Jackson looks back on some great adventures
My plate has been fully loaded.
I was told by my late mother that the first time I was ever on the water was in Texas during WWII, when she held me close to her chest as my father, dressed in uniform, rowed the boat around a large pond.
Irv was home on leave from the battles in the South Pacific, and was about to train new troops as re-enforcements.
As a child, little did I know that I was being schooled and groomed to walk the fields in Huntley and make sure a rooster pheasant wound up in my game bag instead of flying northward.
I was given many opportunities to join the foray for the Chain's white bass and crappie, while marveling at my father's prowess with his new spinning gear during frequent smallmouth outings on the Peshtigo River.
And then the clock's hands raced forward at light speed and I started writing about fishing and hunting and getting involved in outdoor broadcasting.
I am lucky to have stood on a sand beach in the Arctic and marveled at 22 ½ hours of daylight. I was fortunate to have dolphins leading me through blue waters in the Florida Keys. I have experienced alligator-like muskies charging me and crashing into the side of the boat.
I'll never forget one of my countless trips to Ontario's Quetico Provincial Park, sitting on a cliff-like outcropping at midnight and watching the eye candy race across the star-filled sky. The meteor shower was breathtaking.
I am lucky to be alive following a grizzly encounter in Wyoming while fishing beaver ponds. The giant bruin forced me and my partner up the side of mountain for refuge.
None of this one-way dialogue is braggadocio, but rather my effort to take inventory, so to speak, because I've always considered my life to be like a lost traveler, wandering around without the aid of a GPS system or compass.
So often in this column the words were just a mere accompaniment to the magnificent pictures taken by retired Daily Herald photo director Mike Seeling. He would make the camera sing and I would then look at the images and try to put words to the pictorial genius.
Seeling has been with me on these adventures for almost 25 years. We once stumbled across a huge cow moose and a calf in the brush near Homer, Alaska. I teased him and said I was going to get in between mother and child. He literally came “unglued when I started walking toward them and then I stopped and ran back to truck. “Only kidding, I told him.
On my many northwoods trips, I am often up at 4 a.m to make coffee and gaze at the planets and stars. But on one trip to Lake Huites in Mexico I sat on a cliff and watch the planets dance with each other in the night sky while listening to the wolves howl their overtures. It was being in the right place at the right time.
Southern Illinois has a special allure for me, with the Shawnee National Forest and lakes loaded with outstanding angling. To this day I will cherish those bass and crappie excursions on Lake of Egypt and Crab Orchard Lake. I can still taste the juiciness of the quail we hunted on a Franklin County farm. I am lucky to have been there.
And now to share with all of you, my latest “adventure and honor.
I have been inducted in to the National Freshwater Fishing Hall of Fame in Hayward, Wis. The award puts me in famous company as a “Legendary Communicator. And for once, this special honor has left me speechless.
Thanks for being along for the ride...