When I was growing up, I spent a lot of time patrolling the creek banks. Young boys seem to gravitate toward bodies of water. It could be a stream, drainage ditch or even a puddle. There is just something about water that seems to draw in a young boy. I don't particularly think that girls are similarly drawn. There could be exceptions to this, I'm sure. But as a general rule, it would be safe to say that most boys feel an irresistible pull toward water.
There also seems to be an exploration need that is inherent in all boys. Not only are we drawn to water, but we also must explore every ounce of it to see what we can discover. This may include lifting up rocks to check what's underneath. You never know what you may find.
You may want to alter the course of water also by diverting its
flow. And last, but most definitely not least, a boy has to throw rocks at the water. It may be to skim stones to see how many times you can make it skip. Or it may be just to see how big a splash you can make.
On skipping the stones, you need first of all to select the right stone. You can tell when you pick it up. I prefer one not too fat or heavy. I also like smooth rather than jagged edges. You then develop your throwing style. I always threw side arm or almost submarine style. You also learn precisely the right spot to strike and the angle of trajectory to maximize the performance of the stone. To boil all this down, you learn how to get the most skips out of each throw, by throwing a lot of rocks.
Another activity which was fun to do in the summertime was dam building. This was essential to making the creek deeper for swimming. There weren't a lot of deep pools in the creek, so we helped to construct our own. This was always a lot of fun. Everyone interested would assist in stacking rocks so as to cause the water to back up. This worked very well, but was only temporary. The water would gradually erode the dam. So we needed to provide constant maintenance and rebuilding to keep the water level deep enough for swimming.
I always enjoyed swimming in creeks and rivers much more than in ponds or lakes. There is something about running water that refreshes and soothes. I love the sound of water cascading over the rocks. It was also fascinating to watch how the water ebbed and flowed. You could place an object in the water, then follow its travel. It would go through a series of starts and stops in backwater before it was finally pushed over an obstacle and was swept away.
While playing in the streams I also loved to catch minnows and crawdads. There was definitely an art to catching crawdads. This required a slow steady hand. A couple of rules had to be followed. The first was, when lifting a rock you must lift it gently, and wait for the muddy water to clear. If you discovered a crawdad underneath, you then moved the rock to a different spot and sat it down gently. The next move was a slow hand from the rear with the final swift grasp of the crawdad. This procedure was repeated over and over. The second thing to remember was to try not to muddy the water up too much. It was important to move upstream when catching crawdads. Sounds simple enough, doesn't it?
Catching minnows was a little harder as they were much faster and more elusive. It was very hard to catch minnows with your bare hand. The best way was to seine them. The next best way was to dip them up with a container. If I was catching minnows or crawdads for fishing bait, it was best to use a seine. Seining worked best when you had someone walk through the water to drive them to the net. The harder way was to try to use the seine as a dip net. The catch was always much smaller.
Catching minnows and crawdads was sometimes done just for fun. But most of the time it was done to obtain bait for fishing. I discovered fishing at a very early age. Most of the fishing tackle that I had consisted simply of line, hooks and sinkers. No lures, bobbers or other fancy equipment was in my inventory. A float or bobber was simply a piece of cork, if available.
The line was the black line that was wrapped on the white cardboard holder. I would just cut enough off for my pole with a little extra. This excess line would be wrapped around the pole. I would attach the line to a cane-pole if I had one, or a suitable sized stick that I would cut for a fishing pole if not. If I needed the extra line, I could unwrap some. A small container of assorted sizes of fishhooks and sinkers completed the tackle.
The sinkers, if store-bought would most of the time be split-shot sinkers that I would bite together on the line with my teeth. I wouldn't want to try that today. "Old Lightning", still has his teeth, but would like to keep them just a little while longer. The other sinkers would be made from the lead picked up near the railroad track. I would always look for this lead whenever I was walking on a railroad track.
In speaking of railroad tracks, let me digress for a minute. I remember my wife and kids always asked me why anyone would lie down on a railroad track to sleep. I never did have a very good answer for that question. I think that most incidents occurred as a result of strong drink. They asked this question because, when we would go home for visits they noticed that many people were missing limbs. When they asked what had happened, I invariably replied that they had lost their limbs while sleeping on a railroad track. Using the railroad tracks to get from point A to point B was a favorite way get there on foot. Usually it was convenient. It was well maintained, not overgrown by weeds. It was also a lot of fun to walk the rails. We would try to see how far we could get before falling off. This was not only fun, but also necessary. Otherwise it became very monotonous walking on the crossties. However, back to the original question. Navigating from point A to point B did not include lying down to sleep.
Getting back to fishing. I was always trying to locate and land the elusive "Big One." I would patrol the creek banks focusing mostly on the pools of water. There was an especially good stretch of water between the bridge going up Little Creek and the white bridge going up to Happy Top. You could either fish from the ground on one side or walk the higher bank on the other side. I caught several fish there.
This is the same stretch of water that would attract a large group of people each year attempting to snag the sucker fish during their annual run. I'm sure that many of you can remember this town event. People would line the banks trying to snag the fish with treble hooks. This could be a hazardous time on the banks, as hooks and lines were flying in all directions. The fish run would only last a short time, and then the fish would move on.
Another favorite fishing hole of mine was "The Culvert." You got there by walking between G.D. Saylor's house and the Pressing Shop building. This was the convergence of Wallins Creek and Terry's Fork Creek before it emptied into the Cumberland River. This was a great place for both fishing and swimming. There was a concrete wall that ran out into the water? You could fish off of it, but it was primarily used for diving into the water by swimmers. The water flowed through the culvert, hence the name. It had a railroad track on top. The top was a good place to fish from, but it required a long line to get down to the water. You could also fish from the sandy beach-like area underneath. I can remember catching some nice catfish there. They were mostly mudcats or yellowbellies which lay near to the concrete wall. I remember catching a whole bucket full of little black colored catfish that were only about 2 inches long. They were fun to catch but not much good for anything else.
Another interesting stretch of water was the stretch that ran under Hammond's store, the roadway and Hatmaker's store. The buildings and roadway were built over the creek. It was great for exploring, but was sort of dead because of the darkness and the runoff from all the houses that lined the creekbanks. It was sort of weird, wading the creek beneath the buildings. It would be hard to describe unless you have been there. The dilapidated shell of the Hammon's store sat as an eyesore for years. It was finally torn down, and a small park made out of the property. I remember Hugh and Lottie Hammonds. They were very nice people. I can remember my mom taking me to their store to buy shoes and clothes. They were also very generous in extending credit to us when we didn't have the money to buy needed things. The store had the distinctive smell of a dry goods store. This was a good rich smell. I remember that clothes and shoes were wrapped in heavy paper and tied with twine. Another lost forever piece of small business lore.
The same was true for the Hatmaker's store. My mother would send me to the store to buy food and other things. Mrs. Hatmaker was always nice to me and especially generous to our family. She also extended credit to us. I'm sure that she provided some things for which she was never fully reimbursed. That building may be gone now, but I can still see it in my minds eye.
Another way that I tried for fish was by gigging. I was not very successful. This was accomplished at night by wading the creek and using a carbide light for illumination. The gig is a sharp pronged instrument used for stabbing the prey. It was affixed to a pole, which extended the reach of the gig. A carbide light is not the best light to use, but it was the only light source that was available. I guess for all the purists, it was the light of choice. I did not have a whole lot of luck, because I could not see the fish very well. They blended in quite well with their surroundings. Another thing, which distracted me, was the snakes. They were a constant problem. They did most of their hunting and swimming at night. They were also attracted to the light. I spent most of my time looking for snakes rather than fish.
One night while gigging, I saw the biggest bullfrog that I ever saw. It was enormous. Just as I was ready to stick it, it jumped and swam away. As far as my gigging career went, "The Big One" that got away was a bullfrog, not a fish.
