an honest Snowbird trip report

Had a great time in the Snowbird area. Don't you know I never even fished
the Snowbird even though I camped along side it? I did fish the Santeetlah,
the Sassafras and the Hazel.

I fished the Santeetlah with Jeff Miller, the Sassafras and Hazel with
Wolfgang and Jeff. I didn't fish with Bob Patton and that won't happen
again.

The Santeetlah was a great creek and I would like to fish it again. It has
fairly easy access when you consider that all you have to do is park - get
out of your vehicle - and fall down a great, steep mountain side into the
stream. The Sassafras was an exceptional creek. We fished it we three guys,
all taking turns. It was a great walk about two miles or so???? up the
Snowbird, then a walk up the Sassafras. I think two people could fish the
whole of Sassafras from it's mouth at the Snowbird to the falls if they
started early and fished fast. It's not hard to fish a stream fast with
those wild mountain trout and the Sassafras had some of the most beautiful
Brookies I have ever seen.

Well, the weather was not the greatest but I had no complaints and when Jeff
Miller asked about the Hazel, whether or not I wanted to fish it, I had to
tell him that I had never fished it and that Hazel was highly (by my good
friend Bob) recommended.

So the next day Jeff fired up his boat and across the lake we went.
Wolfgang, Jeff an I.

One of the prettiest places in the Smokies. We didn't hardly see any other
people, only one or two hikers and no other fishermen with a likewise
diminishing of the usual streamside litter.

There was, a youth group camping and there were twenty or thirty kids...late
teens, hiking up the trail and strung out over several miles. At one point
there was this, well, healthy young girl hiking up a small grade rather bent
and angled forward under the load of her backpack. I was uphill and from her
and she was a stout and well built maiden fair of hair and skin.

Her breeding was well apparent, her genes running true and if my uncle were
alive her he would have loved to have her DNA spliced with one of his
Guernsey cows.

The kind with lots of white frothy cream as was the color of her skin.

A sleeveless sweater with a low cut circle neck over two absolutely
humongous, firm and white bra trimmed, bulging boobs. Two casabas on legs
topped by blonde Nordic hair.

I immediately realized that I had not the verbal skills to arrange, nor the
subtle skills needed to unobtrusively take a picture so forthwith and
posthaste I flipped my sunglasses down. I did not turn my neck nor alter my
actions that I might not appear any more of a dirty old man than I am. I
thought I did very well.

Now this girl was no more pretty nor well developed...well, maybe two years
in the mammaries, than some of my own daughters friends but I can't look at
'them.' I say that honestly for that's the kind of guy I am.

Strange isn't it. The truth, may not and probably will not set you free, at
least for me.

You see, women are indeed like wine. Lord the Ripple and Boone's Farm one
drinks in his youth and I must confess I have partaken of MD 20-20. Now, it
is the same wine. The very same wine and yet, now that we are patient enough
and wise enough and gentle enough to hold and caress and lovingly sip. . .
we cannot. It is not the lines nor sags, the aches or the pains but this
about aging that is damnable. It is this that I hate and the pain in my
loins is no less great than in the days of my youth and I was 'not' told
what it means to be a man. To look but not touch and in some cases not to
look at all.

Honestly. So, I ogled this young girl because in this particular situation
it was a gift from whatever power might be - to let me see so little of so
much and imagine. And in like manner I do not and will not look at any other
girls.

I mean imagine, just imagine that something, anything happened and I was
asked even in passing, a question concerning what had transpired with some
young lady in my daughter's circle of friends. 'I' can honestly say, "I
never even looked at her."

If I were to say, "No, but I really, really wanted to". . . do you think the
truth would set me free?

My regards to the family,


john

On Thu, 21 Oct 2004 13:18:58 GMT, "asadi...."
wrote:


Had a great time in the Snowbird area. Don't you know I never even fished
the Snowbird even though I camped along side it? I did fish the Santeetlah,
the Sassafras and the Hazel.

I fished the Santeetlah with Jeff Miller, the Sassafras and Hazel with
Wolfgang and Jeff. I didn't fish with Bob Patton and that won't happen
again.

The Santeetlah was a great creek and I would like to fish it again. It has
fairly easy access when you consider that all you have to do is park - get
out of your vehicle - and fall down a great, steep mountain side into the
stream. The Sassafras was an exceptional creek. We fished it we three guys,
all taking turns. It was a great walk about two miles or so???? up the
Snowbird, then a walk up the Sassafras. I think two people could fish the
whole of Sassafras from it's mouth at the Snowbird to the falls if they
started early and fished fast. It's not hard to fish a stream fast with
those wild mountain trout and the Sassafras had some of the most beautiful
Brookies I have ever seen.

Well, the weather was not the greatest but I had no complaints and when Jeff
Miller asked about the Hazel, whether or not I wanted to fish it, I had to
tell him that I had never fished it and that Hazel was highly (by my good
friend Bob) recommended.

So the next day Jeff fired up his boat and across the lake we went.
Wolfgang, Jeff an I.

One of the prettiest places in the Smokies. We didn't hardly see any other
people, only one or two hikers and no other fishermen with a likewise
diminishing of the usual streamside litter.

There was, a youth group camping and there were twenty or thirty kids...late
teens, hiking up the trail and strung out over several miles. At one point
there was this, well, healthy young girl hiking up a small grade rather bent
and angled forward under the load of her backpack. I was uphill and from her
and she was a stout and well built maiden fair of hair and skin.

Her breeding was well apparent, her genes running true and if my uncle were
alive her he would have loved to have her DNA spliced with one of his
Guernsey cows.

The kind with lots of white frothy cream as was the color of her skin.

A sleeveless sweater with a low cut circle neck over two absolutely
humongous, firm and white bra trimmed, bulging boobs. Two casabas on legs
topped by blonde Nordic hair.

I immediately realized that I had not the verbal skills to arrange, nor the
subtle skills needed to unobtrusively take a picture so forthwith and
posthaste I flipped my sunglasses down. I did not turn my neck nor alter my
actions that I might not appear any more of a dirty old man than I am. I
thought I did very well.

Now this girl was no more pretty nor well developed...well, maybe two years
in the mammaries, than some of my own daughters friends but I can't look at
'them.' I say that honestly for that's the kind of guy I am.

Strange isn't it. The truth, may not and probably will not set you free, at
least for me.

You see, women are indeed like wine. Lord the Ripple and Boone's Farm one
drinks in his youth and I must confess I have partaken of MD 20-20. Now, it
is the same wine. The very same wine and yet, now that we are patient enough
and wise enough and gentle enough to hold and caress and lovingly sip. . .
we cannot. It is not the lines nor sags, the aches or the pains but this
about aging that is damnable. It is this that I hate and the pain in my
loins is no less great than in the days of my youth and I was 'not' told
what it means to be a man. To look but not touch and in some cases not to
look at all.

Honestly. So, I ogled this young girl because in this particular situation
it was a gift from whatever power might be - to let me see so little of so
much and imagine. And in like manner I do not and will not look at any other
girls.

I mean imagine, just imagine that something, anything happened and I was
asked even in passing, a question concerning what had transpired with some
young lady in my daughter's circle of friends. 'I' can honestly say, "I
never even looked at her."

If I were to say, "No, but I really, really wanted to". . . do you think the
truth would set me free?

My regards to the family,


john



So the fishing was pretty good, eh?

g.c.

On Thu, 21 Oct 2004 13:18:58 GMT, "asadi...."
wrote:


Had a great time in the Snowbird area. Don't you know I never even fished
the Snowbird even though I camped along side it? I did fish the Santeetlah,
the Sassafras and the Hazel.

I fished the Santeetlah with Jeff Miller, the Sassafras and Hazel with
Wolfgang and Jeff. I didn't fish with Bob Patton and that won't happen
again.

The Santeetlah was a great creek and I would like to fish it again. It has
fairly easy access when you consider that all you have to do is park - get
out of your vehicle - and fall down a great, steep mountain side into the
stream. The Sassafras was an exceptional creek. We fished it we three guys,
all taking turns. It was a great walk about two miles or so???? up the
Snowbird, then a walk up the Sassafras. I think two people could fish the
whole of Sassafras from it's mouth at the Snowbird to the falls if they
started early and fished fast. It's not hard to fish a stream fast with
those wild mountain trout and the Sassafras had some of the most beautiful
Brookies I have ever seen.

Well, the weather was not the greatest but I had no complaints and when Jeff
Miller asked about the Hazel, whether or not I wanted to fish it, I had to
tell him that I had never fished it and that Hazel was highly (by my good
friend Bob) recommended.

So the next day Jeff fired up his boat and across the lake we went.
Wolfgang, Jeff an I.

One of the prettiest places in the Smokies. We didn't hardly see any other
people, only one or two hikers and no other fishermen with a likewise
diminishing of the usual streamside litter.

There was, a youth group camping and there were twenty or thirty kids...late
teens, hiking up the trail and strung out over several miles. At one point
there was this, well, healthy young girl hiking up a small grade rather bent
and angled forward under the load of her backpack. I was uphill and from her
and she was a stout and well built maiden fair of hair and skin.

Her breeding was well apparent, her genes running true and if my uncle were
alive her he would have loved to have her DNA spliced with one of his
Guernsey cows.

The kind with lots of white frothy cream as was the color of her skin.

A sleeveless sweater with a low cut circle neck over two absolutely
humongous, firm and white bra trimmed, bulging boobs. Two casabas on legs
topped by blonde Nordic hair.

I immediately realized that I had not the verbal skills to arrange, nor the
subtle skills needed to unobtrusively take a picture so forthwith and
posthaste I flipped my sunglasses down. I did not turn my neck nor alter my
actions that I might not appear any more of a dirty old man than I am. I
thought I did very well.

Now this girl was no more pretty nor well developed...well, maybe two years
in the mammaries, than some of my own daughters friends but I can't look at
'them.' I say that honestly for that's the kind of guy I am.

Strange isn't it. The truth, may not and probably will not set you free, at
least for me.

You see, women are indeed like wine. Lord the Ripple and Boone's Farm one
drinks in his youth and I must confess I have partaken of MD 20-20. Now, it
is the same wine. The very same wine and yet, now that we are patient enough
and wise enough and gentle enough to hold and caress and lovingly sip. . .
we cannot. It is not the lines nor sags, the aches or the pains but this
about aging that is damnable. It is this that I hate and the pain in my
loins is no less great than in the days of my youth and I was 'not' told
what it means to be a man. To look but not touch and in some cases not to
look at all.

Honestly. So, I ogled this young girl because in this particular situation
it was a gift from whatever power might be - to let me see so little of so
much and imagine. And in like manner I do not and will not look at any other
girls.

I mean imagine, just imagine that something, anything happened and I was
asked even in passing, a question concerning what had transpired with some
young lady in my daughter's circle of friends. 'I' can honestly say, "I
never even looked at her."

If I were to say, "No, but I really, really wanted to". . . do you think the
truth would set me free?

My regards to the family,


john



So the fishing was pretty good, eh?

g.c.

....felt like a guide spotting trout in New Zealand.....

....felt like a guide spotting trout in New Zealand.....

On 10/21/04 9:31 AM, in article
et, "asadi...."
wrote:

...felt like a guide spotting trout in New Zealand.....

And this is one of those cases where, no matter how well the guide spots for
you, if your presentation isn't juuuuuust right, you're gonna spook 'em.

B

Thanks for the report John! Let me know if you head up this way for
Steelhead this fall.

On 10/21/04 9:31 AM, in article
et, "asadi...."
wrote:

...felt like a guide spotting trout in New Zealand.....

And this is one of those cases where, no matter how well the guide spots for
you, if your presentation isn't juuuuuust right, you're gonna spook 'em.

B

Thanks for the report John! Let me know if you head up this way for
Steelhead this fall.

asadi.... wrote:
Had a great time in the Snowbird area. Don't you know I never even
fished the Snowbird even though I camped along side it? I did fish
the Santeetlah, the Sassafras and the Hazel.

John, I haven't squirmed like that since I read about snake's trip to
WV.

Oh GOD! I'm a prude!
--
TL,
Tim
------------------------
http://css.sbcma.com/timj

asadi.... wrote:
Had a great time in the Snowbird area. Don't you know I never even
fished the Snowbird even though I camped along side it? I did fish
the Santeetlah, the Sassafras and the Hazel.

John, I haven't squirmed like that since I read about snake's trip to
WV.

Oh GOD! I'm a prude!
--
TL,
Tim
------------------------
http://css.sbcma.com/timj

"asadi...." wrote in message
nk.net...

Had a great time in the Snowbird area. Don't you know I never even fished
the Snowbird even though I camped along side it? I did fish the
Santeetlah,
the Sassafras and the Hazel.

//great story snipped//

Beautiful, beautiful place. Pitched my tent beside the creek and on the
first night there must have been about a zillion stars just out of reach
above the tent. Even the rain the next morning didn't hurt.

My schedule was all screwed up, and I never really escaped from the office
back in St Louis. Although I fished for five days and spent two nights
camped beside Snowbird, I spent far too little time with the rest of the
ROFFians. Much my loss. I have a few photos, and as soon as I get them
developed and scanned I'll post 'em. As before, it was a great opportunity
to meet some fine people. Great to meet you John, and I look forward to
fishing with you some time. And of course it was good to see Messrs Miller,
Siebenich, and Winter again.

Miller was courageous enough to bring his charming wife Rachel to Snowbird,
and to invite the clavesters to his cabin. Poor Rachel graciously put up
with all of us right out of the creeks, and with our fish stories. And
Wolfie brought Becky, who together with Wolfgang made a mean Indian meal
(that's Indian - saffron rice and chicken and lots of good fresh spices).

Jeff and I fished Hazel on Sunday (including a pleasant conversation with a
park ranger), then I spent two days chasing a couple of big rainbows on
Snowbird, then boulder-hopped farther up S-bird to catch a few small browns
and rainbows.

Friday I hiked to Sassafras. It's an athletic event with lots of
boulder-hopping, sort of like upper Santeetlah. Asadi, Wolfie, and Jeffie
had told me to fish the upper part of the stream, but I just couldn't walk
past any more fishy-looking water, so got into S-fras near its mouth and
fished upstream probably half a mile to a pretty big fall (15-20 feet high).
Then since I didn't know where the trail was, and it was late in the day,
returned back downstream to the Snowbird trail and the three miles back to
the car.

Recurring thought while alone on Sassafras: nobody knew where I was, or when
I would return, and it was a long way from anywhere. If I had broken a leg
or badly sprained an ankle it would have been a bit unpleasant. Once that
thought started ringing around in my skull it was hard to enjoy the fishing.
One more reason that I should have been more sociable.

BTW, never did find my Primus stove - what took it and where it went will
remain among the mysteries of life.

Bob