Huntsville Brownlining
Insane fishing Huntsville Spring Branch.
Insane, his brother Justin and I skipped out of work a little early yesterday for some fishing in a local stream. Don’t tell the boss. We’re in the midst of one of those lovely late winter warm-ups that can fool you into thinking spring is here. It’s not, but the fishing can be pretty good if the water warms up a bit. We’ve decided to renew our focus on the local streams this year. This is more of a resignation to the fact that we can’t move to the Rockies rather than any kind of New Year’s Resolution.
The light in the evening still isn’t lasting long enough to hit some of the more, uh, attractive streams in the areas surrounding Huntsville. So the stream of choice was Huntsville Spring Branch, a good-sized creek that flows right through the heart of the city, picking up along the way pretty much everything you’d expect a city of roughly 180,000 to vomit into its waters. Back in the 70s over 4,000 tons of DDT sediment was dumped in the creek just downstream of where we were. Despite that, it doggedly manages to maintain both a clear flow in all but the heaviest rain and a healthy population of the local warmwater species. The stream corridor is also the apparent home of waterfowl, a family of opossums, raccoons, and several species of songbirds. And, if you look at it in just the right light, the stream is sort of pretty. Okay, scratch that. It’s uglier than Cousin Jesse on a bad hair day. However, as with Cousin Jesse, it can be fun to make up mind games since this is what you’re stuck with, and you might as well make the best of it. For example, rather than admitting to yourself that you share Cousin Jesse’s genes, you can imagine that he was swapped at the hospital with the real Cousin Jesse, who is out there somewhere winning Nobel Prizes. But that’s pretty unimaginative. I like to imagine that Cousin Jesse would be out there winning Nobel Prizes if not for the fact that he was lost on a trip to the Congo as a child and was raised by baboons. He really excels at being a baboon, though. This time I imagined I was a fly fishing archaeologist of the future. I was exploring this nasty stream because, as we all know, the best place to discover artifacts from the past is in the garbage heap. These are some of my discoveries…
Evidence of past human conflicts.
and…
An old shopping cart - evidence of an earlier culture's methods of commerce.
(In the photo above, notice all the plastic bags and garbage high in the trees. When it rains heavily, water storms down this stream channel in an impressive display. Runoff from the city parking lots and roadways flows directly into the stream, and with no flood plain or vegetation it just doesn’t take much for the water to rise 5-10 ft.)
and, finally…
Remnants of a primitive form of transportation - my South Bend bamboo rod poses with it.
Of course, even here there are small pockets of real beauty that you don’t need to delude yourself about. Do you remember when Thoreau said something about respecting the cantankerous milk cow even moreso than the wild buffalo (I think it was a buffalo, could have been an elk or some other critter)? I think I feel a bit of the same thing in places like this. A pair of mallards, raccoon tracks in the mud and patches of blooming daffodils in the midst of all that garbage really hit me as somehow meaningful…
Daffodils, the first sign of spring, always pull a smile from me, even here.
The Gear - South Bend #47 with South Bend reel and old Plano box of new bass flies.
The fishing itself didn’t go so well. I took my 8.5′ South Bend #47 and a small box of new bass flies I tied up this week, but it was almost useless. The wind whipped in force right down the stream corridor, frustrating the already difficult casts (the banks are nearly vertical, requiring a very high backcast). I really needed to get some distance because of the water’s clarity, but I just couldn’t muster it. We were in work clothes, so wading was out of the question (well, I have done it before, but the pants never recovered). I really like the action of a new fly I tied. It’s called a Gulley Worm. I got the pattern off the Orvis site. It’s the first fly I’ve found that really seems to do a good job of mimicking the action of the plastic worms I use to love tossing for big Lake Guntersville largemouth bass. Insane chucked the fly rod for a spinning outfit and a plastic worm. That choice netted him a single small bass that he likely wouldn’t have caught otherwise. It was worth it even if we didn’t catch many fish just for the new friends we made. There was the guy in the white pickup who, on seeing us as we rigged up our rods, flipped us off and yelled, “What the fu**?!” And the guy who hit up Justin (in vain) for $10 because he had gotten in a fight with his mom and had “walked all the way down here without no car.” As we climbed the bank back to the trucks, said our good-byes over the sounds of the nearby go-cart track, and drove down the muddy access road back to the highway, I felt a change in the air. It’s spring, and it’s almost here.
Take care,
Nathan
P.S. – Huntsville Spring Branch is nice place to pick up new lightly used furniture:
Anyone looking for a new sofa?
Tags: Alabama, archaeology, baboons, fishing, fly fishing, Huntsville, largemouth bass
March 6th, 2009 at 8:12 am
Once again, Matt is left out of a TV Angler get-together. At least I know my place…
I’m not sure I would’ve wanted to be fishing in that particular branch anyway, though. Your pics will undoubtedly be picked up by someone on a ‘This is where redneck fly fishers go..hehe.. If your fly gets hung on a shopping cart remnant in the stream, you might be a redneck’ site.
Next time y’all get the bug, just hit the Flint. Easy access and you’ll have someone to smoke cigars with afterward..
March 6th, 2009 at 9:07 am
Matt, it’s not that we left you out….we were more afraid of what might happen to you. Being that this stream isn’t in the “best” of neighborhoods, we wanted to see just how safe the area was before we invited any loyal TVangler readers or other staff members in your case. Mainly for concern of your well being, but we also didn’t want to endorse a gang ravaged stream in case a fellow TVangler was somehow injured (i.e. shot, robbed, beat, and perhaps much..much worse). And there is always that thing about covering yourself in case of a pending lawsuit from a disgruntled TVangler reader or staff member for endorsing this stream. I’d really hate for Nathan to lose his vintage bamboo rod collection in a court settlement!!!
March 6th, 2009 at 9:48 am
Oh, and if you go fish this stretch of water, you have to choose a side, and I’m not talking about which bank you will stand on. It’s about loyalty and survival, you must choose either “Bloods” or “Crypts”, there are no in betweens! Now thinking back upon our arrival, the guys who drove by yelling weren’t just trying to screw with us. They were actually testing our gang affiliation in some sort of “gang talk”, to which we should have answered, “Up Yours Mother @#$#@!”
**Edit: Apparently I have made a mistake that hopefully won’t cost me my life. As Overmywaders has pointed out (see comment below), it should be “Crips” and not “Crypts”… Guess my poser days of being a fly fishing gangster on the Eastside has come to an end. Street slang isn’t really my thing as I grew up and am well versed in that art of ‘hillbilly’….and as the song says, “I was country, when country wasn’t cool!”
March 6th, 2009 at 1:42 pm
Insane,
The spelling is “Crips” – as in “cripples” – but I prefer your association.
South Bend rods are known for their usefulness in street fighting. Nathan was well-armed. He could separate the rod, use the butt section as a club, the mid section for deflecting lead pipes, and the two tips would come in handy – after first biting off the tip-tops – as slashing weapons. That was how it was done by enraged anglers on the South Platte who lost their pool to a newcomer. In fact, the South Bend Company felt it better to issue the rods with numeric designations for the models; these represented the equivalent to a caliber in guns, so that you could always approach the stream appropriately armed.
The eastern cane rod makers never understood this, which is why the Leonard “Fairy” Catskill did so poorly.
March 6th, 2009 at 1:58 pm
Thanks for clearing up my misinformation Reed!
On rods for defense, I love the idea of labeleing my rod as both a weapon and rod description. I hope to put out my version soon and will be labeled “fmenofu” or simply “44mag”
March 6th, 2009 at 2:08 pm
Lol…I almost didn’t recover from the Leonard “Fairy” reference in the context of the whole South Bend fly fishing gang war conversation…
Speaking of South Bend rods, I’ve been surprised at how well mine casts. I was expecting sort of a gang war club, but it casts medium-sized bass and bluegill poppers really well. It didn’t do so well with that weighted worm thingamabob yesterday, but I’m not sure any rod would cast crap like that well. I cast a 7wt Peach line on mine.
Nathan
March 6th, 2009 at 2:19 pm
This may be the first time – EVER – fly fishing and gangland warfare have been intertwined into one conversation.. I’m thinking, generally, those two groups just don’t get together very often.
Or maybe, just maybe, I’ve misjudged you fly fishing peeps. Next time we all go to the Flint, I’ll bring a waterproof boom box and the latest Snoop Dogg. Just remember my homeys kick it in CRIMSON, baby…
PS Apologies for any hyper-sensitive, political correctness wackos out there. No offense was intended – just having a laugh with my pals here.
Word.
March 6th, 2009 at 3:20 pm
S’up dogg? Ain’t no PC foos here.
March 6th, 2009 at 5:56 pm
This place looks great! not only can you catch your dinner, you can furnish your house, and meet friends. To bad there is a creek here by my place, out of town, that has the same amount of trash, no friends though.
Is this the same creek Insane was drooling over all last year? Did you guys carry a real weapon? Looking at the satailte images last year, I thought that was a strange place for a race track. Now I know its go carts lol
The rod as a weapon is a great idea. Perhaps leaving the line in, and having num-chucks.
ps My wifes maiden name is Cripps
March 6th, 2009 at 5:57 pm
yo
March 6th, 2009 at 6:18 pm
Jason,
Looks like your marriage decided which gang you’d join. That’s good, makes things easy. Me and my homeboy Insane will join the Crips, too.
Yeah man, dats the same creek he checked out last year.
hawg out
March 7th, 2009 at 12:09 pm
Nathan,
I’ll bet your South Bend is a 359 (a.k.a., “.359″). I almost bought a South Bend “270″ years ago – that is one of their best rods – but I decided it wasn’t the caliber required for the tough fishing I did. Pool-robbers can sense when you are under-gunned and nervous.
March 7th, 2009 at 1:19 pm
Fo Shizzle Dizzle, I be hangin’ tight wiff da “Crypts” they iz a new group that’ll roole thiz plaze…
March 7th, 2009 at 6:35 pm
you kno’em sayin! we kick’n ol skool! you kno’em sayin
March 7th, 2009 at 11:19 pm
Reed,
Yes, per our email conversation, my rod is a #47. Insane picked up a 359 last year that he plans to refinish. I picked up one of the 290s a couple months ago that I think will be great for fishing in the Smokies. I cast a 5 wt on mine, and it’s very accurate. Now I’m wanting a 5 wt silk line to go with it….will this lust for gear never end?
Take care,
Nathan
I mean…yo, peace out.
March 9th, 2009 at 9:21 am
The only thing more ridiculous than hearing redneck Southerners (myself included) using inner-city street slang is reading it..;) I can just picture our next get together, it should be fun.
Peace out my brothers! Fo shizit’s…