Ok, here's an exciting trip report from last weekend, complete with pics:
Last weekend number 2 son came home from school for a backpacking trip. The weather was lousy, not cold enough for snow but cold enough to make the steady rain miserable. So we altered our plans, leaving the tent at home, opting to stay in a nice motel, and trout fish in Cherokee, NC.. We were going to fish on the reservation because they stock obscene numbers of fish and the only license needed is a $7.00 permit from the Indian reservation. As we approached Cherokee I noticed that none of the outlying motels had vacancies. This was strange in that Cherokee is a fairly dead place in Winter. Everybody is over the mountain at Gatlinburgh eating funnel cakes and sliding on the slush that passes for ski slopes up there. We hit every motel in town and there was no room at the inn. I finally broke down and asked a desk clerk just what the heck were all these people doing here in the dead of Winter? He said it was the only weekend in the Winter that the town was full, it was a combination of Valentine's Day, a Monday holiday, and gambling. I had forgotten that the “Gateway to the Smokeys” had become a den of inequity. Click, click, click....I just pulled two lemons and a cherry on the slot machine of life. Nothing to do but to head out of town until we found a vacancy. We finally found one. Nice, eh? Check out those concrete deer, you won't find those at Dizzyland.
Before registering, the proprietor informed me that electric heat was included among the many amenities of the room. The space heater was a genuine antique, the cord had that braided cloth on it which predates the plastic covering found on modern appliances.
We settled down for a two hour Cops Valentines Day special, “Love Hurts”. Two hours of domestic violence. “Don't take him to jail!”- “I love you baby!”- “I'm gone kill you when I get out!”
The whole place had a Quintin Tarantino/Texas Chainsaw Massacres feel to it. Looking through the window of the shower which gave a view of the back of the property, we noticed a small shed, which we surmised to be the smokehouse where bodies were hung for Hillbilly Barbecue. It had been a long day and I soon drifted off with visions of 3 lb. Browns dancing in my head. I awoke at 5:30 the next morning to find number 2 son's bed empty. He wasn't in the bathroom, he wasn't under the bed, he wasn't at the coke machine, he was no where to be found. About the time that I decided that Leatherface had him hanging in the smokehouse, I noticed the truck keys were gone, but the truck was still in it's parking space. The doors to the truck were locked so I beat on the fogged window. Number two son's head arose from inside and stared back at me. Turned out my snoring was so loud that he abandoned the room in favor of the cold cramped quarters of truck's back seat. I found his story implausible since I don't believe I snore. It was time to bid adieu to the motel and catch a limit of fish.
Our arsenal was replete with every spinner known to angling. We were on the water perhaps 5 minutes before I broke my five piece pack rod. It's off to Cherokee again for the purchase of a rod, the transaction bordered on extortion, I don't like to think about how much I paid for that rod. Soon we back on the river throwing everything but the kitchen sink to no avail.
Finally, number two son managed to get this little thing to the bank. I think he foul hooked it, I hadn't seen so much as a flash of fish in the water. It was getting late, and I was getting desperate. Nobody gets skunked at Cherokee and there I was: number two son, one fish; me, nada. I panicked and sped to a bait shop for the unspeakable among serious trout fisherman...Night Crawlers. Dynamite is a more ethical bait than Night Crawlers. My blatant indiscretion was not rewarded, no trout rose to this shameful offering. Click, click, click..two cherries and a lemon, I was skunked. All in all it was a fun trip.
Fishing sucks
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