I would settle for that.
The entrance is pretty much unmarked and sits on the edge of farms out to the west. Today's wind was blowing hard from the west and the little bit of cloud cover gave an almost fall like feel. It was difficult to get suited up without everything getting blown around.
The hike into this creek isn't the easiest. Bush whacking at its best. The creek is also down in a narrow valley about 40 feet below the level of the surrounding farms. I knew once I got down there the wind would hardly be noticeable and the light would fade as the sun went below the thick trees. This gives it a feel like no other creek I fish. You feel totally alone. Since few cars go down the road you have to park on and no farm houses are all that close, I guess feeling alone goes along with being totally alone.
I love that feeling.
When I got to the creek, within a few casts I had landed a couple of rock bass.
That's why I like using small 1/16th ounce jigs with #4 hooks in the creek. They catch everything. You'll notice in all the pictures of fish from this creek I never switched. What would be the point. Then the first smallie of the day was the bonus fish, why I keep coming back to little creeks to fish. From a creek 30 feet wide and a run 3 feet deep comes an 18 inch smallie.
With some beautiful markings.
After catching that fish I just relaxed and fished for anything that bit.
You'll notice they were all caught on the same thing. Why change if things are working.
Every time I come here there is something new in the water. Old log jams were gone. New log jams had formed. Trees had fallen and blocked what otherwise would have been an easy wade down stream. But these are the small things I get excited about. Matt has a sign off he uses for the posts he makes on the different fishing forums:
That's about as good as it gets as an explanation for me.You can never fish the same river twice, by the time you get back it's not the same river.
I've been trying to take more pictures in the woods I go through to get where I fish. I'm not sure I'm succeeding in this. The picture does it justice at times, but missing is the sting of the thorn bushes, the buzzing of the bugs around your head, the deep rich smells of rotting vegetation as well as hundreds of other sensory overloads. In this valley at sunset there is a starkness to the dark of the valley that contrasts with the brightness of the sun over the ridge and through the trees. Some day I'll capture that better.
When I got to the barn that signaled the end of my bush whacking through the woods, I stopped to take a few pictures of it. Each picture turned out different through no effort or knowledge on my part. When I saw the pictures for the first time on my computer screen, I was surprised by each. I liked each of them for a different reason. But what really got me thinking was . . . while I'm out there, just what is it that I'm seeing and how am I seeing it.
Is it one way, or all.
If it weren't for the pictures, I'm not sure I would know what to describe.
Very nice read Ken