"Grinnin' like a mule eatin' saw briars."

Monday, August 30, 2010

Minute to Win It (A Condensed Version of Nearly Everything That Happened)



Bradley Fork, Smoky Mountains. A 45 minute drive for fine fishing. What keeps me away? This relative after-thought offers fine fishing and a quick chance for the slam ('bow, brown, brook).

Coming down 441, or Newfound Gap, two elderly women jumped out in front of us. I stopped and asked if they were OK, apparently not. Broke down since one A.M., and no one stopped for them. Who wouldn't pick up old ladies? Dropped them off at Smokemont, hoping my decency (really, I thought this) would bode well for fishing. Apparently it did.

Got to the river after 7AM, breath fogging for the first time in what seems like years, I was committed to dries all day; turning over large dries is hard enough on a 2wt, droppers be damned.

Bradley Fork is flat -- an oddity that only North Carolinian's are used to -- an easy hike-in or wade-up for any angler. Especially if you're from the Tennessee mountains. Our streams are so steep you'll skin your nose walking up 'em.

We caught tons of fish, nice sizes too.



I'm recovering for tomorrow. Seems like the fishing and hiking refractory periods are a smidgen longer than they used to be.

2 comments:

troutrageous1 said...

Nothing wrong with good karma. Looks like you scored some by helping those ladies.

James C. said...

I'd like to think so. I can't imagine anyone not stopping for them, they were little old blue hairs. But they are mountain women, so pistol packing and pissed wouldn't be out of the ordinary!