The importance of youth. And a story from James

One thing is certain, you can never be as young as yesterday no matter how young you feel today. When the Coosa Valley Chapter came into existence in August, 37 years ago, I had just turned 37. Do the math and you will see that I will turn 74 just before our chapter’s anniversary.

Most charter members of the chapter were in their 30s with some in their 50s or older. Yes, we were a youthful chapter with lots of energy and a desire to get out there and improve our streams and make trout fishing better for everyone. We still have that same burning desire of the past, but we are running out of energy.

Many of our charter members are still active and attend meetings. Some of our original members are now fishing for trout on some heavenly stream in the sky. The biggest issue is that we lost our youthfulness.

Ask almost anyone over 65 about retirement and most will say, “I just wish I had the energy to enjoy retirement.” Twenty years ago I was still able to work in a stream with little fear of falling. I was still steady on my feet even on slippery rocks. Just like everyone, I got old. I still fish, but I end up somewhere between tired or wet.

Many of our most active members are also old. I have to put a little of the blame on some members of the chapter for the lack of young members. They should bring someone young with them to our meetings — and by young, 40s is young in my book.

When I was married I brought my wife’s kids to meetings and workdays. Since a divorce and my ex moving out of state, I rarely see the boys. Almost all of our older members have children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews. Why do we never see these young folks? Are the kids scared of water or fish? We need to find out why.

We have many Trout Unlimited members who care deeply about the goals of TU that we rarely see. We would love to see these members once in a while at our meetings and it would be great if they brought some of their children or other young relatives along, just to let them know that TU is there for them and their other youthful friends. These younger folks are future conservationists that can carry on the goals of TU.

TU’s Headwaters Youth Program is a sequential set of programs called the Stream of Engagement that enable TU chapters to work with youth of many ages and demographics, both in the classroom and in the field. Bottom line, we need more youth, whether they are 13 or 33.

RAINING TROUT BY (A YOUNG) JAMES PAYNE

It was raining trout like manna from heaven. As we looked up it seemed the sky was full of them, and they plopped down in the river in front of our eyes.

My good friends Russ Ost and Larry Davis and I were on our annual pilgrimage to the West Fork of the Chattooga River in Rabun County. We were probably 17. It was a different

time. Looking back, I can’t believe our parents would let us make such a journey.

It was a 5- hour drive from Rome to the West Fork in the days before freeways. We packed my 1970 Maverick full of our army surplus camping equipment and food. It wasn’t easy.

Larry Davis was known as “Big Davis,” for good reason. He was big and took up a lot of space in the car and the tent. Fortunately for us, he was also good natured and let our verbal banter go unpunished.

We were standing under a Forest Service road bridge and having no luck catching trout. We heard a truck on the bridge but never dreamed it was the DNR. Our luck and fishing skills improved immediately. They dumped net after net of trout right in front of us. In fact, if we had been standing a little farther from the bridge, we would have been smacked on the head by free- falling fish. It was truly manna from heaven.

There were no instructions from the Good Lord on how to harvest the manna, so we immediately began catching those fish and stuffing them in our creels. We did, however, abide by the laws of the State of Georgia and kept to our daily limit.

After the carnage we climbed back onto the bridge. Standing there was our mentor (and guardian) the Rev. Ralph Broome. He was a state trooper turned Methodist minister whom I’m sure had promised our parents to check on us. Conveniently, he had a church on Warwoman Road near the river.

It always seemed to me a little suspicious that a minister was involved with this providential trout manna. Did he have something to do with the DNR stocking that particular spot on that particular day or did the Good Lord just bless his servant, the Rev. Broome, and provide sustenance to his chosen people (us)?

I may never know, but it warms my heart to imagine that Ralph Broome is smiling down from heaven as I write this memory.