USA - Atlanta - June 2005

In June of 2005 I found myself in Atlanta in the USA on business with a weekend spare to fill in some time. Through one of the local contacts in Atlanta I got wind of a private stream owened by a guy named Bob who ran a smoke house outside of town. Following directions sribbled down on a restuarant napkin from dinner the previous night I made my way to Bob's place. An hour of of town and I found the smoke house where I wandered in and asked about the 'secrete' fishing stream. Bob said he knew nothing about any such stream. My heart sank, but thinking quickly I said that Frank Higgins had put me onto him, and then a broad smile struck Bobs face. A short while later I was given another set of directions on a scrap of paper smudged with gravy and other smoke house muck along with a set of keys to get me onto his beloved hot spot. Buying a couple of smoke house special roles and discussing the fishing I was about to do, Bob asked what kind of fly gear did I have? "Oh, just a 6 weight rod with 3 pound tippet" I replied. Bob was rolling on the floor laughing and remarked that I'd need at least 20 pound tippet if I had any hope of landing a fish. I thought he was joking with me, being an kangaroo and all. Anyway, I soon found his parting words ringing in my ears as I was busted off left, right and centre. The fishing was fast and furious with takes happening on every other cast. The battles were short lived as these bruisers found new ways to bust me off at every turn. The water was skinny, being only 8 to 10 foot across in some sections. Trees overhung and followed the stream, but all in all was pretty clear of vegitation to prevent you from casting. The challenge came in that each pool of opportunity had a tail end with overhanging branches, logs for the fish to swim under and then drop down into the next pool, hidden tree roots for the fish to swim through and do loop-d-loops, and a new one I'd never seen before when a fish hit a dry fly and cleared the water before bouncing off the bank and rolling back into the water before snagging my fly on the opposite bank! A big hole was appearing in my fly box as I lost rig after rig. Finally, one fish decided to give me a break and headed up stream and into a pool that it couldn't get back out of. I literally had to throw myself in front of the fish every time it made a dash for down stream. Despite the early difficulties, I soon worked found a couple of ideal pools to fish in and once hooked, keep them in the upper parts before tiring them to catch and release. It was a fantastic spot to wet a line. If anyone ever tells you about a secrete spot and to ask for Bob, make sure you let him know how put you onto him, otherwise you'll miss out on a most excellent place to spend a day.