by Kelly Reeves
Late one summer evening, I walked into my shop and found a typical sight. My son was sitting in the 20 foot bass boat getting our gear rigged for a fishing trip the next morning. There was no less than fifteen rods scattered over the deck with more bait boxes and bags than you can count strewn all over the boat and shop. I stopped for a second to take it all in. Bass boat, 250 hp outboard motor, spot-lock trolling motor, power poles, electronic fish finders with sonar, side imaging, GPS mapping, live-scope, and who knows what else. There were thousands of dollars of rods and reels, rolls of monofilament, fluorocarbon, and braided line, CO2 powered inflatable life jackets, digital scales, and GoPro cameras. I thought to myself, “What could possibly be next?” I wondered what my grandfathers would have thought if they were to walk in and see this ritual taking place.
I then thought back to my childhood when a tackle box held a few long shanked hooks, a couple of bobbers and some split shot, a partial roll of 12 lb Stren line, a pair of needle-nose pliers and a stringer, an H&H or two, a Rooster Tail, and a Tiny Torpedo. Cane poles and a Zebco 33 combo hung in the rafters of the barn and were always ready for use. This very minimal investment was all that was needed for a day of fun and a skillet full of fish. What happened to the beautiful simplicity of going fishing? I began to dream about the simple ways and simple days of fishing in my childhood.
I thought about it a lot over the next few days and couldn’t shake the desire to simplify things and catch a few bream the way I did as a child. In those days, you could find a patch of cane and cut and make your own pole or purchase a traditional cane pole, rigged and ready, at Gipson’s store, any bait shop, and most roadside green stands for a very small price. That’s no longer the case. You can buy a two-piece, off-brand, bamboo pole at Walmart if you are so inclined, but it makes my stomach turn to buy anything that low of quality, and would ruin my entire experience. So, I soon found myself walking in a nearby creek bottom with a sharp machete. It didn’t take long to find a patch of switch cane. Although there was probably 50,000 cane poles to the acre, none were exactly what I was looking for. I wanted a pole about 12 feet long and 1 ½ inch in diameter at the base, with a strong tip. I continued on down the creek to the next cane break where I found four poles that met my criteria. I cut the green poles and hurried home to prepare them to dry. After stripping the leaves, I touched up any sharp stems on a belt sander before hanging the poles vertically (tip down) with the tip weighted with a brick, from the rafters in the barn. This allowed the poles to dry straight and not curl up.
It took about three weeks in the hot barn for the poles to dry and turn a golden brown. I then treated the poles with a coat of varnish to add some degree of protection to them. Once dry, I tied a length of 15 pound monofilament to the tip of the pole leaving a long tag end. The long tag end was then tied again about three joints down the pole in case the tip were to break while landing a fish. If the tip were to break, you will lose the pole but at least you’ll keep the fish. On the business end, I allowed about 6 feet of 15 pound monofilament, then reduced to 8 lb fluorocarbon for another 6 feet. The total line length was almost the length of the pole. From there I completed the rig with a long shank bream hook, a split-shot sinker, and a small bobber. I spun the line around the pole several times and stuck the hook into one of the joints. Now, the pole was complete and I was ready to fish. My total investment was under $1 dollar, and about an hour of my time.
I was quite pleased with the end results of my new poles. I put them away and went about my barnyard chores. I turned over a water trough to wash it out and refill. When I moved it, I found several crickets underneath which I took as a sign from the Lord, “Thou shalt not wait. Thou shall wet thy hook.” I caught three crickets in my hand and put the chores on hold. I took my crickets and my new cane pole to a pond on my farm. I baited my hook and eased the cricket down into a broken off tree top at the edge of the pond. My bobber floated among the limbs. I twisted my pole to take up some of the slack in the line and waited for only a few seconds before the bobber began to bounce, making ripples on the water. I had exactly the same feeling of excitement in my stomach as when I first kissed my high-school girlfriend. Finally, under it went! I raised the tip of my pole and was in the middle of my first fish fight on a cane pole in forty years. I pulled the fish from the water and had a nice sized Bluegill bream. The satisfaction of catching that bream on my handmade pole was greater than catching a 12 pound bass with today’s technology. I lost my other crickets during the excitement which ended my fishing trip for the day, but a perfect trip it was, nevertheless. This taste of old school fishing did not quench my thirst for the simplicity of days gone by, it just made me hungry for more.
Fishing with cane poles actually opens the doors to a whole other world of fishing. I call it stealth fishing. A cane pole allows the fisherman to ease along a river or creek on foot, or in a lake by boat, and quietly ease a worm down into a tree top, under a dock, into a small void in a lily patch, or under an overhanging limb and never even make a splash or cause any disruption whatsoever. When you get a bite, you lift the fish straight up and out without tangling or disturbing your spot. These poles can also be easily fished just like flipping a jig or creature bait that so many bass anglers are familiar with. You hold the pole in one hand, hook in the other, and sweep the rod with an underhand flip of the wrist. Let go of the hook as your rod tip points where you want the bait to drop. I feel safe to say you’d be hard pressed to backlash a cane pole!
A few days later, I found an old coffee can, partially filled it with soft dirt, and punched holes in the lid. I dug a handful of worms from the barnyard and put them in the coffee can with two crickets I caught. I loaded one of my cane poles and headed toward the river nearby. I walked along the bank and dropped a cricket into every log jam and tree top I came to. There it was again. That feeling of excitement when I saw the first ripples form around the bobber as it danced up and down. The bobber suddenly dipped below the surface and I lifted the pole and pulled out a bream the size of my hand. I quickly rebaited with the other cricket and dropped it in the same hole and soon had another dancing bobber and a nice bream. I either got a bite quickly or moved on to the next spot. I returned to the truck three hours later with eight nice bream, two channel catfish, and a big smile. This was the most fun, relaxing, and least expensive fishing trip I’d been on in a long time. I never backlashed and had nothing to repair when I returned home. It is truly a low maintenance fishing experience.
The whole idea of fishing like Grandpa, may seem corny to some, outdated or foolishly primitive to others, but it filled a void with nostalgia that I don’t regret. There is something about the sweet simplicity of it all that made it so satisfying. It was a whole lot of fun and I plan to do much more bobber watchin’ in the future.
