Thursday, May 5, 2011

Where It All Began

Stepping out of the truck there is a smell of yeast in the air and the loud grumbling of a mill. Cars zoom over a bridge nearby and the roar of high water bellows from the river down the bank. The dark green water is placid, murky, and covered in a thin layer of yeast. It is a small cesspool of runoff and wastewater that reflects abandoned railroad cars covered in graffiti. Pacing the perimeter, I am patiently looking for any sign of life while passerby's and workers on lunch break give me odd looks. After awhile, a gray cloud of silt and decayed matter ascends from the depths bubbling outward from the surface. Beneath the cloud lies a fish that calls this environment home, thriving in the hot summer temperatures and scraps from the mill. My rig lands with a slap on the water and my line jerks suddenly. Lifting the rod tip there is an explosion of  water as a surprised carp takes off towards structure, attempting to free himself from the piece of iron in his lip. The worker's heads turn and several poor out of the office to see the commotion. I ease the fish into some shale and pop the fly out of his grill. Lifting the slab of golden scales skyward, the workers approve and I rinse my hands off in the filth. I reel in my rod, and head back to the truck with flashbacks of my first carp reappearing in my mind. Several years ago now, I pay homage to its home. A little place we like to call the acid pond. It is where it all began.

1 comment:

e.m.b. said...

Sweet post, and a beautiful tribute. I love your writing. Carp live among us...right in the mess of the world with us...I'll always remember my first too.