Nostalgic fishing trip one for the memory bank

Dear Dad;

I did exactly what you suggested, back in those days when we would go to the Chain every weekend.

I went to what I remember to be the approximate spot where we would clobber the crappie and largemouth bass. It was shore fishing on the bank of your friend's Pistakee Lake property. His son now lives there and he remembered me from our weekend jaunts. I chose the shore outing because it was quiet and peaceful.

I found the tiny plastic box filled with some of your prized panfish lures. It's the one where you always had it in one of your fishing jacket pockets. I stuffed it with a few small hooks, just in case I planned to use minnows, too. Even managed to fit in some plastic grubs.

I decided to use your "old" Abu-Garcia ultralight rod and Mitchel 308 reel just so I had some extra glue holding me to you. I'll admit, though, I had to replace your old 4-pound mono with some new line. It was only right after all those years.

Ah yes, those were the day. My dad, Irv, with limits of crappie chilling in the fish cooler. Mom's sandwiches always tasted much better when we stopped fishing for an early lunch. And the Hershey bars for desert - couldn't beat them with a stick. Sorry to admit, Dad, candy bars are no longer on my menu.

And so I sat there, on my little ice fishing bucket rig, to which was affixed a comfortable, padded seat.

Dad left Mom and me some 30 years ago, and yet almost every time I pick up one of his rods or shotguns, I feel as if he's standing next to me, waiting to see how well I clean the gear.

And so I'm sitting there, close to the water, with two rods, some iced tea and a warm jacket.

I make one cast to roughly 25 feet straight out, toward a partially submerged tree. The 1/16-ounce jig-spinner flutters its way down, ticking the branches as it slides to the bottom.

The third cast, it turns out, is the magic one.

A fish strong enough to halt my retrieve gets my attention, and it heads for deeper water.

It is a nice 12-inch crappie, with its sides darkened by small stripes and ridges.

I went back to the exact same a spot couple dozen more times and continued to hit the mother lode.

It was close to an hour's worth of experimenting, with a couple dozen fat crappies as hard data. I only kept three fish.

I then drove to the Grass Lake Road bridge and the C.J. Smith Resort. This time I rigged one of Dad's rods with a minnow and a slip float.

Sometimes the spring current is quite swift at this bridge, but on this particular day it was slower than usual.

I flipped the rig under the bridge and allowed it to "casually" drifty its way southward. Just as the line was about to straighten out the float disappeared beneath the surface. It was walleye time.

This fish was a small male, eager to inhale a quick snack. I gently placed it back in to the water and decided I had enough great memories for one day with Dad's gear.

As sweet as it was using his old stuff, I would have rather preferred to have had Irv with me in the flesh so we could share the moments.

• Contact Mike Jackson at angler88@comcast.net, catch his radio show 7-9 a.m. Sundays on WGCO 1590-AM (live-streamed at www.1590WCGO.com) and get more content at www.mikejacksonoutdoors.com.