6.12.08 New River Smallies

Having just returned from a trip overseas and still firmly in the clutches of jet lag I had no business getting up before dawn this morning to go fishing. Alas, the call of the outdoors is ofttimes greater than the restraint of common sense. So at 5:30 I pulled into a Krispy Kreme parking lot, the designated rendezvous point for myself and Jeff of Jeffrey Wilkins Flyfishing. Jeff and I were soon zooming down the highway in his Honda Accord (like many other sportsmen his SUV remains parked as fuel prices continue their climb) chatting like old friends and laughing and smiling like all men that are about to fish laugh and smile.

The ride up I-77 was great. Beautiful mountainous surroundings coated in morning fog and shrouded in spring green amplified by recent rainfall. Even at 70 mph the view was unbelievable. Around 7 Jeff pulled off the road into a narrow make shift parking spot. You could smell the river before opening the door instilling a sense of urgency in two anglers. Immediately we began putting on wading boots and throwing gear together. My arsenal included a 7 weight flyrod and and 6 foot ultra light spinning outfit. I crammed a box of lures a box of poppers and various flies, some granola bars and peanuts and a bottle of water into my vest while Jeff emptied the contents of the Honda's trunk into his William Joseph pack. For some reason I'd opted to leave my waders at the house so when I reached down and dipped my fingers into the New I was pleasantly surprised at its temperature. Rather than cold it was instead luke warm, almost bath water tepid.
We waded to almost the middle of the river spooking baitfish and baitfish eating bass along the way. Perched upon one of many rock outcroppings I made my first cast of the day. My fly rod felt awkward, almost foreign to the touch but after way to many false casts my Anthony Hipps soft bodied popper landed with a satisfying kerplunk into the deep green waters.
We fished all day and caught more fish than I can remember. Jeff knew this section of the New like the back of his hand and was gracious with his knowledge. With the blink of an eye we were back at the Honda, storing away wet gear and driving back down the mountain.
Prior to departing we stopped to give thanks to God for a great day in the outdoors and great fellowship among brothers. I look forward to fishing with Jeffrey again and chasing those New River smallies.

Outdoor Devotion: Imitation

My favorite all-time fishing lure has got to be the Rapala minnow. Not just any Rapala but the original, floating minnow in silver. Without a doubt this is my go-to bait. I have full confidence that if I was to walk up to a farm pond, lake, river or stream I'd never fished before and cast this lure a fish would strike.
The Rapala was designed to mimmic a wounded minnow having a "wiggle fish can't resist" and if you cast it into still water, allow it to sit a few seconds (until the water's ripples have disappeared) and give it a little twitch, it drives bass crazy. It's lifelike movement triggers a piscatorial reaction anglers have appreciated for years.
It has been said imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. My prayer for you, brother or sister, is that your life will be an imitation of our Savior, Jesus. Your coworkers, neighbors, family and complete strangers will see the way you live and say, "There's something different about him/her." That difference is the Spirit of the living God working in His followers, forming and shaping us into the very image of Jesus. The word christian literally means "little Christ". May our lives imitate Him and may we wear His name in a worthy manner.

"...be imitators of God, as dearly loved children." Ephesians 5:1

5.15.08 Beaufort NC: Skinny Water

Yesterday I fished with Tom Roller of Water Dog Guide Service. His clients had been very successful over the last week so Tom's sage advice was to take his 23' Parker out for bonito, spanish, amberjacks and some big blues. While tempted I had tailing reds on the brain and being a bit of a hard head I opted for the afternoon bite in skinny water.
I'd tried for at least a year to hook with up with Tom on either a fishing trip or waterfowl hunt but the logistics never worked out. However, when a last-minute family vacation to Emerald Isle opened up I called the good captain and luckily we were able to set it up.
Around 1:30pm I pulled up to the West Beaufort Water Access and met my guide. Tom was launching his Jones Brothers Bateau and although the ramps were in pitiful condition he made quick work of it. After brief introductions we were off.

The skies were robin's egg blue with an occasional cloud here and there. Air temps were in the mid seventies but it was a bit breezy. Not exactly ideal for topwater but a beautiful day nonetheless and as the old saying goes, "A bad day fishing is better than...." Tom killed the Yamaha and we coasted into a likely looking flat. He dropped the Minn Kota trolling motor into the wa ter and directed the boat parallel to the shore using a remote control strapped to his wrist while I began casting a white spinner bait style lure. Had several small strikes, probably pin fish, but no takers. We spent a while blind casting, pitching lures in fishing spots without any success working our way through the flats and soaking in our picturesque surroundings.

There comes a point in every outing where expectations meet and ofttimes collide with reality. Before any trip I find myself daydreaming, visualizing what I hope will happen. Prior to this particular adventure I had pictured myself making a perfect 50 foot cast, plopping a clauser right in front of the snout of a ravenous redfish, watching him devour the fly, setting the hook, fighting him mightily on a 7 weight flyrod and netting him with a flourish. The conditions however were dictating a different scenario and although I was not regretting my decision to chase reds. Captian Roller wasn't making it any easier as he talked about the success he had experienced earlier in the day, fishing in the ocean as he had recommended to me. No sooner had that thought crept into my conscious than it was quickly squelched by observing my surroundings and remembering that I was doing what I loved. Snapping back to reality I cast a Berkley Gulp five inches from the grassline and was instantly slammed by something that peeled line off the Shimano spinning reel and put a strenuous arc on the St.Croix rod. Fighting like a mack truck there was no question mister redfish was making an appearance on the other end of the line. Every time I got him within reach of the boat he would make another dive, taking line and causing the reel to scream. All too soon however the battle was over and the 23" drum was in Tom's net. A couple quick pictures and the fish was returned to the sound.

Captain Tom decided the tide was proper for some wading so we relocated to even more shallow wader. He dropped the PowerPole into the brine and we ventured out of the boat and into the cool water. That was my kind of fishing. As I've said here before, there's just something about being down amongst 'em. I was elated...that is until I stepped into a two foot deep mud hole and lost my Keen sandal. It took some doing to get the shoe free and after laughing at my misfortune I promised myself I'd be more cautious. I was also introduced to a worrisome urchin Tom referred to as periwinkle clams. Beautiful and diminutive in size the periwinkles were just small enough to slide into my sandals but too large to come back out on their own accord. So I found myself walking with an awkward, side to side gait until my most unwelcome passengers could be released.

We trudged and occasionally limped through ankle deep water looking for tails, wakes or other evidence of feeding reds but never saw what we were looking for. Either the tides, the windy conditions or maybe recent rains had moved the drum elsewhere. So we jumped back into the bateau, changed tactics and relocated to another spot.
Our final spot was a tidal creek mouth. With the rising tide our quarry was stage in this type of ambush locations, ready to devour any unsuspecting prey that came along. My gulp paddle tail jig happened to come along and BAM! the fight was on. Another redfish, this one 20" was brought to the net. I quickly put another cast into the same location, hopeful there were other reds there. The jig hit the water and BAM! another great strike. This fish was not a drum however but turned out to be a nice 18" chopper, aka bluefish. A couple more cast came up empty and before we knew it our time was up. Riding back to the ramp I was grateful for another day of life, a beautiful time on the water, the fish that we caught and a chance to hang out with a neat guy, Captain Tom Roller. However, I'm now ready to get in the ocean and check out those bonitos and amberjacks!

5.10.08 Davidson River Flyfishing Retreat

This past weekend was the 2008 Sportsmen for Christ Flyfishing Retreat in Brevard, North Carolina. Below are some pictures from the trip.

Outdoor Devotion: Shed

Shed antler hunting has become a very popular pastime in the outdoor community. I guess it's an opportunity for hunters, beleagured with winter-induced cabin fever, to get back into the woods. Maybe its those childhood memories of treasure hunts or games of hide and seek. I like to get out in early spring and look for sheds. Not only is it good exercise and an excuse to get out but it's a great opportunity to do some scouting next season. Deer trails are more easily noticed, rubs and scrapes are still visible and if you find a dropped antler or two you know you're onto something.
Each year whitetail bucks shed their antlers and begin the process of growing new ones. In North Carolina this usually takes place in late February through March dependant upon winter weather conditions.
A couple months ago I was out scouting for a turkey hunt. When walking along the edge of a large food plot, looking for turkey tracks, strut marks, droppings and other sign that would indicate a good place to set up a blind I spotted something glimmering in the midday sun. Closer inspection showed it to be a large, right sided, five-point antler. Ten yards away was another smaller, right side antler. There was absolutely no turkey sign whatsoever in that field but I will definately be checking out that location again prior to next deer season.
When we begin our walk with Christ He says that we are a "new creation.' Not only is it important that we shed habits, tendencies, relationships and other things it is imperative that we embrace a new worldview. Other people, situations, decisions, etc must be seen through the eyes of Christ influencing how we speak, act and even how we think. As a friend recent told me, we must live lives that reflect the very nature of Jesus. May God give you strength to shed.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! 2 Corinthians 5:17