O Brookie! My Brookie!

No, I didn't just watch Dead Poets Society or read Walt Whitman's poem...but I did go fishing today...surprise!  Brookie!  My Brookie!  Brook Trout are really beautiful fish...to me. I have had the pleasure of catching them in Colorado. 

Colorado Brookie.  Love the colors, white tipped fins, and the spots...WOW!

During Miki's stay here at Bunny's, she continues to meet fascinating people.  One of the latest is Ken, an old friend that started out working with Bunny in the early days of N.O.C. (Nantahala Outdoor Center), the place we learned to whitewater canoe.  The Lower Nanny, short for Lower Nantahala, is where the majority of whitewater paddling, both kayak and canoe, takes place.  But higher up on the same river is the Upper Nanny, where crazy psychotic paddlers tread.  Normally it is a calm and scenic mountain stream, but on occasion water is added for one reason or another and the thrill seeking kayakers head upstream to paddle narrow boulder filled stretches of water and propel themselves over waterfalls.  It is during that serene water level time that fishing is awesome!  These waters attract everyone from me (!) to the best of them.  Ken not only has a raft guide business on the Nanny, but also has a fly fishing guide service.  Miki knows Ken now, so that means I know Ken now.  Is the picture coming into focus now?  We stopped by Ken's business for my formal introduction and after a nice visit, we left with some of the local trout favorites on our way to the Upper Nann y.

After a short lunch of potato chips, cheese and crackers, and Almond Joys, this angler was raring to meet the local trout.  I was not sure if I would pull out a brown, rainbow, or even a cutthroat.  But it seems as though this turf belongs to the brookies.  The four I retrieved, were surprisingly big to me, after the ones I caught in Colorado...not that Colorado doesn't have some big ones, they just haven't been on the end of my line yet!

Simplified Fly Fishing 101:
Step 1...Put fly in water.

Step 2...Put fish that caught fly in water in net.

Step 3...Retrieve fly from fish and return fish to water.  Repeat steps 1 and 2!
Can't really see the white tipped fins held close to his body, as I am sure he is
scared $#itless!

I can hardly sit still for minutes at a time in one place, but I can stand in nearly ice cold water for hours in a trance, casting millions of times in the same square yard of liquid love, waiting for that tug on the end of the line.  I don't get it, but I love it, and I am addicted.  No rehab for this addiction, just another day on the water and that day is tomorrow!

There does come a time, even for the fish junkie, to call it quits.  We headed home as feeling began to creep back into my fingers and toes.  Home is Dogwood Cove Cabin, owned by our friends Janet and John.  Janet was one of our whitewater paddling instructors, along with Bunny, when we began that adventure.  She is also a school teacher...birds of a feather...

Dogwood Cove Cabin.  Janet lives high above on the same property.

With continued circulation efforts by my body, all feeling returned to my extremities, enough so that we walked the dogs nearby, to get their circulation going after snoozing the midday away.  This was followed by a nice dinner at Janet's, with bunny's sister Lynn and another new acquaintance for Miki (and me), through Bunny, Drew.

Well, my Brookies are not "Fallen cold and dead," unlike the poor captain in the poem, right? I know the audience of this blog is well read and feeling me right now.  "O CAPTAIN!  my Captain!  our fearful (fishing) trip is done."  Time for bed (this part is not part of the poem for those of you that are a bit rusty on Walt Whitman).


My Zen from the Road:  This is literally about the road.  One thing I love about some of the roads where we are, is that they are narrow and curvy as a hell.  As the road follows the stream next to it, to one side you have the mountain going straight up and the other you could almost put your foot in the water to check it's depth.  And a visual masterpiece occurs when the road unfolds in front of you far enough to see two or three curves ahead, as they slightly bank back and forth, with fall colored trees guarding the sides.  It's not just the fishing, it's the road to get there too.