Saturday in the Park

Fluffy white clouds drifted lazily above in the vivid blue sky. A steady breeze rumpled my hair, and tempered the heat of the evening. I gazed across the expanse of the Chattahoochee River, my eyes straining to catch a glimpse of a hawk which I knew lived in the trees on the other side. The river rushed through one of the lower floodgates of the dam and swirled over and around the large, smooth rocks that lined the riverbed. Watching the swirling water, I recognized the signs of undertow, a dangerous phenomena for which many large rivers are notorious. The water appeared calmer as it flowed into the deeper center of the channel and on toward the bend about a quarter mile downstream. Yet I knew from having grown up around the wild Savannah River that the deadly undercurrent still lay within its depths. Not seeing the hawk, I turned my attention to the other activities going on around me.

People come to West Point Dam for varied reasons. Hardly Creek Park is located at the dam site and affords hours of fun and relaxation for all ages. Along with picnic tables scattered among the towering pines and oaks, the park boasts a paved walking trail, play areas for the kids, and a side pond in which children and persons with disabilities can fish. Squirrels play throughout the park. Ducks and geese can be seen in the pond, especially during the fall and winter months. For me it is a place of serenity. The rushing water has a calming effect. Communing with nature centers me. And the squirrels always make me laugh. But the main reason people seem to come here is to fish.

Seated on the rocks below me were a couple of men, fishing rods in hand, casting into the river's center. The current quickly took their bobbers downstream. I wandered toward the lookout area close to the dam itself. As I walked along, I spotted movement out on the rocks. A large grayish bird was walking gingerly through the shallows. A Great Blue Heron. It stooped low, drawing in its neck as if trying to make itself look like a rock. Then it crept forward, tilting its head sideways as though for a better view...of what? Suddenly with a snake-like quickness its head shot out and down, coming up from the water with a wiggling fish in its long beak. With a quick toss and a gulp, the fish disappeared down the heron's throat. Ignoring me and the other fishermen, the heron walked back across the flat rock and took up a sentinel stance, waiting for another fish to stray within its reach.

I stopped at the overlook, grumbling to myself for missing a good shot of the Great Blue catching a fish. Having turned off the camera to prevent battery drain (the bane of digital cameras!), I wasn't prepared to get the shot. Later, I did manage to take a few good photos of the bird standing quietly by the water's edge. Lined up along the causeway to my left was another group of fishermen...and fisherwomen. Their rods looked sturdy, and some had what looked like plastic soda bottles tied to their lines. Have to confess, I was somewhat puzzled. They casted their lines out and down...waaaay down...to the dark water that rushed from the gate below their feet. As the current caught their lines and pushed them toward the center of the river, I saw the wisdom of using a soda bottle as a cork. Those whose lines had a regular cork attached were much harder to see in the swirling water than the lines with the soda bottle attached. Hmmm. But still, it was a long way down and I wondered what pound test line they were using and how on earth would they get any fish they caught up to the causeway without it wriggling off the hook. And I found that out, too, as a flurry of excitement soon alerted me that a fish had been hooked. The man's rod bent as he played the fish. All the while, he was moving along the causeway in my direction. I moved back so he could pass and caught a glimpse of a very large fish. Wouldn't the egret have a time with that one! Gingerly the fisherman climbed down the rocks to the river's edge, still reeling carefully. He caught the fish by the gills and climbed back up to the overlook. I nodded as he passed. Nice fish...a fine bass, probably 5 pounds or better. A few of those would make a nice mess for supper.
Thinking of supper made me hungry. From the picnic area I could smell hamburgers on a grill. With a sigh, I turned and walked back to the truck. I would visit the park and the dam again as Summer neared. It is fast becoming my favorite place to relax down here among the Georgia pines. ~~~StellaD