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10-23-2010, 10:21 PM
Join Date: Mar 2009
Location: Marietta GA
I cooked a quick dinner and spent the rest of the night sitting by the fire and listening to music while waiting on the full moon to rise from behind the mountain and light my night sky like a negative shadowed full daylight. I was listening to Jerry Jeff Walker and then his son Django Walker and thinking about their different musical styles yet I was struck by their hauntingly similar voices. And I spent some time listening to James McMurtry and the “Lights of Cheyenne” which deals with a relationship between a dad and his kids and thought about how different his story telling style was from the author, his dad Larry, yet once again they could both touch me with the words that they wrote. That struck a cord with me as I thought about Fathers and Sons, the relationship they have of always wanting to be different but yet in the end always being eerily similar in the core ways that count. I though of my grandfather and my father, my father and myself and even myself and my own two boys, as young men we fight so hard to set off on our own and carve our own personality into the world yet in the end we find that we have drifted right back into the shadows of the man our father was … deep down in our soul we want to mirror the good things we found in our own fathers soul. I pray that I have passed something of importance to my kids and that they found things in me that are worth them carrying forward into their own lives and into their own souls. I guess only time will tell now.
I woke to find another incredibly gorgeous crystal clear day, a mirror image of the day before. And of course I decided to go fishing. I headed out of my little valley and found another small stream that I had always wanted to fish making this the second day in a row I had fished streams I had never fished …which is in my opinion another of life’s great luxuries to have plenty of water that you haven’t explored yet. That thought always reminds me of Hank Jr’s song about women and things he has never had. Anyway this narrative is getting long … so for this day let’s just suffice to say scenery was found and admired, fish were located and caught, another small stream was added to my personal must do again list, bourbon was drank and cigars were smoked. And here is a small quick picture sample for your viewing pleasure.
And I know that some of you out there are saying to yourself will this ever end… doesn’t all this fishing and scenery ever get old… … well no actually it never does… … thank God.
But unfortunately all good things must eventually come to a close and soon enough I found myself lying in my tent contemplating my last full day of fishing in the mountains before I had to drive to the airport for the next day’s trip home. I felt a sinking sensation realizing my trip was coming to its conclusion but my spirits swiftly rebounded as I realized that the trip home was tomorrow and for today I had a full days fishing and yet another unexplored stream calling my name. I had wanted to try this stream for many years and I was hoping I had saved the best for last. I climbed in my big *** Ford F 150 and began the drive up the single track four wheel drive road that led to the creek. The road just kept getting smaller and smaller and rougher and rougher and even higher and higher. My spirits sank and I truly began to worry about getting stuck. I probably would have turned around and abandoned my search for the stream but I couldn’t find a place to turn this giant vehicle around if my life depended on it. So I just kept pushing on listening to that odd scrapping screeching noise like fingernails on a blackboard as branches dug their hooks into the paint of the truck trying not to think about what the rental car company was going to charge me for all of this damage. (it is amazing what a little rubbing compound used properly on an automobile paint job can do … … even 15 minutes before you turn a rental car in). I knew I was in trouble when I ran into a group of 10 ATV riders who said they had abandoned their planned ride to the same area due to beaver ponds and rough terrain… but since I am stubborn and physically unable to turn a truck around in tight spaces I just kept plowing ahead. And I am so thankful I did. Eventually I reached an open park and crossed a mountain stream that I was positive was the one I was looking for… alright I wasn’t positive at all but I had come all of this way and I was gonna fish no matter what … even if I had to fish in a drainage ditch. So I rigged my rod and started off up the trail. I hit this first hole of water and thought I was probably going to be okay.
And literally on my first cast this one came out to play I knew I was going to be okay.
And literally on my second cast his friend came out to play … … I didn’t care if I had to buy a whole new truck… I knew I was in the right place
The water was phenomenally beautiful both from a scenery standpoint and a “fishyness” quotient.
But the Rio Grande Cutts were so willing and so pretty that they upstaged even the scenery which is pretty dang hard to do.
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