The path to Eden

It seems too often we fish nowadays like we eat. We want our fishing served up fast food style, neatly packaged and in a hurry. But I had all evening and night. The wife was working, the granddaughter not due in town till tomorrow evening. I hit the river way upstream. Farther than I'd ever been before. It was low but still a bit off color from the recent rains. Right away I caught a small bass and then an even smaller crappie. I'm thinking okay, this is looking good. Then nothing. Nothing for an hour. If anything the water muddied up a bit more. I decided to head closer to home. I drove closer to home then I walked in to a long riffle that's an old friend. I'd probably been here 20 times this year already. Way across the river and downstream I could see the kids. Most of the time I come here I see them somewhere along this stretch of river. The number varies a bit but its usually two to four boys and a girl or two. The first few times I encountered these guys I was a bit apprehensive, after all it's me by myself meeting four teens out in the middle of nowhere. But for the most part they just ignore me. If we meet crossing a riffle we might nod or say hi but other than that we all just pretend the other isn't in "our" spot. One kid always has a seine and a couple more carry fishing rods. With bait fresh out of the river they are deadly on catfish. But I've always seen then release them. A couple times I've caught my line on lines they have broken off. Instead of lead weights they use old bolts and pieces of metal for weight. I've grown pretty fond of these kids that I don't know. After all they are outside living life instead of living thru facebook. Next year or at least the one after that they will all be out in the real world with jobs and car payments. But they will always have this glorious summer, spending all day every day wading and swimming and fishing. Making memories that will last a lifetime. Often Ill see them far off in the evening wading the river on their way home. The guys in swim trunks, the girls in shorts and bikini tops wading into the sunset looking like a scene out of a 1960's beach movie. I think they will have to be better adjusted adults with the memory of their perfect summer. I mean just how bad can a kid be that spends his entire day on the river? On this day they were all using a chute in a riffle as a giant slip and slide. I cut a wide circle around them so as not to intrude and fished the next hole. I caught a pretty nice sauger on a smoke metalflake grub and then switched to a square billed crankbait. I had a solid hit and landed a pretty channel cat. I went to unhook it and to my amazement it wasn't hooked at all. The crankbait was jammed straight up and down in it's mouth but no hooks were stuck in it. I hard a hard time getting the lure out it was jammed in so hard!
On the rivers far bank two bucks in velvet came out close to dark. One froze and watched me fish while the other completely disregarded me. I even caught and landed a couple smallmouth before they finally wandered back into the woods. After the deer left I noticed the the soft blue light of evening had settled on the river, painters light, and the only sound that of water over smooth stones. When I'm old I want to remember this. All of it. Every sound, the cold shock of the water when you first step in, the beauty of minnows scurrying away over moss covered stones. I rummaged around in my pack and found a carton of worms and settled on a rock to watch the coming night creep thru the trees. I wore that hour of sunlight, those fish, the colored clouds, like an old shirt the rest of the night, taking deep solace and comfort from it. Tap, tap, tap, a small catfish took the worm and fought in the determined circling way they have. Then another, then a slightly bigger one. By then full darkness had fallen. Down in the corner of the pack were two firestarters and a lighter. I wandered back up the bank to collect driftwood and ten minutes later had a small fire casting dancing shadows on the bankside trees. I began fishing again and a half hour later another small channel hit the worms. This one I killed and then gutted. I wrapped the fish in foil and placed it on a flat rock placed in the edge of the fire. I settled on a big log down by the river and had a fine supper under a lovely night sky with the moon slipping in and out of the clouds. I sat a long time just enjoying the rivers noise without fishing at all. Still soaking wet from wading I changed into dry clothes and began casting a lipless crankbait from the rockbar. After a bit I had a strong take and the drag sang before the fish was gone. About twenty minutes later a pretty 14 inch smallmouth hit and about a half hour later a decent channel hit the lure. And the rest of the night settled into this pattern. I'd set and watch the river and sky awhile then fish some, catching a few fish sometimes, sometimes not. Bone tired but contented I left for home and bed around dawn.