How not to fish the Chattooga

This weekend's disaster started in South Carolina with a forecast of cold weather, possibly snow, sleet, etc.

The sun was setting as my wife and I arrived at her parents' house. I dropped her off at the house, and decided there was still time to go fishing. I had a map to Burrell's Ford on the Chattooga, and was looking for "Burrell's Ford Road" on Hwy 107. I never found "Burrell's Ford Road", but I did find "North Carolina". I turned the car around and headed back.

The sun was almost behind the mountains by now, but there was still some ambient light in the sky. I decided it would be a great idea to fish at the Hwy 28 bridge on the SC/GA border, since I had been there before. Thirty minutes later, I jumped out of the truck, and got all my gear together in a frenzy because I could tell it would be dark within a few minutes.

I picked a short trail close to the [empty] parking lot that would lead me to the river. I walked and walked, and listened for the sound of rushing water. But instead I heard "aarrooooooo", and I hoped whatever it was did not want to eat me. It was dark by now, and would be impossible to find my way back to the truck. I finally stumbled down the bank and into the river... tied on a woolly bugger, and cast out into the darkness.

After a while, I gave up, and began to walk downstream to look for the bridge. I found it and scrambled up the bank and onto the highway, then walked 100 yards back to the parking lot. I took off my wet boots and waders and placed them in the truck bed, where they remained all night and froze solid.

I was up at dawn. This time I found "Burrell's Ford", and went fishing there. Putting on the ice-filled waders and boots really put a smile on my face. I hopped on one foot to the river, because my other foot wouldn't slide into the frozen boot. When it finally did, I tiptoed the rest of the way. I had bought some new neoprene "glacier gloves" that didn't work. I lost feeling in my fingers a few times, then took the gloves off and felt much better.

I realized mid-river that I NEEDED to do #1. There was no time to wade ashore, and I was wearing chest waders. It's neat how fast you can move...

When I left, I couldn't feel my feet, and drove back to the Hwy 28 bridge with the heater on max.

My granddad-in-law's 90th birthday party was that afternoon and I had promised to be there at noon. I had about 45 minutes to fish, and had a particular place in mind. It was farther up the trail than I remembered (about a mile). I stayed too long, then tried to compensate by running back. Running up and down a mountain trail in wet boots and waders will really wear you out, and heaving in all that cold air gave me a cough that has lasted a few days.

When I reached the parking lot at 11:50PM, it was full of cars. There were six guys standing around getting their gear together. I stomped up to the truck, heaving and sputtering.

"You from around here?"
"Atlanta...<wheeze>," I said.
"You in a hurry?"
etc...

They kindly advised me not to waste my time fishing before noon during the winter.

But I did catch one fish, and it was almost worth it :)