ijsouth
09-09-2008, 11:06 PM
When I was growing up, I actually used to look forward to hurricane season. I guess I had the normal fascination with nature that a boy has, but I also used to look forward to watching Nash Roberts plot the course, then tell everyone where the storm was going. Old Nash is a legend in the New Orleans area; he started tracking storms in the Navy in W.W.II, then went on to a television career in which he ended up working for all three major network affiliates in town. Nash was definitely old school - he called the correct track for Audrey in 1957, all without the benefit of satellite. He frequently disagreed with the official forecasts of the hurricane center, much to the chagrin of the other meteorologists on the other stations, and he stuck with his dry erase board maps and markers long after the advent of high-tech visual aids. Even after he retired as a day-to-day forecaster on tv, WWL would bring him out of semi-retirement whenever the gulf got interesting - a sure sign that things were serious. He finally retired completely a few years before Katrina, to look after his ailing wife; the apocryphal story is that his neighbor saw his car missing the day before Katrina made landfall, and that was enough to convince the neighbor to evacuate...it is true that Katrina was the first storm he left town for. Anyway, I admired the man, and envisioned a career of flying into such storms and tracking them. Well, things didn't quite work out that way, and while I still have a fascination with these powerful examples of nature's fury, after dealing with a tree through my roof, insurance claims, and whatnot from Katrina, my boyhood fascination with tropical weather has been tempered a bit - I would just as soon see them make landfall somewhere else.
Anyway, we had made one last summer trip to the mountains in mid-August, before school started. As usual, I found myself wanting more of the streams, and an article I read online about a particularly rugged and isolated part of the park piqued my interest. Before long, I had talked myself into another trip - this one over Labor Day weekend, and with my oldest only. I reasoned that she deserved some down time with me, after looking after her sisters all summer - of course, that was also a way to rationalize another trip up there. I knew it would probably be a bit much of a hike for her younger sisters, and I at least wanted to see just how difficult of a slog it would be to get there. So, I made our hotel reservations, and planned to leave as soon as school and work were done that Friday. That was the weekend before; by late Monday afternoon before that Friday, we started to notice the formation of Gustav in the Caribbean. By Tuesday, it was rapidly looking like Southeast Louisiana was the prime target, and the rest of the week was a blur of preparation at work, prepping our backup servers to become our new production servers. I kept the reservations, but instead of a trip for two, it became a trip for five - my three girls, my mother, and myself. We left early Saturday, and even though the major evacuation calls wouldn't be made until Sunday, we saw a lot of Louisiana plates between Meridian and Birmingham. We made it up to Townsend, dropped by LRO and hollered "surprise!" It was definitely more than a bit surreal. Our plans to hike to that isolated area were by the boards, but I was still able to fish a little; for the most part, I would wake up early and drive to Cosby and fish for a few hours, then head back to the room and see what everyone else wanted to do for the rest of the day. The girls weren't really interested in fishing much - they were happy swimming back at the hotel. My oldest just got a cell phone, and she soon found out that one of her friends from school had evacuated to Pigeon Forge, so one day we met her family at the Laurel Falls trailhead and hiked to the falls. As much time as we have spent in the park, and as often as I have driven right past that crowded parking area, we had never done this obvious "touristy" thing. It was ok - but frankly, I've seen prettier water when fishing:
http://i154.photobucket.com/albums/s243/ijsouth/IMGP0604.jpg
On another day, I dropped the girls and mom off in Gatlinburg, and I poked around the WPLPR, finding the water a bit on the high side, then heading over to Jakes Creek for a few small trout. Other than that, it was Cosby for a few hours each day, as we waited to see what would happen back home. I decided to see how high up I could go and still have fishable water - I soon found out that the higher I went, the better the fishing was, not only in terms of numbers, but also in average size. For the longest time, I have wanted to get a brookie that was really dark. The specs became darker the higher I went up the mountain:
http://i154.photobucket.com/albums/s243/ijsouth/IMGP0608.jpg
I said I fished Cosby in the mornings...a few times, I was able to get out in the evenings, before dark, as well. I kept exploring higher and higher, and one night found an extremely deep, relatively still pool. There was one large rock towards the tail end, and I dropped my Mr Rapidan about 10 feet in front of it and watched it slowly drift toward the rock. It never made it that far - I had a ferocious strike, followed by the screaming of the reel - the fish was hitting the reel and taking line! He made two huge runs, taking about 20 ft of line before I was able to turn his head and beach him on the little rock beach in front of me. He was a true beauty, a good 7.5 inches, and wonderfully colored:
http://i154.photobucket.com/albums/s243/ijsouth/IMGP0599.jpg
However, I soon noticed blood leaking from his gills - he had swallowed the fly. With a lot of regret, I decided to keep this gallant fighter - I don't think he would have survived. I've never hooked a trout on a fly that deeply, and if he wasn't bleeding, I would have snipped the line and released him. This was the first brookie I have harvested - I know there is nothing wrong with keeping a few fish, and it probably helps the overall population to thin out a few now and then, but I just have so much respect for these native specs, I don't like keeping them. I certainly don't mind keeping rainbows as much. On the way back to the hotel, I picked up a cheap styrofoam cooler and some ice, and packed him away. Hopefully, I'll get to eat him this weekend. I added a rainbow the next day. Along the way, I spooked a young bear cub one morning - I whistled loudly and kept my head on a swivel, looking for momma.
While I enjoyed exploring areas of Cosby I had never been before, and I was glad to be able to show my Mom the park a bit (including a classic touron display at Cades Cove, idiots armed with cameras running into the woods after a bear), the whole experience was more than a bit strange. You couldn't really consider it a normal vacation, and you had to wonder how long you would have to live out of a suitcase. For Katrina, the girls were out of town for the better part of a month, while I worked in Baton Rouge and came home to a house without electricity, waiting for the power to come back so I could go and pick them up. That wasn't going to happen this time, but the news from home was very fragmentary. I was able to swing by LRO another time, and Byron was very generous, allowing me to have some online time to check my email and try to find out some news. Finally, I spoke to my boss two days after landfall - he was at his house in Metairie, and he never lost power! We left the next day, and as we approached home, it was clear that we dodged a bullet - just some branches down, but nothing like Katrina. We had power, and the stores were open, and it was clear that things would be returning to normal in short order. Our little adventure was over - if we had to leave town, I'm glad I know where to head.
Anyway, we had made one last summer trip to the mountains in mid-August, before school started. As usual, I found myself wanting more of the streams, and an article I read online about a particularly rugged and isolated part of the park piqued my interest. Before long, I had talked myself into another trip - this one over Labor Day weekend, and with my oldest only. I reasoned that she deserved some down time with me, after looking after her sisters all summer - of course, that was also a way to rationalize another trip up there. I knew it would probably be a bit much of a hike for her younger sisters, and I at least wanted to see just how difficult of a slog it would be to get there. So, I made our hotel reservations, and planned to leave as soon as school and work were done that Friday. That was the weekend before; by late Monday afternoon before that Friday, we started to notice the formation of Gustav in the Caribbean. By Tuesday, it was rapidly looking like Southeast Louisiana was the prime target, and the rest of the week was a blur of preparation at work, prepping our backup servers to become our new production servers. I kept the reservations, but instead of a trip for two, it became a trip for five - my three girls, my mother, and myself. We left early Saturday, and even though the major evacuation calls wouldn't be made until Sunday, we saw a lot of Louisiana plates between Meridian and Birmingham. We made it up to Townsend, dropped by LRO and hollered "surprise!" It was definitely more than a bit surreal. Our plans to hike to that isolated area were by the boards, but I was still able to fish a little; for the most part, I would wake up early and drive to Cosby and fish for a few hours, then head back to the room and see what everyone else wanted to do for the rest of the day. The girls weren't really interested in fishing much - they were happy swimming back at the hotel. My oldest just got a cell phone, and she soon found out that one of her friends from school had evacuated to Pigeon Forge, so one day we met her family at the Laurel Falls trailhead and hiked to the falls. As much time as we have spent in the park, and as often as I have driven right past that crowded parking area, we had never done this obvious "touristy" thing. It was ok - but frankly, I've seen prettier water when fishing:
http://i154.photobucket.com/albums/s243/ijsouth/IMGP0604.jpg
On another day, I dropped the girls and mom off in Gatlinburg, and I poked around the WPLPR, finding the water a bit on the high side, then heading over to Jakes Creek for a few small trout. Other than that, it was Cosby for a few hours each day, as we waited to see what would happen back home. I decided to see how high up I could go and still have fishable water - I soon found out that the higher I went, the better the fishing was, not only in terms of numbers, but also in average size. For the longest time, I have wanted to get a brookie that was really dark. The specs became darker the higher I went up the mountain:
http://i154.photobucket.com/albums/s243/ijsouth/IMGP0608.jpg
I said I fished Cosby in the mornings...a few times, I was able to get out in the evenings, before dark, as well. I kept exploring higher and higher, and one night found an extremely deep, relatively still pool. There was one large rock towards the tail end, and I dropped my Mr Rapidan about 10 feet in front of it and watched it slowly drift toward the rock. It never made it that far - I had a ferocious strike, followed by the screaming of the reel - the fish was hitting the reel and taking line! He made two huge runs, taking about 20 ft of line before I was able to turn his head and beach him on the little rock beach in front of me. He was a true beauty, a good 7.5 inches, and wonderfully colored:
http://i154.photobucket.com/albums/s243/ijsouth/IMGP0599.jpg
However, I soon noticed blood leaking from his gills - he had swallowed the fly. With a lot of regret, I decided to keep this gallant fighter - I don't think he would have survived. I've never hooked a trout on a fly that deeply, and if he wasn't bleeding, I would have snipped the line and released him. This was the first brookie I have harvested - I know there is nothing wrong with keeping a few fish, and it probably helps the overall population to thin out a few now and then, but I just have so much respect for these native specs, I don't like keeping them. I certainly don't mind keeping rainbows as much. On the way back to the hotel, I picked up a cheap styrofoam cooler and some ice, and packed him away. Hopefully, I'll get to eat him this weekend. I added a rainbow the next day. Along the way, I spooked a young bear cub one morning - I whistled loudly and kept my head on a swivel, looking for momma.
While I enjoyed exploring areas of Cosby I had never been before, and I was glad to be able to show my Mom the park a bit (including a classic touron display at Cades Cove, idiots armed with cameras running into the woods after a bear), the whole experience was more than a bit strange. You couldn't really consider it a normal vacation, and you had to wonder how long you would have to live out of a suitcase. For Katrina, the girls were out of town for the better part of a month, while I worked in Baton Rouge and came home to a house without electricity, waiting for the power to come back so I could go and pick them up. That wasn't going to happen this time, but the news from home was very fragmentary. I was able to swing by LRO another time, and Byron was very generous, allowing me to have some online time to check my email and try to find out some news. Finally, I spoke to my boss two days after landfall - he was at his house in Metairie, and he never lost power! We left the next day, and as we approached home, it was clear that we dodged a bullet - just some branches down, but nothing like Katrina. We had power, and the stores were open, and it was clear that things would be returning to normal in short order. Our little adventure was over - if we had to leave town, I'm glad I know where to head.