My Fishing Edventure

I rarely post, and for those of you who know that I made the first C in my life in freshman English at King you'll know why. In my sanctified and perfected state I will have prose and diction in a beautifully displayable bag, but you get the rural east Tennessee compromise.

Saturday I was jonesin' badly to hit the e.coli infested waters of the Chattahoochee as it courses through the city of Atlanta. My demeanor as I asked Ami whether I could leave her that afternoon or Sunday afternoon very clearly said that I REALLY badly wanted to go TODAY!!! For you fishermen out there, slightly overcast, just rained, threatening rain, countless hatches, tons of debris floating down the river(both good and bad), and very little wind all screamed hit the water. My previous experience in this part of the river proved to be very productive with some very large trout, so the level of expectancy grew even more.

In my limited knowledge of this new area, I had consulted my fellow dental friend Walt. Walt spoke of an easy hike of about a mile to arrive at the panacea of all fishing holes. He told of jumping fish, clear-wadable water, and no other fisherman, including just a small caveat of a hill and a bamboo forest on the way. After pulling into the parking spot I geared up with my waterproof waders that come up to my armpits, my vest loaded with every fake fly imaginable, my float tube(a glorified innertube) and my flyrod. Setting off at a pretty brisk pace I kept remembering Walt's words "maybe twenty minutes...about a mile...bamboo forest". Included now is a map of the area I was fishing. I was walking north and I have given you some insight into the path that I CREATED. Most of what you seen drawn in dark is the first time human feet have trod on the forest floor. My path took me near the river, and I thought that I should stick close to the river so as not to lose my bearings. Suddenly the path became much more narrow and ambiguous, at one point I looked forward where the path joined the river and thought, maybe this is where the bamboo forest starts?!? As I looked to my right there stood a CLIFF with a very legible path leading up the face. I guess this is where I am to go, so I follow. About thirty minutes into climbing the sheer face my waterproof waders are full of smelly saline water, I am breathing like an asthmatic with no albuterol, lugging an innertube the size of a tractor trailer tire and my beautifully engineered FELT boots have zero traction on the decaying leaves of the forest floor. My gut told me, "Just keep going up the hill, you'll find a path, and you would be an absolute idiot to go back and start over." I found the path. GUT: "Stay on the big path"

My doctorate degree finally worked so I wasn't about to lose what dignity still remained. Now forty minutes into my twenty minute hike I am still wondering where the stinking bamboo forest is. "Stay on the big path" keeps resonating in my sweat and spiderweb covered head. I stayed. Then the path became suddenly very narrow followed with leaf covered sheer switchbacks. My pride is gone just like Spears as I skid down numerous faces ending in a small creek. No path is on the opposite side of the creek....sacagawea!!!. But Bear Grylls' words suddenly came to mind, "Yew know if eye follow this smowller tributry doanstream, I will likely find a larger tributry." Then a roadblock and a small path appear on the opposing side!!! A twenty foot climb later, yeah another big path. This is near the devils race course shoals. Well I got in and found the whole river entirely unwadable because the generators must have been on upstream at the dam. All this to say that when I finally put my foot into the water one hour and fifteen minutes after starting I thought of my friend Walt and cursed silently, "Never believe a 72 year old man stating it's an easy hike when two months ago he ran a marathon and won his class".

P.S. The two fish I caught were awesome fried in butter and seasoned salt.