Lake of the Ozarks.  Not sure exactly where.  Summer of 1978 or '79.  Dad and I waded waayyy out from shore on a point, stepping and hopping from one large boulder to the next in water that was over my knees but under dad's.  We reached a place where the boulders ended and the water dropped deeper and started casting over the drop.  Dad caught a couple on his beloved floating Rapala.  He could only afford two and he left the other one in the truck. He stored BOTH of them in their original packages when they weren't tied on.  Those were the only lures that stayed in their original packages. 

 

I was struggling to get bites with a pre-rigged "swimming worm".  I remember it was yellow with black spots.  I was only 8 or 9 years old so my casting wasn't great either.  

Dad caught a few and then reeled in his lure.  He kept fingernail clippers on a shoestring around his neck to make lure changes easier while standing in the water.  He clipped that floating Rapala off his line and I couldn't figure why he would take it off when he was catching!  Then he told me to reel in.  He clipped off my polka-dot swimming worm and tied his favorite Rapala on my line.  I was excited and terrified at the same time, praying that I wouldn't lose dad's favorite lure.  

 

I started throwing over the ledge with him coaching me.  I caught a short one pretty quick and kept going.  Two fish later I saw the biggest splash of my young life when a five and a half LM hit that Rapala.  Dad yelled gibberish and whooped as I started the fight.  It ran and I let too much slack in the line.  That big bass came completely out of the water, twisting back and forth.  When I see it in my mind it's always slow motion and I felt like I was one of those guys with the southern drawl who fish on TV for a living.  I thought I'd messed up but that fish stayed on and I kept fighting.  I got it all the way to dad and he lipped it while I was still fighting and the fish was swimming, making it look as easy as picking your shoe up off the floor.  Dad weighed that LM with an old spring scale that usually just laid at the bottom of his tacklebox, and he was smiling the entire time.  Dad was proud, which just about made my heart explode.  

 

I'm not much for pining away about the past or wishing for any do-overs.  I know how blessed I am.  But, given the chance for one trip in a time machine to fish?  I figure this would be the day.  Not the biggest bass I've ever caught, but it was the best one. 

What a great story and memory, @BigAngus752. Thanks for telling it.

 

 

I don't know if I was scammed or not, but I met a small, pale professor. I think his name was Peabody. Anyway, he sold me a Wayback Machine that he said will take us back in time. Fingers crossed it works!

1993 and get another shot at that 20+ lb bass I lost and fish with my son everyday.

Tom

This year, early February, Bassmaster Kayak Series event on Lake Kissimmee.

 

I lost what appeared to be a double digit bass or at least very close to it.

4 million years ago in the Pliocene era to target the largest and most powerful predator that has ever swam, Megaladon.

 

Not sure how though because even saltwater tackle might not cut it.

 

 

 

I'd go back to North Carolina pre-human habitation. I want to fish totally undisturbed waters and generally just soak up what nature was like back then. In this magical scenario I've got a motarized boat, some means of portaging the boat between water, unlimited fuel and supplies, and don't run the risk of getting devoured by some hungry mega-fauna roaming around. I'd throw in some hunting gear as well, because why not?

 

I'd run the waterways of the state from the coast to the mountains. I'd still probably find some way to skunk out a few times though 🤣

Dale Hollow Lake, July 8th 1955.

Dale Hollow and tear it up with Billy. 1970 s with no sideburns 

15 hours ago, BigAngus752 said:

Lake of the Ozarks.  Not sure exactly where.  Summer of 1978 or '79.  Dad and I waded waayyy out from shore on a point, stepping and hopping from one large boulder to the next in water that was over my knees but under dad's.  We reached a place where the boulders ended and the water dropped deeper and started casting over the drop.  Dad caught a couple on his beloved floating Rapala.  He could only afford two and he left the other one in the truck. He stored BOTH of them in their original packages when they weren't tied on.  Those were the only lures that stayed in their original packages. 

 

I was struggling to get bites with a pre-rigged "swimming worm".  I remember it was yellow with black spots.  I was only 8 or 9 years old so my casting wasn't great either.  

Dad caught a few and then reeled in his lure.  He kept fingernail clippers on a shoestring around his neck to make lure changes easier while standing in the water.  He clipped that floating Rapala off his line and I couldn't figure why he would take it off when he was catching!  Then he told me to reel in.  He clipped off my polka-dot swimming worm and tied his favorite Rapala on my line.  I was excited and terrified at the same time, praying that I wouldn't lose dad's favorite lure.  

 

I started throwing over the ledge with him coaching me.  I caught a short one pretty quick and kept going.  Two fish later I saw the biggest splash of my young life when a five and a half LM hit that Rapala.  Dad yelled gibberish and whooped as I started the fight.  It ran and I let too much slack in the line.  That big bass came completely out of the water, twisting back and forth.  When I see it in my mind it's always slow motion and I felt like I was one of those guys with the southern drawl who fish on TV for a living.  I thought I'd messed up but that fish stayed on and I kept fighting.  I got it all the way to dad and he lipped it while I was still fighting and the fish was swimming, making it look as easy as picking your shoe up off the floor.  Dad weighed that LM with an old spring scale that usually just laid at the bottom of his tacklebox, and he was smiling the entire time.  Dad was proud, which just about made my heart explode.  

 

I'm not much for pining away about the past or wishing for any do-overs.  I know how blessed I am.  But, given the chance for one trip in a time machine to fish?  I figure this would be the day.  Not the biggest bass I've ever caught, but it was the best one. 

I thoroughly enjoyed this story. 

Summer of 1973 in the Atchafalaya Basin. That was the year the Morganza Spillway was opened for the first time to relieve pressure on the Mississippi River levees downstream.

 

When the water finally fell to fishable levels in the Basin and we were catching as many as 100-150 bass a day. The fishing was so good I skipped the fall semester at LSU so I could fish everyday. 

 

I dont know how many times I have heard..."you should have been here yesterday!"

or worse, "they were hitting topwater feeding frenzy style, right before you got here!"

 

with a Time Machine..."give me a moment"

2 hours ago, river-rat said:

The fishing was so good I skipped the fall semester at LSU so I could fish everyday. 

You, sir, have your priorities in good order. 

Not fishing...but duck hunting. 

 

I would time-machine back to my freshman year in college, south central Nebraska. There was a thousand acres public marsh LOADED with ducks. It was absolutely amazing, standing in waist deep water, tucked back in to the reeds, listening to the whistle of wings...then the splash as ducks landed in the decoys just feet away. Great memories!

Back.to the mid 90s when I was a preteen ....would love to go night cat fishing with my dad and grandpa again.

This is easy for me I would give anything to go back to the days of fishing in Melrude Minnesota with my older brother and his buddies along with my dad, cousins and neighbors which last happened for several years over 40 years ago and much like many others on here I’m no longer able to fufill this fantasy as a few of the aforementioned have moved and or passed away.

I'd go back to the Grand Kankakee Marsh before we trashed it. Maybe even before the first Europeans got here.

 

As far as people go.. back to my 20's when me and the guys I grew up with were taking fishing vacations together. Good times were had and priceless memories were made.

I'd go back to my childhood, and I'd strive to become a pro. I wouldn't let the passion fade. I would spend every evening at the fishing hole I had, honing my techniques.