Take me Back Tammi.

Tammi in all her glory.

The farm ponds that littered the landscape of San Luis Obispo like acorns from an oak tree, provided the soil for my interest in fishing to take root. My friends and I would buzz from one of these farm ponds to another, like villainous bees on the hunt for our next bass adventure.  

Bishop's Peak.

We would talk about girls, drink an occasional root "beer" and sneak a smoke or two all while pursuing whatever fish would take our bait. This grew into more of an obsession for me as I turned my baseball card collection into an expensive bass lure anthology. It started with bobbers, hooks and crimp weights, then escalated to a few Kastmasters, Roostertails and Rapalas, finally guiding me to the arsenal of bass destruction also known as the Bass Pro Shops mail order catalog, and I have been chasing the dragon ever since.

The view from Tammi's right arm.

Tammi and my arsenal of "dragon" baits mosied on down to a few farm ponds to see if she could be my "delorean" to those carefree days. Hoping each bass I caught would take me back closer to my youth, until finally I would hear Doc say, "Great Scott!", and turn around to see the amigos of my teenage years along the bank. This didn't happen of course, but fishing still gave me a jolt of youthful excitement with every new tug on my rod.

Farm pond. 

Even though my feet were planted in the present, these familiar images dispersed me back in time, like a strong wind does the seeds of a dandelion. Thanks Tammi, for blowing this little seed pod back to where it all began.

Skyman out.