While typically the winter months see a slow down for me,
that’s not the reason I haven’t posted in awhile. Actually the mild winter we are having here
in North Carolina has allowed me some really good outdoor activities. I got to do some wild trout fishing in the
mountains with good buddy Cope, just before Christmas. After Christmas, I spent a day with two more
fly fishing buddies Malcolm and Jim as we chased stripers with the long rod on
Kerr Lake. There was also a day with my
step-son busting quail at our local hunting preserve, and of course there were
several good mountain bike rides.
I got to ring in New Year’s Eve with my band mates, Will
Baker and the Sticky Wickets. We really
rocked ‘em at the Bean and Barrel. We
crashed at my drummer’s house that night…or should I say morning. I think we finally went to bed about
3:30am. I haven’t done that in a few
years! It was worth it…even the young
crowd liked our rendition of Bowie’s “Heroes” and yes I play my harp on that
one too…using a few cool effects.
Most recently, we had a mild February Saturday that allowed
me a great ride in the morning at my home trail in Little River park. I felt good although there are a couple of
short climbs that had me huffin and puffin but not too bad. I finished the ride before the rains set in
and closed the trail. It was great to be
in the woods. That afternoon I was
supposed to fish a local stream for some “jacks” also known as chain
pickerel. They spawn in February
typically, so I figured they would be active, especially given our mild winter. Cope was going to join me but bagged it
because it looked like rain and cooler temps would move into our area.
The rain held off enough and I went anyway…I am a stormwater
guy after all. I hiked into New Hope
Creek, known for a good population of jacks.
I stopped at a pool where I’d caught a 20 incher before and the hole
didn’t fail me this time either. I
caught two there…caught a few more as I worked my way downstream. None of ‘em were too big…about 12 inches is
all, except for the one that broke me off and got away. That one had to be over 24 inches…had to be
because I broke it off and that’s how fish stories are told. A fish in the hand has a definite size…a fish
broken off has the ability to keep growin’.
The day ended with a good stout from a local brewery…first
time I had been there. I’m not sure why
I waited so long. So let’s recount the
day, February, mountain bikin’, fly fishing for jacks, and a hardy stout. I guess it was a perfect day!
