I had always built small cairns along streams as I moved (I kept a lot of fish when I was a kid), and then cut the "Y" out of a willow branch along the stream when I was done to string the fish. Having learned that this practice is frowned upon in the GSMNP, I keep a small stringer in the bottom of the pouch I clip to my belt. On Sunday I strung the fish and attached him to my belt, letting him hang far enough down that he dipped into the water everytime I waded into the stream and crouched a little. I wasn't very far from the truck, and I knew I'd be leaving soon, otherwise I would probably have pinned the stringer under a rock in some shallow. moving water and come back for it.
I cooked him on the grill on a sheet of tin foil with some lemon juice and pepper. He curled up within seconds and cooked through within three or four minutes. My daughter tried a little but wasn't too impressed, even after I meticulously peeled the meet of the backbone, removed the skin and poked through the flesh catching every little rib that tried to sneak its way onto her plate. All that for "I don't think I really like it, Daddy." Oh well, maybe she'll like it later. After all, she developed a real taste for venison this last fall, and she is already asking when I am going to bring a turkey home.
Life is hard. But it's a lot harder if you're stupid.