We celebrated our first caught fish with some vintage “moonshine” from the locals, baked beans and bass cooked over the fire with salt, pepper, and lemon.  If that’s not old-school country, I don’t know what is.

During one of the funnier moments of the trip, we were well into the evening, the fire was dying and we were low on wood. Dave said we should go get some more wood. So I say, “Okay, where’s the flashlight? Dave replies that he has not idea and I point out that I have no plans to walk around trying to hunt down more wood.  I remembered we did have something that that burned, and I went to the tent, walking back with a stack full of Georgia fly fishing guides. Yes, it was stupid but in the moment, we thought it was quite brilliant.

With an evil laugh and a broad smile, I tossed him a couple books, and we proceeded to rip them up and throw them piece-by-piece into the fire. 

I would say it was about right then we finally accepted that no fishing trip, especially not a Georgia fly fishing trip, is meant to be dictated by guides found by typing in “fly fishing guides GA” into a search engine. Those guides really came in handy.

But I really wish I hadn’t actually burned them.

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