The Lumber and Little Pee Dee Rivers in South Carolina are just two of several black water rivers that flow through our state. I recently had an opportunity to spend a few days fishing along these rivers for Redbreast Sunfish.
The experience was better than I imagined. Floating along the oil black water, gazing at massive centuries old cypress trees caused my mind to drift lazily. I imagined Francis Marion wading through these very swamps evading British troops. I imagined Native Americans living among these moss draped trees and wondered if I appreciated it as much as they. I sat comfortably in my boat seat and cast lures toward banks eroded with time and wondered. These very waters produced the world record Redbreast almost four decades ago. Would those days ever return when one and a half pound redbreast were more common? Would the river ever loose its luster, its allure? As the water levels fell, and the river becomes a mere trickle when spring gives way to summer. Will it recover?
As I drifted along, I sensed serenity. My dad grew up mere miles from this very spot. He wasn't a fisherman, but his father was. I wonder if they floated these very courses? I wonder if my dad saw in these trees, this moss, this pitch black water the beauty I now admire?The fishing was outstanding by my standards. Certainly not the good ole days I've heard about. But a bad day spent along the Lumber river is still a great day. I caught my personal best redbreast, and some giant bluegill.
The first evening, we pulled up to a friends cabin, cleaned our fish and fried golden brown, what only less than an hour before was swimming the Lumber. Fish never tasted so good. I hope it isn't long before I have the opportunity to go back to the lazy waters of the Lumber. To float amid ancient trees, whose stories I'd love to hear. To drift lures by their fallen comrades and feel the tug on my line and see the beauty of the Redbreast, in the black water.
