The Next Day: >> When we go trout hunting…

Well, another benefit of backpacking in is the luxury of sleeping late (that is, after daybreak), eating an unhurried breakfast, then heading upstream to see what the Fish gods had in store for us. We were still pretty rusty and out of practice, so the whole day was basically a time of renewing our acquaintance with our friend, the river. It is more work than many realize…the careful working upstream, changing flies, reassessing strategic lies of the trout in order to make the briefest of connections that mean the most direct of confrontations for both parties involved, man and trout. The decisions made here are literally, life and death. Very sobering, indeed…

Graham is taking a break on the Chattooga River admiring a native brookie that had fallen for a black Letort Cricket. It, too, was released unharmed, a bit wiser for the experience. This picture was taken early the next morning, and we considered the brookie a special gift (they are pretty rare nowadays).

His hat said it all, “Shut up and FISH “.

Heck, after a morning of crawling over rocks a man tends to get a bit sweaty, and overheated, and Dad needs to take a break. And it probably wouldn’t hurt for the trout to get a break also… …. Ooooh, yeaaahhh! Man, that sure does work for me.

Ok, so the Fish gods needed a break, too. But what they didn’t know, was what we had in our packs, and just how fast those contents were depleting. We really wanted to stay through Thursday, and today was only Tuesday. It looked as though we were going to have to succumb to the most basic of human needs… hunger.

At least, with a day as pretty as today was, the available fuel for a decent campfire was in much better condition than it was yesterday. And, so…

It was worth the extra trouble to go out and gather enough material to get a couple of hours worth of staring into that most basic, primitive, desires of men out alone in the woods—a campfire. I don’t know what it is, exactly. You don’t really think about anything in particular, unless it happens to be what’s in store for the next day, but there is just plain nothing else that can compare to a good old campfire. It makes you feel very introverted, just thinking about, well, things…or even nothing at all.

So, the next day was going to be THE day. Food looked like it was getting lower than was comfortable and we sure had no intention of starving to death. And so the decision was made to give in and actually keep a few fish for a meal or two. That is, assuming we would catch something worth keeping. But. Dad thought he had something up his sleeve…Would we, or wouldn’t we….

Click the fly to end the suspense…