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Ev'ry once in awhile, I git a hankerin' to write up memoirs of a perticklerly good story regardin' somethin' int'restin' or ennertainin' that has happened to Meaux an' me. It gener'ly involves fishin' somewhere or t'other, be it the 'Hooch, Crooked River, The Okefenokee, or one of the inumerable bayous to be found along the Gu'f coasts of Louisiana, Miss'ippi, an' Alabamastan.

I hope enny readers that come across this little un-official blog enjoy a-readin' it jes' as much as I have enjoyed "talkin' with mah fingers."

-Swamp Angel

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Crossin' to th' Other Side (Part II)

Posted 02-13-11 at 04:36 PM by Swamp Angel
Updated 02-15-11 at 08:56 PM by Swamp Angel
PART II


Sorry 'bout the interruption. I am a tad bit verbose, an' there is a limit of ten-thousand characters per blog posting. (I reckon that this should be a hint, but I refuse to accept it.)
So let's continue:

I reckon that we must’ve spent prolly forty-five minutes or so there at that rock pile. There weren’t a whole lot of action, but ever’ once in awhile a fish would nudge or nibble at our nymphs and wooley boogers jes’ to let us know that they was down there, and that they knew that we was up here. I seen mah bobbe- (‘scuse me) strike indicator go under a couple times, as well as move strangely ag’in the current, so I knowed fer certain that it weren’t mah ‘magination nor Tider’s freely shared Woodford Reserve. But fer me, it was a lot like bream fishin’. I jes’ weren’t no good at a-settin’ the hook an’ bringin’ one to hand usin' a bobb- ('scuse me) strike indicator.

Tider was havin’ a little better luck with opportunities, but was also havin’ some difficulty in gittin’ ‘em hooked an’ brought to hand. There was one in partic’lar that I’d’ve thought was a real worthy catch fer the day. She ‘peared to be a goodly sized brown, an’ ‘peared to be on the hook as well, ‘til she showed us her white belly and shook the hook and swam off fer deeper waters. Oh, my! But wouldn’t she have been a good one to show off in a pitcher or two?!

Tider decided to switch tactics, and as he was a reloadin’ with a dif’rent set-up, he directed me to take off the bobbe- (‘scuse me ag’in) strike indicator, an’ add a piece of split shot ‘bout a foot above mah wooley booger, then to cast t'wards the ripples a'hind the rocks an' jes' let her run with the current, makin' sure to mend the line so as to reduce the drag caused by the fly line bein' dragged by the surface tension on the water. Them was a lot of instruction to remember all at one time, so I just made a cast an' let the whole shebang jes' drift t'wards the back of the boat while I made tiny little pulls on mah line (sorta like strippin' line a fingerful at a time) like 'Tider was a-teachin' me. All of a sudden, mah line weren't comin' in as easy as it had been. It kinda got this funny feel to it like somebody was a-tuggin' and a-releasing' it, an' a-tuggin' an' a-releasing' it. An' the end of mah fly pole was doin' a little wiggledy-dance thing that had me a bit perplexed 'til it slowly dawned on me that - Hey! I done got me a fish on the end of this line! Whoooooooo-eeeey! An' even if'n it ain't a great big un, she's a fish never-the-less, an' she's the first one ever I caught on a fly pole like this!

Why, I got so 'cited that Tider had to remind me to wet mah hands afore I handled her. ("Wet mah hands!" I snorted to mahse'f, "I durn near wet mah britches!") But I got her to hand, and started to reach fer the camera in the yaller dry-sack, 'til I realized that there weren't no way on earth that I was gonna be able to hold onto her an' git the cam'ra outta the sack to git a pitcher. She was jes' too slick fer me to keep a-hold of, an' she helped herse'f back to the water outta mah hand afore I even realized that she was gone! -Oh well. So much fer the idear of gittin' a pitcher of mah first fish on a fly line an' framin' it with the fly that caught her. That plan went out the window, and on the next cast, the wooley booger that caught her became permanently attached to a submerged tree limb. I reckon that fly won't be a-gittin framed neither. Least ways, not by me. Mebbe some fish family has done added it to their art-deco collection in their house.

We continued a-fishin' this area fer a bit longer, then moved on down to the rocks in the big bend afore Medlock Bridge. The water there is tricky, and mighty deceitful. It's hard to git a reading' on the depth, on the speed of the current, and even on which way the current is a-flowin' there. Over the rocks, it's purty easy to ascertain, but in the turns, an' ag'in the banks, it 'pears to be reversin' direction and a-comin' where it should be goin'! It made fer some int'restin' fishin' there, an' resulted in a couple strikes but no hook-ups.

Time was a-drawin' to a close fer our day on the river, for Tider had to git back 'cross the state line to our beloved neighbor state of AlaBama an' git set up fer a presentation of "durable medical 'quipment" (I believe he called it). He's much more professional than me, an' seems to be quite the gentleman fly fisherman as well. He seems to be the epito-. . . epi-. . .e-. . . . . . Let's jes' say that he is a model sportsman an' fly fisherman, an' I hope to be able to spend time on a river fly fishin' with him ag'in.

Many of y'all on NGTO done give me wonderful help an' aid as I find mahse'f coming into this sport of fly fishin', an' fer all that I will be eternally indebted to you. The year 2011 is still a youth in the annals of time, and there is a spring warm-up ahead of us that should produce some wonderful morning's, afternoons, and ev'nin's of fly fishin' on the 'Hooch, as well as the other trout waters of our fahn state of Georgia. I look forward to meetin' a bunch of y'all as this year progresses, and afore the arrival of the dreaded yaller-tube hatch on the 'Hooch occurs in mid-to-late May!

Most of the time that I spend on the 'Hooch will be in mah Gheenoe with mah wife, Meaux. However, if'n anybody should spot me runnin' solo in the 'Hoochee Queen an' feel like you might want to catch a ride up to McGinnis Ferry or down to Medlock Bridge, or somewhere in betwixt, jes' chuck a rock at me an' holler, an' I'll be glad to pull over an' have you as a partner fer the day.

-Swampy
13 February 2011
Posted in Fish Stories
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2fly's Avatar
That's what I'm talking about Swampy! Great first/second blog. Totally enjoyed the read.
Posted 02-14-11 at 12:43 PM by 2fly 2fly is offline
 

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