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[mattknepley]

It was with a good deal of excitement, and a full thermos of coffee, that I pulled away from my cozy home at 4:30AM the morning of December first. After almost a solid year of trying and missing opportunities to meet up and collect with Dustin Smith I had finally overcome my bad schedule karma and was on my way to meet up with him. Seeing's how Dustin is one of several NANFAns who have taken an encouraging interest in my involvement with native fishes, and seeing's how he only lives a little over an hour away, it had been quite frustrating to keep missing chances to hit the field with him. But there I was, laughing at the gods of scheduling disorder, and finally on my way. I rolled into Dustin's driveway at the precisely punctual time of just five minutes late, introduced myself and hopped into Dustin's fish chasing vehicle. I was pleased to see Stephen Beaman there. It had only taken six months of trying to get out in the field with Stephen. Once it was over Stephen and I had agreed our initial outing was a lot of fun, and if Stephen is a poor enough judge of character as to find me good company then Dustin just had to be a hoot...

Our first stop turned out to be some 12.5 hours distant from Dustin's Lexington home. We passed the first half hour or so with the obligatory ritual of manly small talk; football, cars, and wives being favored topics. Dustin and I are masters of all three disciplines, but as Stephen benefits from lack of experience in the last area we didn't spend as much time as we might have on it. Stephen hid his disappointment in not being able to participate in the discourses about the wonders of marriage by feigning sleep. Stephen is a good feigner, and kept his act up for almost a full hour. Soon enough the dissertations became less domestic and more fishy in nature, and Stephen "woke up" and we three all had a good chat.

At last we pulled into a parking area that didn't have golden arches over it. The spot is a honey-hole of Dustin's, so I am not at liberty to disclose its location. Not that I could anyway, as Mr. Smith had blindfolded me and Stephen half an hour prior to arrival. Not that Dustin is overly protective of his trophy waters but it was only after swearing on various graves of dead relatives and a pinky promise not to describe the surroundings that Stephen and I were unmasked. We then met Rolf Wilhelm, a jovial friend of Dustin's from North Carolina, who joined us on the adventure. Presumably Rolf had already received his working over, and after handshakes all around we donned waders. I had recently shredded my own neoprenes, but Dustin had me covered with a pair of regular plastic, booted chest waders, for which I was very grateful. As the collecting site wasn't a big one, we tended to stay fairly close together. Once I make the mistake of straying from the pack. It was at that point I realized I possess a gift guaranteed to liven up any collecting endeavor. The gift in question is the ability to increase the sucking capacity of any loose aquatic substrate by exponential proportions. Every third step I took I sunk into the bottom up to my crotch. Fortunately only one of my legs was gifted at a time, the result being that while the body of devil-water in question was inhaling one leg to the depths of its watery lungs, the other leg was forced to jack-knife clear up to my chin. No high stepping drum line leader ever struck the poses I was pulling off. Thirty minutes of strenuous pulling, thrashing, and cursing would free me up; only to find myself sucked near under the surface three steps later. Meanwhile Rolf, Stephen, and Dustin fairly floated across the surface like little nymphs, gleefully swishing their nets here and there and pulling up whole schools of fish in one swipe. But I'm a gamer, not a complainer, so I tarried on, and am glad for it. Between the four of us, we pulled a respectable number of species out of that death puddle. Included were fliers, eastern mudminnows, lined topminnows, dollar sunfish, and bluespotted sunfish. All were life fish for me. Oh, and there might have been a gambusia or two.

We had kept a few fish for home, so we packed those up and were on our way to the next site. I kinda felt bad for Rolf, as he had to follow along behind us in his own car, by himself. I almost volunteered to ride with him, but survival instinct prevented me from doing so. Of all the lessons life has tried to teach me, I have managed to learn precious few; but they are important ones. Namely, NEVER get separated from your ride home, especially if you haven't the foggiest idea where home is. Another is that you never let yourself get separated from a free meal. Since Dustin was my ride home AND had already bought me breakfast, there was no way I was riding with Rolf unless Rolf was in the same car as me, Stephen, and Big D. Besides it was almost lunch time. I'm daft, but I ain't stupid...

Our next collecting location was reached a few counties later. I was a little apprehensive upon arrival as the stream in question bears the name of Naked Creek. Much to my relief, we were allowed to dipnet and seine with our clothes ON. I mean, the four of us might not win any fugly contests, but we weren't going to be mistaken for Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Kenny Chesney, or Fabio, either. (Little known fact, those four celebrities actually do quite a bit of naked fish collecting. I wish they weren't so shy about it, though. Better awareness of their activities might really boost female NANFA membership. On the other hand, the paparazzi that would accompany them might really take the fun out of seining. Maybe we should just let them have their little secret.) But I digress. We hit the Naked water hard and promptly came up with brook silverside, pirate perch, blackbanded sunfish, warmouth, bluegill, and golden shiner. There may have been a gambusia or two, as well. Blackbandeds and golden shiners were the lifers I added there.

From Naked Creek we ventured Deep Creek, Stephen and I practically diving into Dustin's suv so as not to chance having to ride with Rolf. Apparently Stephen has learned the same lessons I have. Poor Rolf was again on his own, but I think he understood because he never suggested someone ride with him. At Deep Creek Stephen and Dustin manned one seine, and Rolf and I another. We turned up a few redlip shiners; really pretty little fish. OK, Dustin and Stephen turned up a few redlip shiners. Rolf and I managed one. Quite possibly the most unaware redlip shiner in the whole country. But it proved a belief of mine; chiefly that there is always a fish dumber and unluckier than you are. There may have been a couple unlucky gambusia, too. The redlips were life fish for me.

Next stop was Thompson's Creek, where Rolf and I were delighted to find the fish much dumber and unluckier than at Deep Creek. We managed several Bluehead chubs, Carolina fantail darters, piedmont darters, tesselated darters, and a couple margined madtoms. And a gambusia or two. The Carolina fantails were life fish for me. I noticed as we were leaving that Rolf fairly dove into his car so as not to ride with us other three. I began suspecting he had a really good lunch stashed back there he was unwilling to share. Either that or he had acquired a couple groupies who really had mistaken him for Fabio. As I reluctantly bit into some cold Micky D's and looked at Stephen and Dustin I had to tip my hat to old Rolf. He was pulling one over on us, I was sure. And to think I had felt sorry for him. Well played, Rolfie, me boy.

Our next-to-last stop was at an unnamed tributary of Big Pine Tree Creek. We three amigos rolled right out and got ready for action, but Rolf was slower to emerge from his vehicle. No doubt he was having trouble wiping the caviar and lipstick off his face. At any rate, we hit the water. Boy howdy I was some kind of excited to find the bottom here even muckier and suckier than at our first stop. My gift was really fired up over it, too. No longer did it have to be content with merely sucking up ONE leg, it pulled both of 'em down with malicious frequency. Not only was it grabbing both legs, it was sure to pin my ankles together, with the result that I was a seriously top-heavy pendulum, destined to sway back and forth a few times before I made a slow motion, stiff as a board crash dive into the chilly December water. I must've looked like a tree being felled. (Even so, I thought Stephen's yelling "Timber!" each time it happened was in poor taste.) Fortunately, we found some really cool life fish for me here. Stephen and I turned up banded pygmy sunfish, and were really kicking but in the swampfish department. Those are some neat fish! Dustin and Rolf found two more lifers for me, redfin pickerel and mud sunfish. Oh, there might have been a gambusia or two.

It was getting dark as we made our last stop. We didn't have long, but still managed one more life fish for me, Carolina pygmy sunfish. Oh, and a gambusia or two. All too soon it was dark and we had to head out. Rolf was going to have the longest ride home, but the shy giggling and aroma of filet mignon that snuck out from the back of his transit van suggested he was going to be just fine. Stephen, Dustin, and I had to make do with each other, but there's much worse company someone could keep.

So there you have it. All in all it was a great day, and I hope to be fortunate enough to get out with those three again. Soon. Only this time I might just ride with Rolf after all. I may be daft, but I ain't stupid...

And I'm sure it goes without saying, but I promise every last detail of this adventure is true.

[mattknepley]

Thanks, guys. Would love to grab Rolf (and the other two ) and head southeast!