Post by Varmit on Oct 7, 2008 9:13:08 GMT -5
My plan had been to finish with my required penance to the god of Local Government early on Friday and head west. With the hour time difference, I could get to the campground in time to get at least two or three hours fishing in before dark. I think my luck assessed my Karma and determined that an early departure was not in my cards. So, at roughly six thirty I pull in to the appointed local with only one member of our esteemed brotherhood lingering. The rest (including Jermz, with whom I was scheduled to ride with), were somewhere casting over water that was surely perfect. Funny, but they could have been fishing in a galvanized wash tub in the parking lot of a Walmart in Cookeville, and my mind would still be full of visions of the huge fish that I would never catch because I was late and missed out.
As darkness settled in and campfires flickered, the usual suspects started filtering in. And as always…we picked up the conversations as if we had just seen each other yesterday. The night settled in with great food and drink, an assessment of the days fishing, and the optimistic visions of what things would be like in the morning. And of course, the guitar. That most blessed of string instruments that conveyed such a myriad of emotions and amazing stories through song. Deep soul stirring lines like, “cut off part of my ear” which can only reach that emotional impact if it is properly filtered through the thick glass and caramel colored beverage and repeated.
Then it was Saturday.
I awoke, cold, and feeling as if my head had been stuffed into a jelly jar. Jermz and I made the full accessment of the day, and headed out to find the mother load. Finding it wasn’t very hard, but finding what would glean the mother load was something different altogether (I refer you to a post by T-Dub where he properly describes the “Rule of 17’s).
We found fish and found what they wanted which is just about all you can ask for.
Now, let me set the record straight. I am not now, nor have I ever been, an animal hater (with the exception of cats). But there is nothing short of having a root canal administered by a drunk orangutan that is worse than trying to fish a good run while dodging drift boats, canoes, one man pontoons, packs of dogs, and war ravaged hogs who have determined you are a haven of refuge. I have read that only Humans, primates, dolphins and pigs are the smartest creatures on the planet. Having said that, there was a moment on the river Saturday when two of the four had a meeting of the minds (insert snide comment here).
Back to the fire. More great food and drink. Listening to the Vols eek one out. And enough one liners laden with pig references to fill a Rodney Dangerfield routine. Of course once again there was music. Red neck rap songs…and late in the evening…after everyone else in the campground had snuggled themselves in bed…and the gentle gurgle of the water began settling down…David Allan Coe began a rather off color concert, joined by a highly inebriated “lady” who, it seemed, had been the victim of some type of military experiment involving acid and a tilt-a-whirl.
Sunday.
On the river, being met by a flock of wild turkeys (insert snide comment here), and some really nice fish once the rule of 17’s took effect. In honor of the Sabbath, I took time to thank God for where I was, what I was doing, and for the friends who made it all mesh perfectly.
Good to see ya’ll again.
~Marc~
As darkness settled in and campfires flickered, the usual suspects started filtering in. And as always…we picked up the conversations as if we had just seen each other yesterday. The night settled in with great food and drink, an assessment of the days fishing, and the optimistic visions of what things would be like in the morning. And of course, the guitar. That most blessed of string instruments that conveyed such a myriad of emotions and amazing stories through song. Deep soul stirring lines like, “cut off part of my ear” which can only reach that emotional impact if it is properly filtered through the thick glass and caramel colored beverage and repeated.
Then it was Saturday.
I awoke, cold, and feeling as if my head had been stuffed into a jelly jar. Jermz and I made the full accessment of the day, and headed out to find the mother load. Finding it wasn’t very hard, but finding what would glean the mother load was something different altogether (I refer you to a post by T-Dub where he properly describes the “Rule of 17’s).
We found fish and found what they wanted which is just about all you can ask for.
Now, let me set the record straight. I am not now, nor have I ever been, an animal hater (with the exception of cats). But there is nothing short of having a root canal administered by a drunk orangutan that is worse than trying to fish a good run while dodging drift boats, canoes, one man pontoons, packs of dogs, and war ravaged hogs who have determined you are a haven of refuge. I have read that only Humans, primates, dolphins and pigs are the smartest creatures on the planet. Having said that, there was a moment on the river Saturday when two of the four had a meeting of the minds (insert snide comment here).
Back to the fire. More great food and drink. Listening to the Vols eek one out. And enough one liners laden with pig references to fill a Rodney Dangerfield routine. Of course once again there was music. Red neck rap songs…and late in the evening…after everyone else in the campground had snuggled themselves in bed…and the gentle gurgle of the water began settling down…David Allan Coe began a rather off color concert, joined by a highly inebriated “lady” who, it seemed, had been the victim of some type of military experiment involving acid and a tilt-a-whirl.
Sunday.
On the river, being met by a flock of wild turkeys (insert snide comment here), and some really nice fish once the rule of 17’s took effect. In honor of the Sabbath, I took time to thank God for where I was, what I was doing, and for the friends who made it all mesh perfectly.
Good to see ya’ll again.
~Marc~
;D ...........................( old guys are laughing now) 
....( the younger guys are scratching their heads and wondering what in tha crap is T-Dub talkin bout ?) 
...its a cool thing to be drifing on a river into twilight with the chill in the air and stars over head...all the while in anticipation of some monster gator brown was going to crash TW's pattern he had trolling out there in the ink...btw did you know that fish the best fish attractant is a ringing cell phone?
