TR-Fishing itons

This TR is a little late getting posted due to my usual tardiness.

The plan was to take my little brother, Moses, to the Blue Ridge to meet
some Roffians and fish the local trout streams. We set out from the
Knoxville area after Mo was released from work on Tuesday afternoon. The
traffic was light and only a short, but torrential, downpour slowed us as we
drove through the Smokies to Morganton. I had cleverly forgotten to bring
the directions to Optimistic Park (named by and for fishermen, obviously).
But not to fear, as we were purchasing our Tackle Losing Licenses at the
local Kmart, we inquired as to the location of said resort. The kindly clerk
replied, in her best Cackalacky drawl, "Y'know, somebody just asked me that
last week!". That was the only answer we received. She was nice enough and
she seemed pleased that she had been so helpful, so we supposed that we
could find the Park based on this newfound information.

As it turned out, we drove straight to the park, where we were greeted by
the proprietor, Greg, and ROFFians Wally and Op. There were a couple of
other guys there, Coe and Randy I think. The group seemed to be in good
spirits and vice versa. We were given the "official North Carolina greeting"
and the stuff wasn't bad. I think it could have used a little more kerosene
and fewer dirty socks in the recipe, but nevertheless, we were officially
welcomed to the old nawth state. After a few more imbibements and a some
extensive holding forth on a variety of subjects, we called it a day (or
early morning, to be precise).

Next morning, after having breakfast at a little diner that simultaneously
exists in three counties (neat place, good food, cheap), Op played guide and
ghillie to Mo and I on a stretch of Middle Lower Upper Creek. What a pretty
little stream! I don't think that anyone can brag about the fish caught that
day, but we had a great time and everyone caught a few fish. Despite any
reports or observances contrary, Mark Bowen is a good guy to be on the trail
and stream with. He was very patient and helpful, especially with Mo, who
was on his third FF adventure.

Returning to the lodge, we found that jeff and IJ had made an appearance and
were fishing on Wilson Creek, but would be back for supper. A quick survey
of the sky indicated that they might be back sooner due to the quantity and
quality of the donder und blitzen in the vicinity. This didn't stop Walt
from poachin...err, angling a few trout out of Greg's private stretch of
river in front of the lodge until the downpour chased us to shelter under a
bridge.When the rain let up, Walt said his goodbyes and we returned to the
lodge. IJ and Jeff soon returned, wet as dishrags. After a glass or three of
wine and IJ's daily Manhattan, we were off to town for Eye-talian food. I'll
let jeffie or IJ esplain the significance of parrot tattoos on waitresses,
but suffice to say we all enjoyed our evening.

Next day, jeffie and IJ guided Mo and I on a stream in Banner Elk. jeff and
I took the lower section of river whilst IJ and Mo stayed closer to the top.
It didn't take jeff long to start harvesting the pretty little brown trout
in this stream. Please see the pics on ABPF.( As a side note, my trusty
Nikon digital, veteran of years of service on stream, took these few
pictures of jeff's smiling countenance, and then quit, never to charge its
CCD again. Coincidence? Maybe, maybe) It took me much longer to get the hang
of things, but finally I joined in the success. I must have missed a dozen
fish and a couple of decent ones. A very enjoyable morning and lots of
memories.

Meanwhile, Mo and IJ were catching a few upstream of us. When we met them on
the road out, we heard their story about emergency midstream surgery.
Apparently, IJ summoned Moses from across the stream to assist him. When Mo
arrived, IJ says "Ah neb sub heb". No, that's not my attempt to capture that
sultry Southern dialect that Joe uses to woo tattooed service personnel. The
mumble-mouth was necessitated by the presence of a fully barbed fly embedded
in IJ's silver tongue! We won't go into just how the hook had come to be
lodged in Joe's oral appurtenance. That must only be told by IJ. The
accounts of the story at this point get a little confused, but after several
unsuccessful attempts by the good surgeon to cut said hook with fingernail
clippers, it was decided that some other approach was required. Mo calmly
suggests that he "just pull that thang right outta there! Shouldn't hurt but
a little." IJ eyes Mo with a little trepidation and then asks "Ib it wab
your tongue, wub yub pub ib oub?" To which Mo applies in the affirmative. I
don't know where he learned to lie like that! Apparently, one small jerk and
the fly came clear with only a small bit of Joe's appendage appended. Mo did
tell me later that "that Joe is a tough old bird! All he did was spit a
couple of times and we went back to fishing." BTW Joe, Mo says he needs your
address to send the invoice for the surgery, pre-surgery consultation,
follow up visits (he says he asked you if you were allright a couple of
times) and post-operative sedation (beer). It's lucky for you that you won't
get billed for anesthesia!

We said our goodbyes at the trailhead as Mo and I had to head back to TN. A
great time spent with good folks in the Blue Ridge. Many thanks to Greg,
Walt, Op, jeff, and IJ for the camaraderie!

I'm sorry that I missed Tom Brown. Apparently, Tom had an horrific accident
that left him mangled from the second joint of his left big toe all the way
down to the end of said toe. BSEG I hope that you recover soon, Tom.

I also missed our fitons. Wayno arrived as Mo and I had already departed for
points west. I hope to see you sometime soon, counselor.

Danl