My one daughter and her family came south from Michigan this week for Spring Break. Her kids are still elementary school age, so it was not crazy teens on a Florida beach.
Their first stop was three nights in a North Carolina mountain cabin with day hikes nearby. Their pics show beautiful waterfalls and beautiful family quality time trekking together.
On Wednesday then we met them in Helen for a competition of epic proportions. Well, to most it would be simply a casual fishing trip in a bucolic setting.
But here’s the deal. One of my grandsons, William, is our competitor extraordinaire. Every flag football game is the Super Bowl. Every youth recreation basketball game is the Final Four. Every game of checkers is played to the death. I think you get the picture.
So, to go fishing for a trout in the Chattahoochee River was no less than the grand finale of the Bass Masters national tournament.
William wanted to catch a trout. He really wanted to catch a trout. And Grandpa was on the hook to make that happen.
The problem was that the odds were pretty strong against us. We had investigated the fish stocking schedule for the river and discovered that it had not yet been stocked this year. Of course, it was scheduled for next week.
I also seldom go fishing for trout and I don’t have much of the specific equipment needed for this specialty. But in the tackle box I inherited from my dad I found some trout leaders and hooks. We stopped at Unicoi Outfitters for local knowledge. And then it was down to the babbling brook to begin the quest.
Let me say here that Helen and the upper reaches of the Chattahoochee River are one of God’s special and beautiful places. Sure, the town has been transformed into an authentic Alpine village, which is nice, but God’s natural beauty of river, rocks, trees and sky is outstanding. Thank you, Lord.
I had fished in Helen several years ago and I remembered a couple of places where we could fish. The first place we stopped was beautiful water, but after quite a while we hadn’t had even a bite, so we did what all great fishermen do, we ventured on to the next spot.
Right away this next part of the river looked a bit more promising as it had a couple of deep holes of water, and I knew enough that those could be our best chance.
So, it was game on.
The first couple of holes were on the other side of the river and, as it turned out, because of the swift current it was impossible to get the power bait to stay in the sweet spot long enough to let the fish start their lunch on our bait.
But then it happened. We walked downstream a little farther and on our side of the river there was a submerged brush pile with deep water right next to it. I helped William navigate the power bait ball, which was smoothly molded around a tiny trout treble hook, first out into the middle of the river in swift water, but then the natural flow brought the tasty morsel right up under the brush pile.
Bam! The sweet words of victory bellowed from Williams vocal chords and his competitive soul. “I got a fish!” he yelled.
“Bring him in,” I said with over-simplistic grandfatherly coaching. One thing that makes a trout such fun to catch is the strength of his body which gives him the power to fight against the hook and line.
And bring him in he did. When William first started reeling, I thought this might be a fairly large fish. However, when he lifted him up out of the water, the reality was rather of a little brown trout, probably born in the river just earlier this spring, barely, but legally, “eating size.”
But no matter, this was the trophy unmatched. This was the conquest secured. This was the mission accomplished. The deed was done. William had his trout.
Of course we fished an hour or so longer, but never had another bite. Again, no matter, because William had a trout on ice in the cooler and we were headed to Fayetteville to do what Grandpa had promised, to fry that trout and have William have his feast.
And so we did.
I hope William will remember that day with his Grandpa. I believe he will for a long time, maybe all his life. I know I will remember that day the rest of my life, and give my thanks to God for blessing us with each other, our adventure, and the trout that God had be there that day for us. Thank you, good Lord.
What a blessing. One trout, one grandson, game on! And we plan to have that game go on, and on, and on. Amen!
