In Chubby's Church

I present one of my newest friends. I have named him, or her as the case may be, Chubby. Chubby lives in crystal clear water in an undisclosed southeast Georgia lake. Chubby and his, or her brethren call out to the fly fisherman in me.

Tom Brokaw once said "If fishing is a religion, then fly fishing is high church". I'm not sure if fishing is a religion or not. I do know that fishing provides me with plenty of religious experiences, but I digress, because this is about the church of Chubby.

Fly fishing may be more of a disease, or sickness than a religion. It can almost posses me, and in ways it carries me back to my beginnings catching small fish on a cane pole from Carole creek which ran through my Grandfather's pasture, and from the muddy winding Sweetwater creek which Carole creek emptied into. That may be were I started giving fish names, because I would catch and release them over and over. So, this week when the opportunity arose to do a little fly tossing for bass in the crystal clear water, I named my newest nemesis, or friend Chubby, because he/she was the big fish in the pond.

Throwing the smallest, lightest lines and fly I could still spooked the fish, so I had to resort to making a cast and allowing the water to settle then start the slow dance of the fly to entice the prey. This prove to work somewhat well, and it was the only game in town. I caught numerous panfish and a few small bass, but Chubby just refused to play.

Now while I might have you thinking, oh no, another story about the one that got away, let me just say that is not the Old Captains intent. I prefer to think of it in another light, any day you get to fish is a blessing, and to be able to share that with someone else, and even to relate the story at a later date, proves nothing escapes from memory. Some people fish their entire life and think that fishing is only about catching fish, and I will admit that, that is an important part, but only a true fisherman will understand the surrounding beauty and peace that comes from time on the waters.

Old Ernie Hemingway said, " having someone at your back while you fish, is as bad as having someone look over your shoulder while you write a letter to your girl". I think having the right companion to share the experience with makes it all the better, and in the case of the battle of wits with Chubby, there was a witness, so I also have temper the embellishment of the adventure.

In closing I will tell you it was a great time and a great blessing to spend time in Chubby's church, where I learned even more the lessons of the humility of fly fishing. Thanks for the lessons and the blessings.

THE END

Old Captain Sends.