Several Days on the River: >> and Some thoughts on associated philosophy

Years ago I took up backpacking as a means of maximizing the time I could spend on the river, due to the fact that I have to drive about a hundred miles, one way. Plus, it has its own charm about it. I grew up going on vacations with my parents where camping was what we did. We did not have money for motels and such. And for kids, camping is a real adventure. Not sure that it wasn’t also for mom and dad, because they continued camping trips long after most of us had left the nest, so it has to be something that is in the blood.

The important thing here is to realize that backpacking is just a way of putting the maximum amount of time fishing, not walking. When you have to drive 100 miles just to get to the river, things need to get put in perspective. Let’s get real, now. Who wants to just walk? That can be done anywhere. It should be obvious to anyone that a place this special should not be wasted on something so mundane. Granting the obvious, that walking is beneficial, and that I, of all people, could stand as much benefit as there is, I figure, though, that the reason I am here in the first place, will give me all that in the course of the day. It hasn’t failed me yet!

A very cautious, but hungry, brown trout had decided that fasting was over-rated, but it really should have reconsidered. I gave it a second chance. I will come back to see if the lesson took… . It is actually the reason that we let the little buggers go in the first place. What we hope for when we do that, is that the next guy that comes along is not as well-versed in the wiley ways of the trout as we ourselves are. That way, it is not likely that anyone else will come through and catch our trout. It may be unspoken, but that is probably what most of us think. Ok, it’s what I think.

Of course, with my typical foresight, we had not gotten far down the road before I began realizing that a few very desirable things would need to be picked up on our way to the mountains. Like some extra food, a tarp, fishing hats (which somehow were forgotten in the packing), snacks, drinks, you know…the necessities .

We had decided to go up to Burrells Ford and backpack in to a campsite approximately .6 miles from where we decided to leave the car. It did not take very long to get to a nice spot for our tent site, and we wasted no time in setting up. After all, our lines were dry, and the trout were calling. Still, it took some getting back in the swing of things before a considerate rainbow decided that we had suffered enough and consented to provide us with a taste of things to come. In return, we released it in accordance with the SC Marine and Wildlife Department’s request. We were in a stretch of the river that was not stocked, and this was good because most of the “meat” fishermen stayed close to those areas that did receive stocking.

Well, that lasted just long enough to make us hungry and tired, so we did what we needed to do for the next day. And we knew we would need a good tomorrow. We crashed early, not being able to get a camp fire going (a traditional ritual for the first night), because there was no dry wood. With there being not much else to do, the best way to take advantage of the situation was to, um, zzzzzz…. After a night that seemed entirely too long, it was time to get up and begin a new day…

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