When I bought the airline tickets to Atlanta I was not exactly sold on the trip. However; my wonderful bride, Liz, was really looking forward to visiting all the Civil War battlefields from Georgia to Virginia. She is a history buff with a serious interest in, “The War of Northern Aggression”, as some southerners refer to it.

             Don’t get me wrong, though I like old timey stuff as much as the next Trout bum and a road trip is always to be savored.

            About the time I realized she was out of the deciding stage and on to the get the airplane ticket stage I emailed a client and friend, Steve Philips who lives in North Carolina. Steve has business in Seattle a week a year and always spends day fishing with me.

             To say Steve exudes Southern charm would be an insult the folks that brought him up. He is truly a Southern gentleman.

             All I wrote was” What are the chances you could get us a Redfish guide out of Charleston on October 13”, I received a one word e-mail: DONE, with his cell number.          That is what I like about the few Southerners I have known; they are either in or out, never “Let me check my Blackberry and I’ll get back to you”, or some other weak kneed excuse.  

            The first full day of our road trip took us to Savanna Georgia, where we hired a carriage tour of the old city, the weather was warm and our guide was fabulous. Savanna was established in 1733 and was designed on a square matrix with small shady parks every other block full of ancient oak trees draped with Spanish moss and a lot of statues of guys on horseback.

            The highlight for me was seeing the bench where Forrest Gump was filmed waiting for the bus with his box of chocolates.

            We had planned to go to Paula Deen’s restaurant for supper (and a stick of butter) but found our selves out on Tybee Island at suppertime. We actually ate at Bubba Deens, Paula’s brother’s restaurant. I know, it’s confusing, ya’ all.

            By the time we arrived and toured   Charleston South Carolina for a couple days I had seen a seen a lifetimes worth of OLD TIMEY. I mean it is inspiring to say the least, standing on a porch where General Washington once made a speech, but I needed a day off. 

            When Steve picked me up at 9:00 the next morning, the plan was to have breakfast and meet up with our guide at 11:30 at the Isle of Palms marina.  But there was a marathon race going on as we crossed the bridge to Sullivan’s Island. By the time we finally got to the restaurant many of the runners were already inside drinking Bloody Marys.

            These are my kind of health nuts. It was so NOT West Coast; you have got to love these people.

            We arrived at the marina in plenty of time to meet our guide, Zack. He was about thirty five looking to be twenty. What is it about fishing guides? Cut the Hollywood ponytail, Zen Master, hillbilly guide routine, were here to go fishin’.

 And fish we did.

            Zack worked out of a beautiful Hells-Bay flats skiff with a 60 horse Yamaha and with a turn of the key we were flying out of the marina and through the saw grass channels of the inland waterway.

            The conditions were perfect, about 85 degrees, no wind and a dropping tide. The oyster beds were coming up fast in the lowering water like black islands and the baitfish were boiling all around us. Zack cut the motor and polled into a saw grass cove about 20 inches deep.

            The water color is a light brown so you have to see either the tails or the wake of the Redfish; truth is I couldn’t see either at first.    

            The trick is to get the boat stationed within casting distance without spooking the Redfish while they are busy churning up the mud bottom looking for shrimp. Then you calculate your cast with a shrimp imitation to drop in just above and beside the feeding fish and start stripping the line.

            Well, that all sounds very straight forward in concept, but these Redfish were really spooky. During the course of the afternoon we blew several excellent chances, I think I heard Zack talking to himself a little bit, something about a blind squirrel and an acorn.   

            Zack turned out to be an excellent guide, as with all guiding his job is to simply provide opportunity, Steve and I had to make the argument.

            Steve, Zack and I had a great afternoon catching Redfish and finding some common ground; north or south east or west. 

             It’s never really about the fishing, is it?