Overlooked Public Land Bass---back to the popping bug roots

                                     

It was mid-June, and the lawyer-quiz was not far off.  Sometimes, you need a break, to clear your head, to get some clean(er) oxygen to the brain, to keep that thing inside your skull from turning to mush, jumbled with actus reus and fee simple subject to a condition subsequent and the rule against perpetuities and the elements of common law burglary or larceny and duty-breach-causation damages and ... on and on and on. 

So, trusty Old Town canoe on the truck, I drove a mere five minutes from my cookie-cutter apartments to a little bit of public land, near where I had often duck-hunted in my undergrad years.  I'd fished there before, and never had much luck, but in a different area, and by foot, not by boat.  As much as I'd like to describe it more, I'll keep the details sparse, in hopes that someone else is enjoying this same spot, now.  

The Beauty of the Unexpected

The beauty of the unexpected---it's what drives many of us to the natural world. 
You might not catch a thing or see a single bird. 
Or, perhaps, you might get lucky. 
You might catch a permit on a bass fly. 
Or even a near 30" brown trout while carp fishing, with cicada dry flies, on a broken rod. 
Or even a black duck out of a white Whaler boat. 
You just never know...

Back on the Sound---from Knotts Island to Bells Island

It was the first weekend of the first "split" of duck season.  Mid-November.  Unfortunately . . . our first hunt on the sound this year didn't go quite as planned.  

Several buddies and I had two Currituck National Wildlife Refuge Blinds, off Knotts Island.  We've had good hunts there before, and I love going up to that part of the world.  Northeastern North Carolina is a special place, a place full of water and waterways.  A place full of history, thanks to all that water.  One of the first colonized areas of Carolina.  Knotts Island is an especially unique place . . . and getting there from the rest of our state requires boarding the Currituck ferry or driving into Virginia, and coming back south, down NC 615, through Mackay Island National Wildlife Refuge, and onto Knotts Island, the island-peninsula jutting out into the Currituck Sound.

This year, we rented a cabin at a campground right on the state line.  Waterfront, with a fire-pit, and even satellite TV . . . the digs weren't too shabby.  

The night before the hunt, our fearless chef, Charles, whipped up some breakfast sandwiches, ready to be quickly warmed in the morning.  We may've enjoyed some hot cider, too.