And so, it would be, on day 5 of my trip. When I finally spotted a 6-pound brown trout, lying at the bottom of a 5-foot deep pool of really fast moving water.
Now, the only thing for me to do would be to stalk into the appropriate position. So that I could cast a deep-diving nymph to him. Bounce it off the bottom. And then, the wise old trout would scarf it up…
But, I will tell you when you are stalking a fish like this. It’s easy for even the most subtle of movements, or just the slightest motion of your hand, to scare that fish. Resulting in that trophy fish, rocketing off into oblivion.
So I was careful. Patient. Moving in slow motion. Stalking. Like a panther.
Then, you’re in position. But, the game’s not over. No, because you’d better make sure that first cast is in the right spot. Because, if you haphazardly cast your fly, your nymph, too close to the fish. Well, again, that wise old trout is gonna bolt, never to be seen again. So you gotta make that first cast count. With just one backcast. And, no false casting.
And then, your fly, your nymph, needs to land a few feet in front of that fish. So, he doesn’t spook from the splash. And, also, so your deep water nymph can sink in the downstream current, so that it’ll drift right towards the fish’s face. Right into his feeding zone, where he’ll strike at your nymph. Then, you set the hook. And, it’s game on. A game that will not be forgotten for all time with a fish as large as this. A real prize. A trophy trout. Perhaps, even, a once-in-a-lifetime fish in the Smokies.
And the prize. The trophy trout was going to be all mine.
My approach. Cast, splash, and drift were all flawless. Perfect. And then, the nymph tumbled to the bottom, tapping rocks. Skidding along. Right in front of the gargantuan brown trout. Then, I saw the flash, and white of its mouth, as he opened his mighty jaws, engulfing my nymph! So I set the hook solid and would’ve been in for the fight of a lifetime.
Except, I’m not really sure exactly what happened next. Yes, by God, the fish was hooked! Yet, with one powerful thrust of its tail, he just surfaced, face only out of the water. And shook my hook right out of his mouth. While, at the same time, my left leg slipped down the steep ledge of the rock, which I was standing on beside that pool. Then, my foot lodged into a crack, or crevice. Or, maybe even, an underwater logjam.
And this was a very serious hazard! A whitewater foot entrapment.
My forearms resting on the rock behind me now, I tried to do a couple of reverse dips to free my foot. But, it was no use. As my left foot felt like it was cemented in place. And the only thing saving me now was that I was only partially immersed in the water in a micro eddy. The water rising up to my crotch.
But, the eddy was tiny and unstable. While the fast whitewater rushed right in front of me. Still, my foot wasn’t coming loose. From twisting. And pushing with all my might on that rock behind me. So I slowly lowered my right foot into the water, too. A dangerous gambit. But one that would give me the leg strength leverage to break free.
But, as I lowered my other leg, the upstream current caught my hip. Surging up and into my wading pants. Then, the full force of the current suddenly pushed my whole body sideways. Turning me backwards, facing downstream. And then, the strong currents of Hazel Creek just inevitably buried me underneath the water. Facedown. With my left foot holding solid, as the anchor.
God help me…
So you can only try flailing, twisting, and turning in the water for so long. Until you run out of breath. And that happens fairly fast.
And, I’d like to tell you I was a hero. A real badass. But I just existed in a state of pure focus and awareness, while I fought in vain to free my foot. For the longest time. It seemed. Still, then there was the inevitable gasping and gulping down of the water.
Hazel. Oh, beautiful, sweet, haunted Hazel. No, she wasn’t going to let me go.
My lungs and chest felt like they were being pulverized by the greatest heavyweight fighter of all time. And truly, as I’d foreseen during all of those sleepless nights, it was now going to be my time to see the light. For all time.
But light. I did not receive. Nope. Just darkness. And a pop. Then, there was this static energy, I think, enveloping all of me. My vision blurring in the static to nothing…
With good fortune, though, a little while later, I found myself walking down the trail alongside Hazel Creek in a daze.
Must have managed to free myself.
Yeah, all those years of whitewater training hadn’t been in vain. But how? When the stream bed had held my foot, like it was tied to a 1000-pound lead weight. Still, what use was there in questioning my reality now?
Me, living and breathing. And walking down the trail beside Hazel Creek. In a golden fog, just like that glorious fog KD and I had lived through when it rained on us all those days on this very creek so many years ago.
And then, he was there. My Uncle Gerry. Driving up behind me in his Jeep.
Gerry! I exclaimed, when he pulled up beside me.
Need a ride? he asked.
I don’t know where I’m going… I responded in dismay.
Well then, I’ll take you there. But maybe you should drive.
And so I did, getting into his Jeep. Taking the wheel. And driving down the road, the trail, beside Hazel Creek.
Oh stop, here, Gerry said after a little while.
And when I did, I saw the golden fog clear for a bit in a gentle breeze. Then, I saw a farm. Gorgeous, green, with fertile fields. And a big pond patiently filling with water from a small tranquil creek.
Is that your farm? I marveled.
And Gerry just nodded at me.
Well, why don’t we drive over there?
We gotta get you where you’re going.
Where’s that?
Downstream…
And so, I drove on until I saw a serious chasm in the road ahead of us. Which was a deep washout. About 7-feet deep and wide!
So, I started braking, the Jeep skidding.
Hit the gas, Gerry said.
We’ll crash.
Hit it! Gerry barked back at me.
So I floored his truck. No way we’d make it. But somehow, someway, his Jeep just seemed float and fly right across the expanse, landing on the other side with just a slight bump.
What the..? I asked, stopping the Jeep. How’d you do that?
But Gerry just looked at me, wistfully.
Downstream, that’s where she’ll be, he told me.
Who?
You know her.
Well, walk with me?
This is as far as I can go. He shook his head.
Well then, I’ll see you back on the farm, later, I remarked getting out of his Jeep and staring at the road ahead of me. While Gerry got into the driver’s seat again.
At which point, I started to go. But then, I remembered that Uncle Gerry had died just last year. So I turned to ask him how it was that he was alive and here now.
But when looked for him, I saw that he’d already turned around his Jeep and had vanished into the mist, just like that. Which didn’t make any sense to me, as his unbelievably swift and mysterious disappearance just seemed to be in defiance of any standard earthbound physics. I mean, he just hadn’t had enough time to do all that…
But, I also reasoned that lots of things weren’t making much sense to me, anymore, ever since I’d escaped from that jam underneath Hazel Creek. So maybe it was just that I’d swallowed too much water when I was drowning. And it had all gone into my brain. Or something. Leaving me in this strange state of delirium, or discombobulation. Which I was completely okay with for the time being, given everything. And with that thought in mind, I just turned back around again. And began walking down the road along Hazel Creek, through the mists and golden fog, swirling all around me.
Gary Alan
After a long career in the publishing industry, Gary Alan left his corporate job to pursue his next adventures in life as a blogger, writer, investor, fly fisherman, hiker, and traveler. He is the author of the adventure fiction book, 'Big Thunder-Hearted River'.