never occurred to me until years later that maybe I would have wanted to see what skinny dippers looked like, but dad must have figured it was something I shouldn't see.

Finally after all that work we would be able to get started fishing. This little spot was more of a small creek shaded by trees with water so clear you could see the fish swimming around.  We used to catch fish after fish...again, my memory and maybe a small bit of a fish story, but I am sure we caught alot. When done, we would tromp back to the car. 

 Was this a great place to go to with my dad, or a great place to go because I went there with my dad?

Happy Birthday Dad, thanks for all the great memories.

Net