Get jonbryan.com via email!
Show tagged entries
Entries tagged as atlanta
baitshrimp bass bassfishing bream brittanyspaniel chainpickerel channelcatfish fishing floattrip florida georgia georgia.tifton gulfofmexico hee haw hunting ice storm jonbryan outdoors piggyboat quail quail hunting rainbowtrout smallmouthbass speckledtrout storms suwannee suwanneeriver weather winter storm woodcock woodcock hunting
Thursday, January 22. 2015
James Walton and I returned from our Saturday hunt near Thomaston and then, the following Monday, got real lucky, being tipped off and apparently being given permission to hunt quail in the soon to be, very exclusive, Chattahoochee Plantation Subdivision, just north of The Atlanta Country Club in Cobb County. Our luck was compounded because this spot was within a 7 minute, drive of both of our houses
Once across the Johnson Ferry Road Bridge over the slowly flowing, Chattahoochee River, during the last week of bird season in 1979, the first left turn was into the Chattahoochee Plantation Subdivision. The Plantation, just being developed, was outside of any municipal area, the roads were in, one custom home was being finished and lots were sold by appointment only.
James had been tipped off by a friendly real estate agent that he’d better hurry out to the Plantation and get some of the birds before the building project kicked into gear. We took this as permission to hunt there and late the next afternoon, Tuesday, found us meeting at the front gate and entering the spacious grounds.
A half-mile into the subdivision, out of sight from the main road, we stopped and let out my 2 Brittany’s. It was different hunting along paved streets, and soon Rooster was locked down on a hard point. Gus had, like a young dog, run off to explore the area. James and I walked in on the point and a dozen birds came whirring up, we banged, twice and two birds fell and were quickly retrieved by Rooster. Gus came charging up, alerted by the banging, as we marked the remaining birds down in some heavy brush ahead.
Rooster and James swung wide right, Gus and I to the left and I was moving along with my head down, an old trick I picked up in Arizona while looking for arrowheads and at the same time trying to avoid rattlers, I spotted, what had to be, the bill imprints of a woodcock and before I could alert James, whirr, tweep, tweep and up jumped one and I leveled him before he could level off. Gus ran over, again wouldn’t pick up the bird, so I fetched it. James yelled, “We’re changing your nickname from Beechnut” to “Woodcock!” Not 100 feet later this scene was repeated and I folded another timberdoodle as James yelled, “That settles it!”
As dark rushed in on us, being excited over my success, I promptly banged twice at a single quail, successfully putting holes in the overcast sky. We each picked up another quail and called it quits.
This was a good tip! Too bad we didn’t find out about it until almost too late. We agreed to meet here on Thursday afternoon, but when I went into work the next morning I was sent to Chicago to provide some remedial training for a couple of managers not making their numbers. Funny thing, 4 years later I went to work for one of them! This was the end of the 78/79 hunting season for me, but not the end of the woodcocks and me!
Posted by Jon Bryan in Hunting at 16:10 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)
Thursday, March 15. 2012
When we lived in Georgia, Lake Lanier was about 25 miles north of my home in Lost Forest, in Fulton County and offered some very good bass fishing. Sometimes I would take my 12 foot aluminum, boat and fish around the edges, always staying within electric motor range of the launch spot and other times I would go with a friend, Phil, who had a luxury, bass boat.
Phil, red headed with a temper to match, worked for me and in the fall helped me coach a Georgia Youth Football team, plus in college, had played middle linebacker for Auburn. He told me an interesting story about when he took his official visit to Alabama and met with the legendary coach, Bear Bryant. The Bear told him flat off, â€œSon, youâ€™re just too small to play for me!â€ Phil played at 200 pounds and was 6 foot tall. He went on to Auburn and played against Alabama 3 times, winning 2 of the games. Phil was a tough guy!
During a stretch of unusually warm weather early in March, this particular morning, the sun was just peeking over the horizon, when Phil and I pulled up to a launch ramp, near Cumming and we were first in line behind a couple of fat guys that were trying to manually launch an old fiberglass boat. We got out of the truck, started to load our gear into our boat, but couldnâ€™t keep our eyes off of those 2 guys trying to manhandle this old boat.
Walking over to them, I courteously asked the one nearest me, who was knee deep in the lake, if they needed any help and his reply, to say the least shocked me, â€œHell no, we donâ€™t need any â€œbeep-beepâ€ help and Iâ€™ll whip youâ€™re â€œbeepâ€ if you donâ€™t leave us aloneâ€, he must have taken me for easy pickinsâ€™!
Taking this as a threat, I advanced on my adversary, but with the speed of a Southeast Conference linebacker, Phil jumped between us and I knew that the fight was on. One look at Phil, red hair and red face, was all it took for Junior Samples, of Hee Haw fame, â€˜ole BR-549, to back up and mumble an apology. Quickly saying, â€œWeâ€™ll get out of your way and you fellasâ€™ can get launched." All the while, his buddy, also in knee deep water, was standing, slack jawed, on the other side of the boat and trailer.
With their help, we launched and went on our way fishing. For the morning we caught 2 nice bass, 5 pounders, but when we came back to the launch ramp, â€˜ole BR-549 and his buddy were gone. We both laughed when we discussed the next dayâ€™s possible newspaper headline, â€œBusiness Executives Fight With Prominent Entertainer Over Boat Launching Rights!"
The 2 things about this incident that I remember most were, one, we were never properly introduced and two, he really was missing both front teeth.
Posted by Jon Bryan in Fishing at 08:25 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)
Sunday, February 14. 2010
Sleeping soundly, I awoke to the loud crack of what I thought was a rifle shot.Â Reaching over and trying to turn on the lights, there was no power, rats, we had an all electric home too!Â The â€œshotâ€ had awakened the whole family, including Rooster, our Brittany and Nick, our cat.Â We were all sleeping around the big fireplace in the basement,.Â â€œWhat was that Dad?â€Â â€œSounded like a shot to me!â€Â â€œBeats me kids,â€ I replied, but later we found out that it was the crack of a pine tree snapping from the weight of accumulated ice.Â At the time, I didnâ€™t even know that could happen.
We had moved from Phoenix to Atlanta in August of 1976 and by January of 1978 had really settled in.Â We didnâ€™t live in the city but in an unincorporated area of Fulton County, Sandy Springs, that was a â€˜bufferâ€™ between Atlanta and Roswell.Â We had selected a home in the Lost Forest Subdivision and it truly was a lost forest, very hilly, a lot of pine trees, but ten minutes from my work and best, outside of the Atlanta ISD!
Being â€˜flatlandersâ€™ and since the last two winters had been mild for the area, we really didnâ€™t know what to expect when the TV weather alerted us for â€˜a severe winter storm and possible ice stormâ€™.Â Since this was a new, high corporate mobility area, most of our neighbors were at a loss too.Â Finally a local surfaced and told us, â€œFolks youâ€™d better prepare for the worst.Â We could be shut down anywhere up to a week!â€
Early the next morning the storm hit in full force, rain, sleet, snow, high wind and plummeting temperatures.Â By evening the temperature had dropped to +5 and by early morning of the stormâ€™s second day, -5.Â The coldest weather Iâ€™d ever seen!Â We thought weâ€™d be ready, but soon found out how wrong we were, even with a cord of wood and fireplaces on two floors of our three, story house.Â The fireplaces, in particular, the one in the basement, and the wood certainly came in handy over the long haul of this storm.
Long haul it was!Â We were iced in and our house was on the middle of a hill.Â We couldnâ€™t go up or down.Â We knew we would slide down and never even tried to go up the hill even in our 4WD, Dodge, Power Wagon.Â Our freezer was in the garage and since we had below freezing temps for over two days the loss of electric power didnâ€™t cause a 'great thaw'!Â We just opened the freezer doors and let the sub freezing cold blow in.
The biggest fireplace was in the basement and our lives centered around it.Â We were without power for almost four days and all cooking was done like the early settlers, over the fireplace fire.Â Thankfully, we never lost water pressure, our bathwater was heated over the fire and they were really only quick â€œrinsesâ€.
The fourth day of the storm the weather moderated some so we loaded up four of my neighbors in my 4WD, Dodge Power Wagon with a sleeper, camper on the back end and headed off to our office.Â Â We all worked for the same large company, crept in slowly in low 4WD and finally arrived safely.Â Nothing much could be accomplished since we only had a skeleton staff that could make it in, but by the next day, schools were opened, business began â€˜hummingâ€™ and power was restored to our part of Fulton County.
During the 'Great Ice Storm of '78', our time was spent keeping the fire roaring, heating water for baths, cooking all day long, venturing to the colder portions of the house for clothes and needed items and surviving the best we could. Our time outside the protection of our basement fire was spent visiting with neighbors and helping, and being helped, with the clearing and cutting up of the numerous pine trees splintered by the ice accumulation.
This was a real learning experience for me, but just stop and think all that our forefathers had to endure, that today, we take for granted.Â Think of the effort expended, cutting, trimming, splitting, hauling and stacking a cord, 4â€™X 4â€™X 8â€™, of wood; or raising enough food to feed the family and livestock for the winter; or digging a 10 to 20 foot well for water or hauling water every day for the familyâ€™s and animalâ€™s needs; or shearing, making the yarn, weaving and sewing clothes.Â All of this with no power tools, no electricity, no running water, no cell or telephones, no â€˜modern medicineâ€™, only the strength and ingenuity of the individual. Â
I think weâ€™ve gotten soft!
Posted by Jon Bryan in Weather at 08:05 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)
Wednesday, February 25. 2009
We had moved from Phoenix to Atlanta in August of 1976 and by January of 1978 had really settled in. We didnâ€™t live in the city but in an unincorporated area of Fulton County, Sandy Springs, that was a â€˜bufferâ€™ between Atlanta and Roswell. We had selected a home in the Lost Forest Subdivision and it truly was a lost forest, very hilly, a lot of pine trees, 10 minutes from my work and outside of the Atlanta ISD.
Being â€˜flatlandersâ€™and since the winters of 1976 and 1977 had been mild for the area, we really didnâ€™t know what to expect when the TV weather alerted us for â€˜a severe winter storm and possible ice stormâ€™. Since this was a new, high corporate mobility area, most of our neighbors were at a loss too. Finally a local surfaced and told us, â€œFolks youâ€™d better prepare for the worst. We could be shut down anywhere up to a week!â€
Early the next morning the storm hit in full force, rain, sleet, snow, high wind and plummeting temperatures. By evening the temperature had dropped to +5 degrees and by early morning of the stormâ€™s second day, -5. The coldest weather Iâ€™d ever seen!
Sleeping soundly, I awoke to the loud crack of what I thought was a rifle shot, but in reality was the crack of a pine tree snapping. At the time, I didnâ€™t even know that could happen. Trying to turn on the lights, no power. Rats, we had an all electric home too! At least we had fireplaces on 2 floors of our 3, story house along with a cord of wood. The fireplaces and wood certainly came in handy over the long haul of the storm.
Long haul it was! We were iced in and our house was in the middle of a hill and we couldnâ€™t go up or down. We knew we would slide down and never tried to go up the hill, even in our 4WD, Dodge Power Wagon. Our freezer was in the garage and since we had below freezing temps for 2-1/2 days, we just about cleaned it out and even had ice cream.
The biggest fireplace was in the basement and our lives, for 3 days, centered around it. We were without power for almost 4 days and all cooking was done like the early settlers, over the fireplace fire. The family, 5 of us, and our pets, Rooster and Nick, the cat, all slept around the fire. We never lost water pressure and our bathwater was heated over the fire and they were only quick â€˜rinsesâ€™.
The fourth day of the storm the weather moderated some and we loaded up my 4WD, Dodge Power Wagon with a sleeper, camper on the back end, with 4 of my neighbors, we all worked for the same large company, and crept in slowly to our office. Nothing much could be accomplished since we only had a skeleton staff that could make it in, but by the next day, schools were opened, business began â€˜hummingâ€™ and power was restored to our part of Fulton County.
Tending to personal needs, keeping the fire roaring, heating water for baths, cooking all day long, venturing to the colder portions of the house for clothes and needed items, took care of most of our time. Our time outside the protection of our basement fire was spent visiting with neighbors and helping, and being helped, with the clearing and cutting up of the numerous pine trees splintered by the ice accumulation.
This was a real learning experience for me, but just stop and think all that our forefathers had to endure, that today, we take for granted. Think of the effort expended, cutting, trimming, splitting, hauling and stacking a cord, 4â€™X4â€™X8â€™, of wood; or raising enough food to feed the family and livestock for the winter; or digging a 10 to 20 foot well for water or hauling water every day for the familyâ€™s and animalâ€™s needs; or shearing, making the yarn, weaving and sewing clothes.
No power tools, no electricity, no running water, no cell or telephones, no â€˜modern medicineâ€™, only the strength and ingenuity of the individual. I think weâ€™ve gotten soft!
Posted by Jon Bryan in Weather at 08:05 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)
Monday, January 26. 2009
In January of 1979 I flew from Atlanta to Tucson and met Jake Schroder and we experienced a wonderful 3 day, hunt for Mearns quail.Â Jake had his Brittanyâ€™s, Candy and Ned Pepper and I took my Brittany, Rooster.Â Â Â We enjoyed some fine dog work, some hot shooting and a lot of good fellowship!Â Right is Jake and Beech walking in on a covey with Candy pointing and Rooster backing.
The trip was way too short and as I headed back to Tucson, the radio announced that a winter storm had smashed into the southeastern U.S. and travel was becoming difficult.Â Later, at the airport, I was told that Atlanta was closed down due to the ice, but flights were still landing. Â
Calling home, my wife told me that she thought her and Brad could come pick us up in our Dodge Power Wagon, but definitely, the Buick was out of the question.Â That made my decision, Rooster and I would fly on in to Atlanta, the family would pick us up and we would be home by 9:00 PM.
It was a three, hour flight from Tucson to Atlanta and by the time we were preparing to land, the pilot announced that, due to icing, Mayor Maynard Jackson had closed the roads and freeways in the town.Â This sounded like Rooster and I would be stuck at Hartsfield International for the night.
The plane landed and I called home and, sure enough, the town was closed down, but my wife said that she had gotten Rooster and I a room at the Dayâ€™s Inn, if, and a big if, I could get to it. I went to baggage to pick up my shotgun and luggage and then to the claims office to get Rooster, then I found a Red Cap to transport us to the cab station. Â
Luckily a cab was there and the driver told me that he could drive me the two blocks to the Dayâ€™s Inn and he would only charge $5.00, I wouldâ€™ve paid $50.00.Â More luck, the hotel manager told me that because of the situation, he would waive the â€˜no petsâ€™ rule.Â He even got some scraps from the kitchen for Rooster!Â Telling the manager that Rooster was â€˜house trainedâ€™ and I didnâ€™t expect any problem, didnâ€™t assure the manager, who told me that I would have to pay for any clean up.
Rooster, pictured at left, was perfect and we spent an uneventful night in the motel and by noon the next day, the storm had blown through, Mayor Jackson had lifted the travel ban and we were able to get home.Â The entire situation was kindaâ€™ funny and wouldnâ€™t have been any worry if I hadnâ€™t had Rooster.Â However, he was a â€˜trouperâ€™ and since heâ€™d spent the last 3 nights out in the open, Iâ€™m sure he enjoyed staying in the motel!
Posted by Jon Bryan in Weather at 08:05 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)
Monday, May 19. 2008
Some interesting notes about the area where we lived in Georgia, Sandy Springs (finally incorporated in 2007), was bordered on the west by the Chattahoochee River and we lived a mile up Soap Creek, where a large Civil War battle, in which two of my G Grandfathers participated, was fought where the river and creek joined.
We lived on Mark Trail Street in the Lost Forest subdivision. The subdivision land was previously owned by the creator of the â€œMark Trailâ€â€™ comic strip. This strip was popular in the 1940â€™s and 50â€™s. There were about 30 houses built around the â€œhollowâ€, in Texas called a â€œdrawâ€, and except for the ice storms, was a great place to live.
It was natural with the nearness of the river and my 12 foot aluminum boat, that we made several float trips a year down it. We would launch the boat at any number of places above Roswell Road, then float for several miles down to the I-285, North, bridge, and take out there.
One trip stands out. We, Benny Evans, a coworker and fellow Texan, and I put in way up the river, close to the gun club and made about a 6 mile, drift down to 285. We would drift the middle, drift around the eddies and drift along the banks, casting to the numerous â€œfallsâ€, trees down in the water. We would drift, then electric motor back over promising spots, trying to keep our baits, Mepps #2, Spinners, in the water as much as possible.
Pictured is my Mepps #2 Spinner, the survivor of the float down the river. This bait is over 40 years old and remains poison for pan fish and fresh water Trout.
We avoided all the â€œtubersâ€ and ended the day with a mixed, mess of small fish. The 4 Largemouth Bass were 12 to 15â€; the one Smallmouth Bass 12â€, one 12â€ Rainbow Trout, 2, 14â€ Pike, or Chain Pickerel, returned to the water because of excessive bones, 4 hand size Bluegills, topped off by 1, 15â€Channel Catfish! We probably caught over 50 fish and had twice that number of strikes. By far the best day I enjoyed on the river!
In the late spring Georgia Tech held its annual, â€œRamblinâ€™ Raft Raceâ€, a true civic highlight. The future engineers at the school would design the most motley collection of floating â€œthingsâ€ imaginable. Prizes were awarded, classes cut, beer flowed and a grand time was had by all! Iâ€™m sure, by now, the â€œFriends Of Wildlifeâ€, â€œThe Green Movementâ€ and â€œThe Nature Conservancyâ€ have put a stop to all of this fun!
Tubing was a family sport, and from May until September, the river was crowded with all sizes of tubes and people. For me, I thought besides getting sun burned, tubing was a serious waste of fishing time.
Posted by Jon Bryan in Fishing at 08:05 | Comments (4) | Trackbacks (0)
Monday, August 6. 2007
The 12 pound Largemouth Bass I caught in 1979, displayed on the wall of my ranch house.
My old neighborhood friend Bill Priddy had worked for me in 1970 in Houston, and we still both worked for the same computer company and recently he had been promoted to a to a marketing job in Atlanta. Bill and I had kept in touch over the years and I was very glad to see him since now I had a bass fishing partner again.
We decided to go after a really big Bass and had settled on a â€œpay to fishâ€ lake, Horseshoe Lake, just outside of Tifton, Georgia, only miles away from where, years earlier, the world record, twenty-two pound Largemouth Bass had been caught.
Winter still had its grips on Atlanta, but the Dogwoods were starting to bloom. What a sight, white blooms covering the hills and hollows, the first sign that spring was near. As we drove south toward Tifton, which is within five miles of the Florida line, we met spring just past Columbus and everything turned green.
We left for Tifton on Friday afternoon, March 8, spent the night in my camper and planned to fish all day Saturday. We were up early, ate a quick breakfast and launched the boat in the first of three lakes where we would fish. This place had ten lakes, all stocked with Florida strain, Largemouth Bass.
We hadnâ€™t been fishing ten minutes when, â€œWhamoâ€, Bill has a tremendous strike on a yellow, Piggy Boat. The fish took line, shaking its head like a Redfish and we canâ€™t figure what he has tied into. A roll by the boat tells us, the high fin giving it away, a channel catfish of at least ten pounds. Not the wall hanger, ten-pound bass we were looking for, but it will look real good in the skillet!
We fish the first lake hard with spinners, worms and rat-l-traps, but only have the catfish to show for it, so far, not worth $5.00. We move on to the second lake, by unceremoniously carrying my twelve foot, Sears, aluminum boat and trolling motor over the levee. A feature I had added to the aluminum boat was three coats of rubberized paint applied to the insides, a liner that I painted on. For an aluminum boat it was nearly soundproof.
The second lake, almost fifty acres, was much like a rice field reservoir along the Texas coast. A deep channel cut all around a square impoundment with about ten feet of shallow water along the sides before the channel dropped off into about six feet of water. The channel, the only structure in the lake, was approximately thirty feet wide, sloping up to a large, shallow flat, that covered the center of the lake.
We choose to cast, me a six inch, motor oil colored, worm, rigged Texas style, and Bill, back to his trusty yellow, Piggy Boat, toward the center of the lake and drag our baits over the shallow water and across, or down, in my case, the drop-off. We had not seen any Bass on their spawning beds, but if not today, they should start within the week.
We finally caught two, three pound, Bass, and quickly put both back into the water to grow up. Well, we thought out loud, we may be onto something, casting toward the middle and working the baits back over the drop-off.
About five minutes after putting the last Bass back, I had a jarring strike on my worm. The fish didnâ€™t gently tap-tap-tap, the worm, but picked it up and â€œheaded southâ€ at full speed. I was using a Mitchell 300, Spinning Reel with ten-pound line and a fairly stiff, six and one half foot spinning rod. I exclaimed to Bill, â€œI got a big hit, Bill, I guess this is another cat.â€ I have fished for and hooked a big, Blue Marlin of five or six hundred pounds, caught a one hundred and twenty pound Pacific Sailfish, a sixty pound Amberjack and a sixty plus pound, Kingfish, all on light tackle, and in comparison, this fish jolted me as hard as any of the big ones!
The fish took line and then came to the top and wallowed up, almost into the air and we saw the big mouth. Good heavens, a big, big Bass, and all I can do is hang on and hope the hook is set securely in its jaw. Another wallow/jump, the fish is too big to get out of the water all the way, but we can see it more clearly, and it is a whopper! Another short run and my line seems to be hung up. I guess the Bass has wrapped me around a log or something.
We turn on the electric motor and inch toward the point where my line enters into the water, and Bill sees motion, a swirl and the Bass has wrapped the line around a snag of some kind. All in one motion, I cut off the motor, tell Bill to stick a paddle into the bottom to hold the boat, and flop into the two and one half foot, cold, water, rod held high and run my hand down the line until I feel the snag. I inch my hand around until I feel the Bass, and hoping that I donâ€™t hook myself, try to grab the fish. No luck. I get a good hold of the snag and pull it to the surface and Bill nets the Bass.
Back into the boat, we donâ€™t have a scale, but we estimate the Bass weighs over ten pounds. I tell Bill, â€œI felt like I was harvesting rice, reaching down and bringing up the snag, moss and Bass, all in one handful. This one is going on the wall.â€ This was years before â€œShare the Lunkerâ€, or, you could get a plastic replica of your fish, so we put her on a stringer and kept fishing. We caught some more Bass, but none even close to the big one, so we decide to find a scale and weigh the fish and head back to Atlanta.
The owner of the lakes was as proud as if he had caught the fish himself and his certified scale showed twelve pounds! I canâ€™t imagine catching a twelve-pound bass. Pictures are taken, congratulations are accepted, the fish was packed in ice and we loaded the boat on top of the camper and headed back to Atlanta.
Back in Atlanta, it seemed like the whole neighborhood came over and the viewing turned into a party. Keeping the fish on ice, on Monday, I took it to the best taxidermist in the Atlanta area. He was in Duluth, Georgia and within a month, my fish was ready. And today, it has a place of honor in the hall of my ranch house, next to a picture box display of my Dadâ€™s old fishing plugs and a replica mount of a nine pound, Speckled Trout. But thatâ€™s another story.
The Sears, twelve-foot aluminum boat is still providing yoeman service with my son, Randy. He uses it to take his kids Bass fishing.
Posted by Jon Bryan in Fishing at 08:05 | Comment (1) | Trackbacks (0)
Saturday, July 28. 2007
About three weeks after my first trip to Suwannee, Florida, I get a call on Thursday night from the guide letting me know that the weather forecast is excellent for the coming weekend and, if I could, I should bring my boat down Saturday and plan on fishing in the afternoon since the tide was coming in then. Having nothing planned but â€œhoney dosâ€, I told him that I would see him then.
Both kids, Randy, 12, and Suzanne, 8, loved to fish and my ex wife informed me she was going too, so a trip was on and we arrived in Suwannee at the only bait camp, showed the kids the â€œpetâ€ Bass, bought some shrimp and checked with the proprietor about the status of the Manatees. No Manatees, so off we speed down the Suwannee River into the Gulf of Mexico.
We started fishing in 6 feet of beautiful, clear, green water and for the first 20 minutes didnâ€™t have a hit, so I moved into 4 foot of water, but with much more grass on the bottom and, bingo, our first casts produced 2 nice Specks!
Kids are fun to fish with, wanting to closely check out each fish, touching the one or two big teeth in the Troutâ€™s upper lip, and of course getting their fingers caught in the fishâ€™s mouth, jerking back and finding the fishâ€™s teeth firmly hold their fingers. Randy could bait up, cast and net fish. Suzanne was learning and now almost 30 years later both are accomplished â€œfisherpersonsâ€.
Everyone caught fish and soon we had 30 nice Specks in the cooler. Since we were going to eat at the only restaurant in town, fresh caught Speckled Trout tonight on their menu, we headed in, cleaned and iced the fish down, cleaned the boat and made arrangements to store it in the very secure boat storage facility.
After cleaning up in our room in the only motel in town, we headed for the restaurant, which was extremely crowded. A 5 minute wait and in we go to be seated, and I see someone stand up, waving in our direction, the only fishing guide in town.
He is eating fish with his clients of the day and introduces me, as â€This is the Texas guy I was telling you all about.â€ Continuing, â€œHow did you do this afternoon?â€ And I replied, â€œWe caught about 30 in 2 hours.â€ â€œSee,â€ the Guide looks at his clients, â€œHe ought to be guiding down here too! This fellaâ€™ can catch Specs!â€
Sometimes a good day job can really interfere with your avocation
Posted by Jon Bryan in Fishing at 08:05 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)
(Page 1 of 1, totaling 8 entries)
Original content in this work is licensed under a Creative Commons License
SEO and Website Development by tekRESCUE