Obtaining Knowledge 11/13/2017
“You are always a student, never a master. You must keep moving forward.”
— Conrad Hall
Every angler starts somewhere. Its like a new job, a new relationship, a
new stretch of water—it’s all the same idea. Fishing is universal because it
bends to the person holding the rod. Some folks crack a beer, set a chair, and
watch a bobber. Others run boats, sonar, high-dollar rods, or hike miles into
the woods to micro-fish forgotten pools. None of it is wrong. Fishing is what
you make of it.
For me, it’s trout. Always has been. I grew up chasing them, and I’ve
been hooked on the finesse ever since—the light gear, the subtlety, the fight.
My take on gear is simple: I like spinners. I like luring a fish into striking.
Watching a trout follow a spinner to your feet, hesitate, then commit—it never
gets old.
No matter what species you chase, there’s one phrase every fisherman
needs to understand: you never know.
When you truly accept that you never know, you put yourself in the right
mindset.
You can fish a pool one day, drifting garlic salmon eggs, getting hit
all afternoon. Same water, same presentation, two days later—nothing. That
doesn’t mean you forgot how to fish. It means conditions changed, or the fish
did. Maybe they aren’t hungry for that offering. Maybe they’re there and just
not interested. You never know.
What you do know is when something isn’t working. And when salmon
eggs stop producing, I reach for something louder and brighter. Spinners flash.
They thump. They wake fish up. Call them childish if you want—I’d rather be
catching fish than standing in the water doing nothing.
What about the thousands of other baits and lures? They all work, or
they wouldn’t exist. It comes down to preference and experience. I’ll throw a
spinner into bass cover or drop one deep for lake trout without hesitation. Is
it always the easiest option? No. Sometimes it is. That’s where experience
lives.
A fisherman who understands what he knows—and applies it to what he
doesn’t—isn’t a master. He’s a student. That’s the sweet spot. Learning never
stops.
When things slow down,
don’t immediately blame the lure. Change your approach first. Adjust your
position. Be quieter. Give the water space. Think wider. The lure is often the
smallest variable in the entire equation.
Spinners are my preference, but that doesn’t make them perfect, and it
doesn’t make me a master. The challenge of making something work is half the
thrill. The pursuit matters as much as the catch.
Knowledge has no ceiling. You don’t conquer it—you collect it. Learn
what works, question why it worked, and then go looking for the next lesson.
Stay steady when fishing is slow. Run with it when things click.
Knuckle down.
Fish on.
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