Yellows, Oranges, Reds and Greens,
The colors strewn upon a painted scene.
This was the back drop for their stay,
Four anglers that came to play.
Three boats were brought for those that never showed,
They all were parked and their oars remained stowed.
Wilbur decided to spill from his top,
Friday till Sunday the flow would be non-stop.
The anglers awoke before the dawn,
Got washed and dressed for to the SoHo it was on.
Four anglers cast into a morning light mist,
Indicators dip as rod tips are lift.
Brought to hand were browns and bows,
Seven for Seven, one Angler put on a show.
Two anglers split just a little bit early,
Alabama and Tennessee kicked off at 3:30.
Steaks, Sweet Onion, Baked Potato too,
Helped cure the blues from a young man’s black shoe.
Next morning came and one had to go,
The three that were left decided to row.
They launched their boat below Wilbur’s great Spill,
And drifted new white water, a morning thrill.
A few brought to hand, several more missed,
Still a good morning in the shadow of Bee Cliff.
The three talked it over and to the lake it was decided,
Where great ideas and commonsense were evenly divided.
Not from the gravel but the grass bank,
One angler decided to launch, his truck nearly sank.
Thanks to an Isuzu and double up cord,
One anglers truck was pulled free, Thank the Lord.
The lake was gin clear, all things in view,
Colored leaves from the trees were on the bottom too.
They cast and they stripped, rigged up a deep nymphing contraption,
Caught a few bows, but never great action.
One angler caught his fish of the trip,
Which in his mind’s eye made it a hit.
The water was cold, These times were gold,
And now my story, is all told.
Here are a few shots from the weekend that was Fall Fling 09
A view from the back porch of the cabin.
Looking down on Watauga Lake.
A scene from the grill on Saturday night.
Brown caught at the Cul-De-Sac on the SoHo just before the river caught us.
Last fish of the trip (for me anyway) up on Wilbur Lake - 20.5 inch rainbow.
