May 22, 2001 — Forgive me. I’m having trouble concentrating.
I keep looking out the window instead of at my computer screen. I’d rather be out on the Chattahoochee River — floating along, fishing out of a kayak — instead of writing this column.
I hadn’t tried it before last Tuesday. But I’ve wanted to go back out and do it again ever since.
Fishing out of a kayak just feels right.
The current is your trolling motor, your eyes the only depth finder you need.
There is no smell of gas, no engine roar to drown out the birds, the bugs or the babble of water as it carries you along.
“I can go out there all day on a Saturday and not see another fisherman,” said Peter Hinck, guide for my maiden voyage. “I catch up to 50 fish, and have a great time.”
Hinck, of Lawrenceville, grew up fishing in south Florida. But he never considered casting from a kayak until he read a magazine story about it four years ago. Even then, he had his doubts.
“At first I thought I’d be paddling a lot and not fishing as much,” said Hinck, 44. “But I use the wind and current to move, and I use the paddle to keep me in line.
“I’ve got to use what nature gives me. And it works out really well.”
Everything Hinck needs for a day of fishing can be found on or inside a 12-foot piece of plastic. Hinck’s kayak is rigged with more rod holders than many bass boats. He brought eight rods, both fly and spinner, along for our trip. His tackle box and fish net, like everything else, sit within reach. Elastic bungee cords tie it all down.
It’s the perfect practice for the fiscally-conscious fisherman. Hinck has less than $1,000 invested in his gear, boat included.
“There’s virtually no maintenance,” added Hinck, a meat manager for Publix supermarkets. “If I decide to go, I take the boat and throw it in the back of the truck and go. And I don’t have to worry about finding a boat ramp.”
When Hinck returns home, he simply hoses his kayak off and stores it in his basement until the next fishing trip.
Hinck and I fished what is known as Section II of the ‘Hooch, a 5-mile stretch between Ga. 255 and Ga. 115 that creates the border between White and Habersham counties.
We saw five human beings during the day. Hinck said that was much more than usual.
“I wanted something where I could get away,” Hinck explained.
And a kayak allows an angler to be antisocial. You can weave yourself around rocks into pristine waters off limits for many larger boats. You can cast into waters teeming with unsuspecting fish, several of which have never even seen a lure.
The ‘Hooch is home to many species of fish — some expected, some not. Hinck routinely hooks small stripers, and is convinced the Lake Lanier mainstays use the river to spawn.
Hinck has even caught walleye — yes, walleye — in the Chattahoochee. They head upriver in the early spring when water is cold.
“Most people don’t even know that walleye are in Lake Lanier,” Hinck chuckled.
Last week, Hinck and I went for what he calls the “grand slam” of fishing: brown trout, rainbow trout, striped bass and shoal bass. North Georgia, Hinck said, is the only place that foursome can be caught in the same body of water.
The wild card in that combination is the shoal bass, unique to the Flint River chain, of which the ‘Hooch is a part.
“There’s a lot of fish in this river,” Hinck said. “It’s just a matter of figuring out where they are.”
I hooked a huge one with my first cast. I believe it was a hemlock tree.
Casting out of a kayak doesn’t come easy. But a slow float down the Chattahoochee provides plenty of time for practice.
If you need a break, just open your eyes. There’s a lot to look at on the ‘Hooch.
Turtles do belly flops off of nearby logs. Cows stare curiously from the banks. Canada geese and herons fly in and out of view.
Oh yeah, look down and you’ll likely spot a fish or two.
“You can get really close without spooking them,” said Hinck, who often parks his kayak on rocks and wades out into the water for a different approach. “Sometimes they’ll even use your kayak as cover.”
We didn’t manage the grand slam, but we got our share of hits: bluegills, spotted bass, shoal bass, even the odd gar. A day on the Chattahoochee beats being back at the office no matter how many fish you catch.
“So what do you think about when your out here?” I asked Hinck midway through our trip.
Hinck stared back at me blankly. The sun bounced off a waterfall behind him.
And then Hinck smiled.
“I just think about fishing,” he said.