Story by Todd Goade | Photos by Tanner & Travis Lyons
My Dad had me fishing and hunting at an early age. Growing up just outside of Springfield, Missouri, in a small town called Rogersville, we spent a lot of time around Table Rock Lake and the rivers that fed it chasing white bass, crappie, and bass. Lots of memories were made on those trips, and I learned tips and tricks to catch those fish that I still use today.
When my Dad was working during the week, I would get home from school and most days consisted of a snack, doing a little homework, and then heading out to the nearest farm pond, river or creek with my buddy Marty on our 10-speed bikes loaded up with fishing gear to see what adventures we could get into. I always told Mom which way we were headed, and we’d be home just before dark. I only wish that kids of today could experience half of the childhood that I experienced!
We always made a pass by Ellingsworth’s Pond as that place always seemed to have the bigger bass. The lures of choice back then were a blue back floating Rapala, a Beetle Spin, a Rooster Tail, a Creme Worm, and a Heddon Tiny Torpedo. All those baits still catch fish today.
Sometimes we’d branch out and make longer bike rides to places like the Finley River and Lake Springfield. Lake Springfield had some backwater areas at the bottom of the James River hill that were always productive for numbers of small bass. That hill was always fun riding down but not so much going back up. If you’ve been there, you know what I mean.
My grandparents lived 125 miles away in Salem, Missouri, and I spent a lot of summers fishing there, too. The Merrimac River ran through their place and the headwaters were about eight miles upstream from them. I have so many memories wading the river with my grandpa catching goggle-eye, perch, smallmouth, and an occasional largemouth. We had the special places on the river named such as the Long Hole, the Strickland Hole, the Bluff Hole, Washausen’s hole, and Elmer’s Cabin. We knew we could always get some bites at those spots.
I used to ask Grandpa all the time “Let’s go to the river,” and he’d always say, with a cigar in his mouth that he never smoked but just chewed on, “We have some chores to do first.” Once the grass was cut, the garden worked, or beans snapped then he’d say let’s go. At the time I didn’t realize the lessons he was teaching me, but as I got older, I did. Work ethic matters.
While fishing got me into trouble a couple of times riding my bike further than I was supposed to go, it also kept me out of trouble in many more ways. Getting outside and exploring was always intriguing to me and still is today. Riding my bike down farm road 186, I used to think “Is there a new pond over that hill?” or “What’s around this curve?” It’s the same today when I fish a new body of water, always wanting to know what’s around the next bend.
All to catch a fish. All to make a memory. All to enjoy God’s creation. Everyone should experience “All” just once. Fishing does “All” of that for me.
