Progress Killed My Fishing Holes!
U.S. Highway 72 is an ancient road in northern Alabama, stretching from Bridgeport, Tennessee in Memphis in the other across the state. Over the years, I took a lot of fish in rivers and lakes near the road, which snaked around the Tennessee River and the backwaters of a dam or other tax. Sometimes you just want to stop the truck and the fish side of the road.
It was another day, but before any progress towards enlargement of the road has changed forever the look of a new tide little success. Changing Old Highway 72 in a modern four-lane highway was completely destroyed or broken beyond recognition, when my special way of fishing.
I remember a warm spring afternoon, while I went home in Huntsville, Alabama, with fishing at a place called Second Creek on Highway 72 west of yesteryear. My boyfriend and I had taken a few types of fish that morning and as we approached a small stream called First Creek. There was not much thought goes into the selection of names current at the time.
This trend has been one of the most beautiful I have ever seen, as it is among a small forest and craggy outcrop of a huge rock wall. Water has always been quiet and had a hint of green spring pollen remain calm in the superior. The pool is not all could have been more than 50 meters long and 25 meters, but was boosted by Rio, which keeps the water clean and moving along.
Our first releases, the rock, it follows well as smallmouth bass. Does not really matter what kind of bait thrown at them, it worked! We fished around a hours, catching a fish after another until the rest of his party to safer ground. It was a beautiful afternoon that is forever etched in my memory.
At about 80 miles east on Highway 72, was an old bridge about 10 miles west of Scottsboro, Alabama, where 79 national road crossed the road. I spent many pleasant evenings Spring and fall under the viaduct on a boat, fishing light my Coleman lantern.
In the spring, and I all had in fishing time friends capture baskets full of crappie there. In the fall, we give a flashlight to one of the support beams and let it near the surface of the water. When the bait fish to swim through light, we striped bass in the mouth and sometimes unexpectedly large, which we heard the sound of drums from a high school football game about 3 miles where they were fishing.
Every once in a while a car crossing the bridge, shaking loose some small parts of years the waste each time. Nothing heavy each dropped, if any occasions in which he prayed that a truck does not try to cross this bridge.
After a business trip in the Midwest, which lasted four years, turned south and a pleasant autumn afternoon, I loaded the boat and headed towards the old bridge 79. He's gone!
During my absence had been demolished and removed. A new road was built a hundred yards from my fishing hole old, divert water flow away from where I used to fish. It was as if the bridge and my memories night fishing had ever!
There is always progress. If not, they soon wither and die. I hope that progress would leave holes in my fish alone.
About the Author
Bob Alexander is well experienced in outdoor cooking, fishing and leisure living. Bob is also the author and owner of this article. Visit his sites at:
http://www.bluemarlinbob.com
http://www.redfishbob.com
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