Beauty of an afternoon

The best public trophy trout water in Western North Carolina is not a secret location, by any means.  That is evidenced by the two fishermen below my Ohioan brother-in-law, above (and sebenty-gabillion upstream of us that I didn't have the heart to photograph - HEY!  I broke one of my chief rules by taking my camera gear on the river in the first place!).  He, the Ohioan, is spoiled by the wide open, steelhead-filled tributaries of Lake Erie and has never experienced Southern trout fishing like he did yesterday.

In the pic above, he's hooked into his first fish of the day.  That fish turned him on to Southern flyfishing once and for all.  Here's a couple more shots of him fighting that fish:

Above he's thinking, "This isn't so hard."

Below, his story is changing somewhat. The look on his face was somethin' akin to disbelief mixed with total exhilaration with a wee bit of "I think I just lost bladder control" thrown in for effect.

 And in this one, it's all over but the cryin'

 That would be right after the dreaded "bink!" sound and only a few seconds after the fisherman downstream exclaimed "He's HUGE!!!" as the fish rocketed past his legs (evidenced by the now-slack line trailing off in the distance).

In the pic below, it's an hour or so later and he's hooked into a 14-16" rainbow and he is less-than-overwhelmed as you can tell by his body language.

And here he's chasing after the siblings/cousins/parents of the brown I couldn't keep off the bottom of the river fifteen minutes earlier (there's about a dozen fish piled up under that ledge sipping emerging midges at their whimsical leisure):

So now he's spoiled after chasing wild brookies and various survivors of the poachers catch-and-take guys in some of the smaller waters over the last few years and insists that I never take him trout fishing anywhere else ever again.

Fine by me.

Just don't count on pictures every time.

Charlie

Charlie is the tool repair guy I've used for the last 3-4 years or so.

Charlie has retired from two previous careers and just can't spend his days playing golf or sitting still or being "retired".

So he works on tools.  Not only does he work on them, he can actually fix them.  Most of the time.  If they can't be fixed without breaking the bank, or if parts aren't readily accessible, they go into the parts bin.


You see, Charlie has this great little business tucked into a rather decrepit building in a not-so-friendly part of town.  But he's the only guy I've found who can work on any type or brand of power tool be it electric, pneumatic or hydraulic.


His shop is one of those little places you see and never notice while you're on your way to someplace else.  There's a jar of pickled eggs on the counter, a fridge full of Dr. Pepper and Pepsi and a candy jar overflowing with Tootsie Rolls and Double Bubble bubble gum - all there for the taking.

The shop floor is riddled with holes from hammer drills; covered with shavings from wood & metal where he's tested sawzalls, drills, pipe threaders, circular saws and just about anything else you can imagine from the power tool world.  But it's not the tools that make Charlie's shop interesting.  It's the people & the relationships he's developed over the years.

The last time I was in the shop Charlie pulled out the BIG TIN of Planter's Cashews and offered me a handful (or three).  Then he gave me the last piece of banana-nut bread his wife sent to the shop with him that morning.  He's just that kind of guy.

And don't think you're gonna get out of his shop in less than 15 minutes.  It simply doesn't work that way.  It may be a conversation about his grandkids or plans for his son to go on the mission field or reminiscing with him about his days in the construction industry, but you can count on it being lively and laughter-filled.

I've learned that Charlie's survived sclerosis of the liver; built a 1957 Studebaker into a show car; loves golf (but only plays once a week); has been married for over 50 years; is a deacon at his church; and myriads of other information that most other people really wouldn't care about if they were interested in just getting their tools repaired.  He's a fairly interesting fellow. 

He talks about retiring again, and at 77 you would think he just might.  He really wants someone to come in and spend a year with him learning the business and, more importantly, the customers.  Then he would feel much more at ease knowing his customers would still have Tootsie Rolls, bubble gum, Dr. Pepper and some talkative young whippersnapper to keep their lives interesting.

It's a tempting proposition most days.