We woke up with head-splitting hangovers from our fishing adventure and night camping, quickly going through all of our water reserves.  We would have to go back to see Jeb at the local store for more water, and since we were only planning on a half-day of fishing, we agreed that it’d probably be best to just pack in the inaugural “Georgia Fly Fishing Trip” early and head back to the rat race.

Jeb had other ideas.

He asked, “You fellas leaving already?  I was going to join ya’ll out on the lake today.  Been itching to do some fishing but isn’t nobody round here these days”. Dave apologized and said yes, we had a rough night and it was time to head home. Jeb replied that he was disappointed but understood how rough fishing could be; you could hear the sarcasm in his voice.  But then he smiled and said he had a great little boat for fishing, and if we want to tag along, he’ll do all the work.

Out back, Jeb had a pretty serious schooner, probably even sea ready.  He prodded us on board to have a look, and it was something else.  He had padded lounge chairs, a cooler full of god only knows how many beers, a charcoal grill just begging to be lit and, to top it all off, another cooler full of steaks, burgers and catfish.  Did we really have a choice?

We’d already thrown common sense to the wind-or fire I guess-with our Georgia fly fishing guides.  Maybe a day with Jeb was just what we needed to make this undeniably the best bass fishing trip ever, as they’d promised us at the start.

We looked at each other and shrugged. 

Jeb shouted, “Ha-ha.  Good to have you aboard, boys!”

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