Canoeing Hatchett Creek

Day One This year was special because I was taking my son Stephen with me for the first time. We would paddle the usual stretch from Short’s bridge to Uncle Joe’s Cat Den and spend the night. The fact that Stephen was going added an extra element of excitement. I remember when my Daddy would take me on camping or hunting trips and how excited I was. I remember anticipating the trip days before we started and thinking that the day would never get here when we would leave. Well, the day was here, and Stephen was ready. He was about to turn 6 years old and was a fair swimmer. We ate the traditional breakfast feast at "Pa Pa’s" house and drove to the put in. Stephen and I were in my old red Coleman, George was in his new blue 119 Old Town, Bob was in his green Coleman, Steve was in his green Coleman, Bill was in his new Blue Hole, Charlie was in his brand new green Mohawk, and Dick was in George's red Mohawk. Charlie and Bill were childhood friends. They used to spend ...

Day One We put in at the usual spot on the Brownsville Rd. Mr. "X" was back for another trip. I guess since Hatchett Creek soundly defeated him last year, it was time to try it again. It was interesting to see the different gear Mr. "X" had this year. He had purchased a new green Coleman canoe and had less "survival" gear this time. It was ironic how similar his gear was to ours. George used his Mohawk, Steve was in his green Coleman, Bob was in his green Coleman, and I was in my red Coleman. We were all going solo this year on the first day, so fishing was going to be interesting. Trying to steer a canoe with one hand and fish with the other requires extraordinary coordination. We had to contend with the usual trees that crisscrossed the creek for the first half-mile or so. The fish were biting but the number of casts per hour was probably cut in half. This was due to the solo fishing/paddling we were dealing with. Mr. "X" has yet to figu...

If fishing was good on the upper end of Hatchett Creek then it must be even better in the waters between US-280 and US-231 Bridges. George, Bob, Steve and I decided to try it since there was a good chance no one had attempted it lately and we would be fishing in virtually virgin waters. Mr. "X" found out about it and tagged along. He had just purchased a new Coleman canoe and was anxious to get it wet. He had educated himself on his last trip the hard way. Our goal was to catch a mess of fish and have a fish fry that night at the house. The best way to catch the most fish was to paddle tandem and hit every foot of the creek along each bank with a lure. George and I were in his red Mohawk, Steve and Bob were in Steve’s green Coleman and Mr. "X" went in his new red Coleman. Mr. "X" started first and stayed well ahead of everyone and out of the way. Fish were being caught almost as soon as the rods began flipping. I was paddling our boat and Steve was padd...

Day One After breakfast and coffee at George's house, Steve, George, myself, Bob, Mr. "X", and Mad Max & Little John put in at the Short's bridge. This was Mr. "X"'s first trip down the creek. It was an opportunity for us ignorant red necks to note how a person who has achieved the status of Eagle Scout, Col. in the Air force, holder of two Masters degrees, an airplane flight instructor, a SCUBA diver, a martial arts expert, a Ph.D. in physics and a self-proclaimed guru of all other subject matter, would prepare for such an insignificant outing as a float trip down a no-name creek in Coosa County. Mr. "X" rented a 12-foot aluminum canoe from Redstone Arsenal and brought it down on a rented boat trailer behind his Suburban (tying it on top had never occurred to him). His superior intellect and profound experience told him that an aluminum boat was as good as anything that could be used. After all, he was an Eagle Scout and had been offi...

The decision to make this trip was based on looking at the water level and feeling the warm sunshine of a crystal-clear day in February. We put in at US-280 were going to take out at US-231. George was using my Coleman, Steve had his green Coleman, and I was in the famous aluminum Grumman boat. Since the water was cold and the air was cool, I was extra careful not to turn over. We made good time and enjoyed the trip since it was the first time any of us had paddled in the winter. George and I carried extra clothes in our dry bags; Steve didn't plan on getting wet. A stiff wind began to blow up the creek as we paddled through the thin shadows made by the naked trees along the bank. The sun was at its all-time low in the southwest and reflected off the water into our eyes. I remember seeing through squinted eyes the white caps being blown off the choppy water as we pitched through shoals. We all made it with no problems until we got to the halfway point at David Thrash's cab...

Day One Word of a good thing travels fast. Bob and George talked with George’s brother Bill about last year’s trip and it wasn't long before Bill was hunting up a canoe. Mad Max, who grew up in Goodwater but is no relation to anyone in our group, called George one day out of the blue and asked if we had ever been down Hatchett Creek. George told him that we had and that we were planning to go again in a few weeks. Mad Max said he would be there and bring his son, Little John. We all assembled at George's house at 7:00 AM except for Bill, Mad Max and Little John who would meet up with us on day two at Cat Den and start from there. Mary took us to Shorts Bridge pulling our new canoe trailer that George and I built since last year's trip. The trailer would carry seven canoes and was light enough for one man to push around if needed. This addition to our gear sure made the job of hauling canoes easier. George and I loaded into my red Coleman and Steve and Bob went in Ste...