The waters were as clear as glass and the fish were as easily spooked as Barney Fife in a haunted house.

The creek, Wilson Creek, is a tributary of the James River in western Virginia, west and somewhat north of Roanoke. I started out without much hope of finding fish, since I understand that the last stocking in that area took place in April. However, just a few yards into my fishing trip I startled my first little trout, a native hiding behind a rock in the clear water.

I found out quickly that the fishing isn't always what one would expect. I soon came upon a small hole under a few trees where my fishing partner was frantically waving and pointing. The hole was brimming with trout, one of which was a real nice one, about 16 inches long. However, when I casted in front of him, he quickly maneuvered to the side, telling me that he was too smart for such tricks as the hook in the worm bit.

As I fished along, I found many little holes along the clear and rocky stream. I imagine that most of the streams in the mountains once were like this one, with clear water, tree-lined banks and no silt in the bottoms from cows tramping in and out and run-off from careless grading and farming. Not that I am perfect, I have also done my part to contribute to the problem. It just strikes you when you wade through a stream that is nearly perfect and unspoiled how far degraded some of our waters have become.

No matter, I still would prefer to fish here in Alleghany County than anywhere. It was just nice to go out and have a challenge of trying to catch natives in an area far from home.

Even though the temperature was in the 80s, the stream was still cold after flowing through the shaded forests of the park.

I still managed to take in my share of the fish, even though I had to readjust my strategies to account for the more wily natives.

The weather was a bit on the hot side for most of the time, but the inside of the cabin we stayed in was air conditioned. Imagine a cabin built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s, now fitted with central air, plumbing and electricity. The chestnut logs and handmade doors were real treasures to behold. Just seeing all that chestnut makes the heart ache for the trees that once covered our mountains and anually dropped forage along the forest floor. The door latches, hinges, knobs and catches were all hand carved. I was surprised that it had lasted so long, especially being used as a rental at a state park.

On the porch, a little phoebe had built a nest out of twigs and discarded fishing line, guarding her young from the unwelcome intruders. After an afternoon of fishing at the lake nearby, which proved generally useless, I got the opportunity to visit another area. About an hour away from the park I stayed at is very nice lake, called lake Moomaw. My friend and I rented a boat for $80 and spent the day traveling in and out of small coves dotted with standing trees that obviously died when the lake was created. The shorelines were devoid of development, as were most of the ridges and mountains around the lake. After seeing such areas as Lake Norman, the natural setting was more than welcome.

While no big fish were to be the prize on that day, more than ample action was provided by a multitude of sunfish and small bass.

I suppose I have a one-track mind, but if I go somewhere on vacation, I feel like I should either shoot something or pull something out of the water. If I can't do either, I might as well stay home.

Even though firearms were not part of the repetoir, my new trigger-cast reel was mostly accurate and my little collapsable pole proved up to the task. Not to mention the fact that it fit easily in the trunk with the other four hundred bags of stuff that no one needed.

The park also featured a couple of playgrounds, a sandy beach area with a diving board and a waterslide, and a large number of the most violent insects I have encountered in all my days.

I don't know what all attacked me, but my legs ended up looking like I had the measles and came down with the hives. The worst places weren't near the water, but in the cool and shady woods. The deet I applied barely seemed to slow the critters down. After literally putting a bug repellent lotion in my ear to ward off the hungry mosquitos, I eventually realized that as soon as the water washed away the deet, the bugs swarmed in for an attack. I suppose that explains the extra knobs on my knees.

Adding to the fun, I stepped into a large hole along side the trout stream and nearly broke a leg, leaving instead a big angry-looking purple contusion. I don't figure on wearing shorts again for a good while.

On the bright side, the trip home seemed all the more rapid since I knew the way and was doing the itchy scratchy on my knees and calves as we traveled along.

Maybe next time I decide to take a brief get-away I will look for a place without insects. I guess that leaves the two artic circles in the cold months to look forward to next time. Anything's better than another bug attack.

Get more tongue in cheek commentary this week's issue of the Alleghany News!

Email: allnews@ls.net