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“Old Bob”
and the Biggest Fish Story I’ve Ever Heard
He was getting on in years, but the love of the outdoors was as ingrained in his very being as was the path to the Minnesota River. “Old Bob”, as many had become accustomed to calling him, was once again assembling his rod, reel, and tackle, then adding a cigar, thermos of coffee and bottle of water to his gear, he was ready to go. It didn’t take much to keep the old man in his glory. Fishing wasn’t a weekend event for him, it was a daily ritual that eventually earned him a place in the great beyond right next to St. Peter, reeling in the biggest and the best.
Just like any other day, “Old Bob” found himself on the Minnesota River bank, baiting, casting, and enjoying the great outdoors. It wasn’t just the fishing. It was a place to commune with the tranquility of nature. Patience was a virtue of his that made the wait even more enjoyable.
Then BINGO! The STRIKE, the adrenalin rush, the thrill, and that wonderful feeling. It was a big one. The burst of excitement that awakened his hypnotized senses could only be equaled in hearing “Old Bob” tell about his catch of the day.
His responses were automatic. Patience, control and reel him in with a sense of purpose. Finally he was close enough to get a good look. What a big one! A walleye! A prize trophy! Then SNAP, the line broke. Nothing left but a memory.
This isn’t the end of “Old Bob’s” story. He came home that day talking about the 10 pound walleye that snapped his line and got away. He felt it’s weight, he even got a good look at it, and came so close to landing it. His enthusiasm was just as great as if he had it in the net.
Wait a minute!
How did he know how much it weighed? “Old Bob” had an answer to that one. Some guy down the river caught a 10 pound walleye. That guy’s fish story was even better. When he reeled in his walleye it had “Old Bob’s” line deeply embedded in its mouth.
The Minnesota River Valley sparks the deepest of memories. Its diversity and intrigue for adventure has no bounds. It has been both a playground in my youth and a giant to respect.
Old Bob’s daughter
Mary Holmes Babcock
North Mankato, MN
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