Break Time

The Whale went out for a bit of a swim this weekend. Bruce and I thought we’d escape the heat and head for the mountains.

The Smoky Mountains are always beautiful no matter what the season. They happen to be only three and a half hours away. Bruce had trout fishing on his mind. I had being lazy with a good book and a little gambling on mine. We stayed in the Cherokee Indian Reservation, the best of both worlds gambling and trout streams.

Disclaimer: I just want to point out that I am not a fishing expert, nor do I fish.

On the first day, we set up camp, and a couple of teenagers came up to our area of the stream to fish. They were really nice, friendly and within 5 minutes the bigger kid with the giant wad of chewing tobacco in his mouth, reels in a 12 to 14 inch trout. I laughed because in the 26 years I’ve known Bruce the best I’ve ever seen him pull out was a pitiful 9 inch fish. Bruce the expert said the kid cheated because he was using a lure not a fly. I personally think a fish in the hand is worth 2 in the river. The expert got out the old fly fishing gear and headed off to hunt for trout the proper way. I’m no dummy, I got ready to eat hot dogs cause I know what comes next. Yup the great white hunter came back empty handed, with some story about getting a nibble. The hunt for the allusive trout continued.

The next day was beautiful, there were men and boys with fishing poles everywhere. They had large trout hanging off their belts, one guy had about ten pounds of fish. They had stocked the river the day before with I’m guessing very large trout. The great white hunter spent the next day throwing his little fly into the water, over and over. He watched guys just across from him pulling out giant trout monsters. His pride would only let him use those dam little flies for soo long. Something in his head finally snapped and he bought himself some bait, to hell with proper fly fishing, he was going to score a trout. No dam little kid was going to beat him. The night ended with no trout for dinner again. I’m glad we brought our own food cause the mighty hunter was not having any luck. Our last day there the hunter did the unthinkable, he used corn, now I’m no expert, but isn’t that what little kids use?

All in all it was a nice weekend. We hit the Harrahs casino for a few hours to check out our luck. It was like hunting for that allusive trout but with more noise and a lot of smoke. Needless to say we’re not any wealthier today and the trout are still all safe in the stream.


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