The boat is running good, the two stroke making it's smooth whine that drowns out your worries of the other world - the one where you have to make a living. The wind is down and the water is slick so you have the throttle at almost full tilt. Your in no particular hurry but it feels good to race along over the smooth surface, even though it's hard to tell the boat is moving. It's a weekday morning so there's not many boats out, further adding to the feeling that there is no rush. You hit the mouth of the creek and you begin to notice Shad all up and down the banks. The Shad are spawning. Blue Herons and White Egrets are dancing along the edges of the water, catching shad just as soon as the previous catch is swallowed. They are everywhere. Both Shad and birds. You consider stopping here and casting a fly for a bit, bound to be some game fish around with all this bait but, you decide against it. You have a destination in mind. You may catch more fish other places along the creek than the spot your headed but you don't really care. Your not keeping fish so the amount of fish you catch isn't the goal. The goal is to fish a place that holds sentimental value for you. A spot you have fished for years now. You have fished here in good weather and bad, high times and low, with friends, a couple of which are no longer with us and, like today, you have fished it alone. So, if you catch fish, that's great. If not, that's OK too, your just here to visit.
As you pull up to the spot you see all the birds taking off from the gravel bar and you know you have the place to yourself, another benefit of getting out on a weekday. You beach the boat on a mix of sand and gravel. You tie the boat off to a bleached log. You've never had the boat drift off on you before but there is no reason to take a chance. After lacing up your wadding shoes - the cheapest tennis shoes you could find in your size at Wal- Mart - you step into the water. It's not cold but cool enough that an audible sound of sucking air escapes your lips with the added little wistle on the exhale. You wade down to a shallow cut bank were the water is pushing along, down to a deeper pool and you catch a Sandbass of about ten inches on your first cast. A Woodpecker is busy, hammering away on a tree above you, oblivious to your excitement. You caught one, and, if you don't catch another fish today, it was worth the trip to this spot. But you do catch more. Three fish in the next four casts and it becomes apparent that, even if catching fish wasn't important, your going to catch a lot anyway. You had a pretty good notion of that on the ride up with all the birds and Shad in the water. As your fighting the next fish you notice the Woodpecker above you again. He pops out of a whole in the base of the tree and, as you are removing the hook and releasing your catch, you notice how perfect of a hole the bird has created with just his beak. You have power tools in your shop at home that your not sure you could make that perfect of a hole with, much less with a spike made of bone, wrapped in keratin. As a decent woodworker yourself, you can appreciate the craftsmanship.

Great story, pictures, and fish.

And a FANTASTIC STORY! Nicely done!

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Great post and photos Capt. Mac!
I was at a one of those magical places all day Friday with my brother. A place we have been to over a hundred times over 5 decades. We had the place all to ourselves, the memories were thick and the fish were biting.

Got to agree!

Looks like a nice quiet place

Glad to hear it!
With floods, urban sprawl, Increases in population and development, a few of my spots are lost forever. But fortunately I still have a few spots that never really seem to change. Mostly because they are protected by private property and, or they are so far out there they are hard to get to. I hope that doesn't change.

Thanks for the feedback guys! It is appreciated!