When I was about 8 years old some family friends offered to take my father and I on a fishing trip to Mirror Lake. They talked a lot about this renown lake and for several years, I thought it was the ONLY Mirror Lake (I’ve since come to learn that there are thousands of “Mirror Lake”).

Mirror Lake was a mountain lake in the High Uintas of Utah. After what seemed like a couple of days of drive (probably no more than an couple of hours), we arrived at the location. Mirror Lake was a relatively small lake surrounded by pines and quaking aspen. There was evidence of beaver activity.

Fairly early on, I cast out and apparently hooked the big one. It was fighting. Another member of our party on the opposite side of this small lake cast out and also hooked something.

While we were both fighting, the “big one” surfaced. The beaver. I had hooked it’s tail, and the other guy had hooked something on it’s head. He wasn’t very happy. He thrashed around a bit and the lines broke.

But Mr. Beaver got even. That day we had caught several fish and left them on a line in the cold lake. We walked to another near by lake planning to come back and clean the fish before heading home. By the time we got there, the fish and line were gone. Since there weren’t any other people up there, we’re pretty sure Mr. Beaver had himself a nice fish dinner of rainbow trout.

( Average: 4.00 out of 5)
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This post was submitted by Paul.

When growing up in Sobieski, MN my parents would take my two brothers and I fishing. We typically would fish for sunnies and crappies (pan fish). I had never experienced catching any “big lunkers”. My husband and I went fishing and camping with some friends over the 4th of July a couple years back. Our friends brought their boat along so we could fish. They rigged my line with some fancy lure , I casted and was hoping to catch a big walleye. Not more than 15 minutes into our excursion the big one bit! I have never reeled anything bigger than a sunny, so I thought it was quite the fighter. I could barely get it in the boat! My husband grabs the net and we successfully netted the walleye into the boat. I am screaming with excitement that I caught this monster walleye and the first one of the day. Everyone in the boat is telling me to hush because people on the lake are going to come fish the spot that we our at after they hear a lady screaming with excitement. We measure the fish and it’s 20 inches long and in my mind I am thinking “holy cow”! Still on cloud 9 I ask, “Is that a good size fish?” Their response: that’s a good size, but I through back anything smaller than a 23 inch long walleye. Oh well, it’s still the biggest fish I ever caught!

( Average: 3.00 out of 5)
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This post was submitted by Peaches.

Growing up in central Minnesota has some clear benefits. One being that in certain areas the law doesn’t really exist or appear often.

I was on a camping/party excursion with some friends and acquaintances (no names will be mentioned to protect the innocent). The campground was on the Mississippi River. Some people had brought fishing equipment and I asked to use it for abit. Permission was granted and I grab a rod and some beers to head down the bank of the river to wet my line and my whistle. Reaching what I thought to be a good location, I set up shop. The afternoon/early evening was nice and I was enjoying myself even with no bites on the line. Now the bait/lure I was using probably had no business being on the line for where I was, but I didn’t care, I was just hanging out.

Time went bye and I heard some rustling behind me, as though someone was coming. I thought it was someone I was camping with, no big deal, hopefully bringing me some more beers. Well I was wrong, I looked over my shoulder as they approached and saw Mr. DNR Conservation Officer! We talked for abit about the fishing, weather, blah blah blah. He asked me for my fishing license. Well, I was in a pickle since I didn’t have one. We talked for awhile longer, with no way of me getting out of this one.

Results of this was a warning, confiscation of the rod (which wasn’t even mine) and humiliation going back to camp. I paid the guy who’s rod it was for my mistake. I’ve always, always bought a fishing/hunting license for whatever I’m up to.

( Average: 3.00 out of 5)
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This post was submitted by CRUSTY.

My first fishing experience didn’t happen until I was 11. I was introduced on my first overnight camping trip as a boy scout. We went camping near a mountain lake in the Rocky Mountains west of Denver.

We got up early, got to the lakes edge around sunrise and were fishing away. Being young scouts, most of us didn’t have any of our own gear so our scout leader broke open is tackle box and identified the lures we could use (obviously they were the “its’ okay if I never see them again” lures). A quick instruction about knots and casting and we were off.

Me and another scout, now a Major in the Air Force, had to share one of our leaders old rods. I began. After several casts with nothing to show for it, my leader informed me that one of the reasons he let us use that lure is because it was the one lure in the box he had never caught anything with.

I almost immediately gave up and handed the rod to my buddy, Ty, who, was eager to prove to the leader that it’s the fisherman, not the lure that makes the difference. He is so naive, I thought.

Not expecting much, we all turned our attention to other people. But shortly after his first cast, he is jumping around trying to get help with the fish on his line. Unbelievable. One cast and he caught something with a useless lure. Turns our, the lure truly was useless. He had in fact caught a nice lake trout by hooking the gill. Dumb luck.

He was so excited about his success that he quickly got the fish off the hook and onto the stringer and was ready for another cast. He apparently didn’t hear me when I told him to wait. I was standing right behind him.

At first, I just thought some large insect had bounced off my cheek. It wasn’t until Ty started wildly waving the rod around to try and see his line in the water that I realized that it was his lure, still covered with fish guts, and it was connected to my face about 1/2″ below my right eye.

At first it didn’t hurt much, but before long it was throbbing. I don’t know if it was the velocity of the cast, or the waving of the rod, but 2 of the tri-hook prongs were deeply set in my cheek and we were hours away from professional medical help.

My leader and I decided that the best course of action was to have him take the hooks out there at camp and then I could get to a doctor later that evening when the trip was over. No big deal, he thought.

With the barbs and how deep the hooks were implanted, he couldn’t quite figure out a good way to pull the hooks out backwards so he decided to clip the individual hooks off with wire cutters and push the hooks through. I knew I was in trouble when the pain from him just trying to cut the hooks ripped through my face.

Well, after many tears, screaming and some blood, I had 4 nice holes in my face. For about a year and a half afterwords, those four holes served as a reminder every time I looked into the mirror, don’t stand behind the guy with the rod.

( Average: 3.00 out of 5)
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This post was submitted by Doug.

It was the weekend following Labor Day every year at Steve’s Resort in Lake Benton, MN. I had been to this specific tournament a few times with my dad. It had been running for years, and by this time it had turned into more of a father-son tournament with people from all over the area.

The year was 1997; I was seventeen and already had quite a few years fishing under my belt. The tournament had three classes; walleye, pan fish, and northern. Dad and I were in it for the Walleye (of course). Shotgun start at 8am Saturday morning we all sped off on our boats to our favorite spot. It started out as a nice morning… but unfortunately it turned windy, cold and rainy by noon. We fished until we could no longer feel our fingertips, went back to warm up, and then back out for more. Not a single fish was caught on Saturday.

Sunday morning we went back out on the lake… same weather, I was still frozen from the day before, not to mention my clothes were still a little damp. FINALLY a little luck… I caught about a 1-1/2lb walleye. That fish helped me warm up for about 45-50 seconds! We trolled for what seemed like hours, spotting fish on the hummingbird but not catching squat. Around 11:00am we trolled near another team and asked them how they did. They said they had their limit, and the biggest one was around 5lbs… we were baffled and continued changing lures as much as possible to find what they were biting on. I was frozen stiff and asked my dad if we could go in on several occasions. He said “give it another half hour, I know there’s fish down there, if we could just catch a couple we can go in.” Another five minutes passed and BAMM… I got slammed with a great hit. I fought the fish for what seemed like hours (more than likely a couple minutes) and dad finally netted my 8lb 12oz walleye.

I warmed up quickly after that, and although we found out what they were biting on, didn’t catch anything else before we came in for the end of the tournament.

At the ‘awards ceremony’ we asked the other team how much they really had… the one guy said “we didn’t have squat… that teaches me to lie”

We won the tournament with 2 walleyes, but I’d have to say that’s my greatest memory of any fishing trip with my dad!

( Average: 3.00 out of 5)
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This post was submitted by Nick.