Since I was able to hold a pole, more than three decades now, I have been at home on the waters around Cincinnati, OH. I find no greater peace yet no greater excitement than the anticipation of what might bite on the other end of my line. It’s that mystery, that unknown, that has always driven me to thirst for more time on the water.
As a young boy, I learned of fishing from both my mother and father in different ways. They both had very different fishing educations from their parents and I got to experience some of each.
My mother spent much time with her father on waters such as Lake Cumberland. In her younger years, she was chasing fish in big waters from a small boat.
I remember one story she told of a line snagging on the bottom. Rather than lose a hook, her father would swim down following the line to set it free. They were very hands-on, especially with catfish. They planned everything, down to the nitty-gritty.
She learned how to clean them and cook them right there on the bank over a small campfire.
As for my father, he spent much of his younger years traversing creeks, uncharted lakes, and ponds. He did a lot of exploring with his friends, sometimes miles from home.
They would take their bikes and poles sandlot style and find whatever waters they could and try to see what they could catch. The thrill of the adventure drove him to utilize his self-taught survival skills to find some of these magical fishing holes. If it wasn’t dropping the bikes on an old bridge, it was wading chest high into creeks, digging for worms, and creek walking for crawdads to use for bait. They never knew what they might catch. Every trip yielded new encounters.
I started roughly the same way. There weren’t many “wild” places to travel to, so my parents would take me to local and county parks with my brothers. Sometimes we were just bank fishing for bluegill. Sometimes we would rent a rowboat to chase bass and crappie. We always loved every minute of it. But the real fishing bug hit me on a very peculiar camping trip.
It may not have been my first camping trip but it was my most memorable one. Dad took us to East Fork State Park for a weekend. When we got there, he forgot the tent poles so we had to make do with a canopy and converted it into a makeshift tent.
The next morning, we drove to the campground boat ramp for some fishing. Vegetation growth had been low so we went on a bit of a hike from the ramp around past a cove, and way back into the sticks into another cove. It was loaded with standing timber. We spent most of the morning and afternoon fishing and caught some for the biggest bluegill, crappie, and largemouth bass I had ever seen. We fished like kings that day, claiming poison ivy as our grand prize.
After going back to camp for dinner dad drove us back to fish at night. That’s when my whole world of fishing turned on its axis.
Dad made a small campfire and pulled over some logs for us to sit on. We were geared-up with Zebco combos, worms, chicken livers, and small bobbers. We had flashlights to watch them with. We actually didn’t catch much at all, if anything. But the experience and the way the night triggered your senses differently was what stuck with me from then on.
Now I’m 33 years old and over the last couple of decades or so, those triggers still stick in my senses and they are what gives me such a rush, as well as such a calm when I’m fishing.
It doesn’t matter if it’s the Ohio River, the Great Miami River, East Fork Lake, or the strings of creeks and streams in between. I’ve had just about every experience a guy can ask for while fishing. But nothing has thrilled me more than the joy of catching catfish.
When I’m fishing, it’s not about catching the fish—although this an excellent payoff. It’s so much more. Planting myself down on the bank; taking in the sounds; noting all the interesting smells; sometimes even the tastes in the air that tickles your senses; looking up at the moon and watching dark clouds drift past it. It’s the anticipation, the anxiousness of waiting to see the tip of a rod bounce or the sound of a clicker being pulled on. Even the warmth of a campfire has its pleasantries. It’s just being there that has me coming back.
The biggest joy I find however is passing the experiences on to others in my life. To see someone else’s eyes light up and their heart race when a fish comes to play. To see the excitement in someone’s eyes when you were able to share something new with them, something they didn’t know before. The satisfaction of my children’s’ pride showing when they land a big fish. I could never ask for a warmer feeling in this sport than that.
The best thing about fishing is the fact that everyone does something totally different than his neighbor, and they all work. There is no right or wrong way to go about it, and we all get to experience the same result. So, what if you hold a spinning reel upside down. Sure, it may look silly, but as long as you’re reeling in a fish who’s to judge?
I fish because I fish. It’s enjoying God’s creations. It’s peace. It’s calm. It’s pure. And for me, there’s nothing on this earth that’s just as electrifying as it is soothing. For some it is a hobby, for some it is a past time, for some it is tradition, a way of life. For some, it is a means to survive. For some, it is even a career.
Fishing is the same all over the world, and people from all walks of life enjoy it in their own way.
If you were to ask me today why I catfish? I would simply say, because catfish are my favorite things to catch, and they don’t have curfews either!
Epilogue: Hardwick’s passion for catfishing has led him to several related activities. Significantly, he created a popular product for the catfishing community known as WhiskerStix. They are small LED lights that he designed to attached to fishing poles for night fishing. That endeavor has led to a website where the WhiskerStix and other related products can be purchased. You can learn more by visiting his website at www.whiskerstixfishing.com and his YouTube Channel at www.youtube.com/whiskerstixfishing.
