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11-29-2013, 04:36 AM
Join Date: Mar 2009
Location: Marietta GA
But as pretty as those fish were and how much better I felt it was still a chilling reminder when I decided to take an underwater shot just for curiosity sake… … the result speaks for itself.
The rest of the day turned into as normal a day as could be expected fishing in that type water, but I couldn’t quite escape the sense of melancholy from the damage that I knew must be upriver to cause this. However, the scenery was indeed gorgeous and fish were caught and some even fairly nice like this one.
That evening found me and my mother sitting out on the deck, watching the unspoiled wonders of the world … … from these marvelous hummingbirds … … … to one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen in my many years in the mountains.
The beauty of the sunset was like a miracle for me, it was as if God was also saddened by the destruction and wanted to share some beauty to inspire hope, like a rainbow in a thunderstorm. With that thought I once again fell asleep to the sound of the river.
I couldn’t face another day of black water and the road that leads to my favorite unburned fishing spots was still closed by the forest service so I had to find some new water to fish. I thought of all of the wonderful places I know to fish in this area but most of them were either burned or blocked by burn. A few days back an internet friend had heard my desperate concern for this area’s watershed and had dropped one of his favorite “secret” spots on me to help me fill fishing days if the river was marred by fire runoff. So that was where I headed. It is amazing that here was a fairly large creek right under my very nose and I had neither explored it nor even heard of it as a fishing destination … … so yes there are still unfound and unspoiled waters out here. And thank you to my internet friend … … he knows who he is … … but then again I did give him a magical place even if he had to find it by his own perseverance and good luck … … and as to this stream all I will say is “head west young man head west”. I had no idea what to expect when I drove up on a clear crisp summer morning. The stream was pretty but flowing over a moss bed and running shallow so I thought maybe a few small fish might be available at best ... … but then I have never turned my nose up at small fish or for that matter at any fish I might be lucky enough to catch.
The first few holes passed with no noticeable trout life and my expectations began to waver … … when suddenly my dry disappeared in a swirl the size of a sink. I jumped so high in shock I wrapped line around myself like a mummy and never even began to get a hook set. I made myself stop for a minute after I had all of my flies and line gathered back into my trembling hand and stopped to let my racing heart slow down and to let that monster get back into feeding position. My next cast was text book perfect but nothing moved by way of a strike, same for the next five. I felt myself grow frustrated at my inept fishing abilities and that botched hook set, so my next cast splat down on the water with all of the grace of falling “june bug” when all **** broke loose… … without even realizing it I had line peeling off my reel to the accompaniment of sounds only an old hardy can make. My surprise didn’t last long as instinct once again took over and I found myself in a battle with a fish much larger than I had imagined would even “be” in these waters much less have hoped to “catch”. Eventually the small water left the rainbow with nowhere to run so I ended up with yet another fish picture opportunity.
And soon several more truly fantastic fish for this size water followed. Yet more fish pic opportunities so I tried to get a few variations of different fish pictures than my standard one hand, drooping fish and wrist shot.
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