Fishing nicknames.

    Almost everyone I fish with has or will be getting a nickname at some point. I have a few, one in particular stings and brings back memories of a fishing trip my family went on when I was much younger.  Some of the nicer nicknames I have been given include; Ben, meat-head and bullet proof.

   Most nicknames or pet names are given by someone they cared about or someone they didn't, some sting, some bring back memories that you would like to forget, or are a mix of fond and terrible like the one I am about to share.

   My family had taken a trip to Washington state to visit my parents family and friends, one of the friends lived in a cabin, right on the shores of a beautiful mountain lake with its own personal dock. The water was so blue and clear you could see the bottom in over 20' of water.  The lake held Cutthroat trout and Bluegills and other Sunfish. Over a few days my brother and I spent hours on that dock, casting for trout, jigging for sunfish and swimming. It was a great summer trip, and one that is still very clear in my memory.

    My brother and I were young, maybe 10 or 11 and we spent the days fishing from the dock, filling up a five gallon bucket with Sunfish so we could have a fish fry each evening. We would also throw heavy spoons as far as we could, trying to catch trout. We didn't have the best equipment as kids usually don't. My brother had an old closed faced Zebco, the type with the button on the back, with what I assume was 14# mono. It was the kind of pole and reel you gave to kids to avoid always fixing backlashes or other line problems. It was simple but effective.

  While my brother was attempting one of his world famous casts, I was kneeling on the dock hooking up a worm. My brother had a very big spoon on his pole, he reared back to give it an all mighty heave ho, and to my surprise hooked the back of my head with a huge treble hook. Now remember he was using an old Zebco closed face reel, I heard and felt that reel grinding and popping as the treble hook drove it's way into the top of my skull and to both of our surprise the line never broke.

    Boys being boys and the fear of getting into trouble with our parents, he attempted to get the hook dislodged from my head. We tried and tried to get it out by ourselves but it didn't work. So reluctantly we headed into the cabin to tell our parents and to get the hook out.

    My Mom was the first person we informed and showed, she yelled for my Dad to come over, who at the moment was over drinking beer and playing cards with his friends. Mom had me sit down at the kitchen table. My Dad looked at it and called his friends over for a show and tell, I explained what had happened how hard my brother had cast, the sounds, the pain and how we tried to get it out. After some small talk, some banter about leaving it there like an earring in my head and funny looks from everyone involved, the men decided they could get the lure out of my head.

  They first tried to push the hook through, then they tried pulling the hook out, then they decided there was not enough light in the cabin so they decided to go outside and sit on the tailgate of the truck. It was as if I was not embarrassed enough, lets show the whole community what this kid did. So the guys grabbed their replacement beers just in case, and there I sat on the tailgate, as three men took turns trying again to get the hook out of my head.

  While two of them took drinks out of their beers and gave directions, one tried pushing it through, then they switched and he tried pulling it out, the other tied a rope to it and tried to jerk it out. I felt my head going this way, then that way, then up, down and around. It didn't really hurt anymore at that point because I think I was pretty numb with all the prodding and poking and twisting and jerking.

    After what seemed like an eternity, and my embarrassment growing, my Mom put an end to the experimental hook removal, and made my Dad take us to the hospital ER. Sitting in the waiting room with a four inch fishing spoon attached to the back of your head is pretty embarrassing. The doctor looked at me, the hook, laughed, then he shaved my head, gave me a shot of pain killer, (that I don't recall even feeling), pushed the hook through, cut the barb and gave me the lure back. I think it took the doctor 2 minutes to end my misery.

    After returning to the cabin, I was given a new nickname that has stuck with me for over 30 years. Every time someone uses it, I remember that day, the hook, the prodding, the pulling, the smell of beer and the worry on my mom's face.

    I still have that lure, somewhere in my collection of lures and it's still missing a hook. To this day it reminds me of a great fishing trip, time spent with my brother on that dock, my family, and all because of one nickname: Plughead.

Thanks for reading my Blog and don't forget to follow me, I wish you all very pleasant memories and great nicknames.