March Madness 2-long TR

Finally decided to join Walt's mono-clave in Morganton N.C. although the
weather reports voted NO! Arrived Thursday p.m. looking for a short fish,
but found Jeff Miller lying on a couch moaning about a "troublesome bowel
problem." Think it was probably brought on an ACC game on the tube.
Greg--our lodge owner--furnished a new big set. Later Tom Brown produced a
fine beef Wellington (Wolfgang--Tom used packaged pie crust--neat idea!!)
Then we drank some expensive sounding wines--I immediately them as "Reds."

Friday, after venison sausage and greasy eggs (think greasy eggs are a clave
tradition). Tom and I fished a new creek suggested by a local. As it was
my first time out this season, it took my feet some time to get adjusted to
rock hopping and then remembered that I was supposed to watch my fly. (Yes,
Willie, I know presentation is important.) Water was low, full of sticks,
and shows real signs of eutrophication; silt from recent flood covering
bottom and a green moss-like algae clogging up my hook. I tried a #16 BWO
that Jeff recommended and found it too small for my ancient eyes. With a
few black caddis around, but no rises, I put on my #14 yellow humpy and felt
happy to dig two ten-inch rainbow out of a pool. So much for opening day.

Saturday, had business in Ashville in a.m. so stopped at Curtis Creek in
p.m. This is a delayed harvest stream--stocked by state and all C&R. I
think the stocking truck had passed thought a few days ago as I found pools
full of 6-8 inch rainbow searching for their food pellets--size #16 Royal
Wolf. Good practice for setting hook and placing fly; then moved on down to
faster water and dug out two colorful 12-inch browns--big for NC!! Probably
holdovers!! They were tucked under the bank (Mike fishing banks.) I
stood across stream (20 feet) and cast up-stream along bank--tried to high
stick and feed line as my fly went downstream, but got a very short natural
float. NEED HELP!!

Early spring in mountains--saw 20 wild turkeys crossing field with an
occasional display. That evening Walt grilled for our crowd, plus visiting
20 or so from Fly-South.com. Drinking was light all weekend, but someone
reported very late that an Indian was heard howling about white men and
threatening to debauch and pillage their women.

Sunday, I awoke with my head pounding like the embryonic pulse of the womb,
but Jeff, Walt and Opie wanted to go rock climbing so I trudged along. They
fished a fast rising chasm of rocks and boulders with an occasional dollop
of water spotted. Dipping their flies, they declared that this was Brookie
heaven, but with a cold wind blowing the fish declined to join us in
worship. Too many fisherman and no fish so I decided to hike
downstream--used "warm-rump-technique" to get down to the stream from road
high above. You sit down and try to catch a tree occasionally to break your
slide. Nice pools, pretty stream, but no hungry fish, so returned to
vehicles only to find my three superstars of fishing had also withdrawn.

With a tiring five hour drive ahead, I decided the food and fellowship were
fine, but next year my opening weekend will be in April.

Joe