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    Up McHenry Creek Without a Paddle: The Bodacious Fishing Adventures of a Simple Man from Rural Arkansas
    Up McHenry Creek Without a Paddle: The Bodacious Fishing Adventures of a Simple Man from Rural Arkansas
    Up McHenry Creek Without a Paddle: The Bodacious Fishing Adventures of a Simple Man from Rural Arkansas
    Ebook100 pages1 hour

    Up McHenry Creek Without a Paddle: The Bodacious Fishing Adventures of a Simple Man from Rural Arkansas

    By Terry Bryant

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    About this ebook

    Every outdoorsman has had one or two misadventures. 

    Terry Bryant seems to have made a living of it! He has fallen out of a boat eleven times, lost the motor off the back of his boat four times, lost the boat off the trailer three times, has been bitten by a cotton mouth moccasin in 2015, fished part of a day with a lure hooked in his head, broken assorted bones while falling into and out of the boat, and he's had his head stuck in the mud at the bottom of a lake!

    Everyone that has included fishing trips as part of their lives can tell you a story about something that happened at some point during their experiences. Most times these are just funny situations that sprang up out of nowhere and gave us a humorous story to tell our friends and family.

    Terry has lived to tell nearly one hundred of these fishing and hunting adventure stories and his hope is that as you read, you will be able to believe that you are in the boat with him.

    Terry said, "Wherever I go, someone will ask me to tell them a fishing story. So I do. People kept telling me that I should write a book, so I did."

    This is a factual account of his outdoor life. In order for the adventure to continue, you need to start reading and I'll keep fishing. Or you can go along with me on my next trip. Bring a camera!
    (pssst, the password is 911)

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTerry Bryant
    Release dateMay 16, 2018
    ISBN9781540115553
    Up McHenry Creek Without a Paddle: The Bodacious Fishing Adventures of a Simple Man from Rural Arkansas

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      Book preview

      Up McHenry Creek Without a Paddle - Terry Bryant

      If you enjoy this book:

      Please consider checking out my latest title!

      Traveling for Terry Bryant is an unpredictable adventure...or misadventure rather.

      The business of training people on how to be safe in their work environment has taken him near and far. He has run the gamut in his attitude from being angry about the randomness of traveling to savoring the variety.

      At some point, among the urine-soaked mattresses, two to be exact, and unexpected naked ladies in his room, Terry found a way to experience joy in the unpredictable nature of air travel and budget motels.

      In addition, Terry has survived a knife fight, been detained at a military base, and managed to navigate an uncomfortable confrontation with a couple of booze-soaked honeymooners.

      Terry's stories both delight and empower. From the first chapter, you will gain a new, positive perspective from a man who turns the strife of life into a wild and exciting adventure.

      Do not miss these, and many more fun and hilarious stories courtesy of the simple man from rural Arkansas.

      Grab it on your favorite reading platform by clicking this link - http://mchenrycreekfishers.com/travelingmchenrycreek

      Preface

      Chapter 1 - The Beans Always Come Up (Karma)

      Chapter 2 - Has This Motor Been Underwater?

      Chapter 3 - The Trouble with Boat Trailers

      Chapter 4 -  The Art of Sculling (Paddling)

      Chapter 5 -  Terry the Safety Guy

      Chapter 6 - Dear Diary: Let’s Go Fishing

      Chapter 7 - High Water, Small Boats

      Chapter 8 - The Dogs of McHenry Creek (and One Pony)

      Chapter 9 - Man Overboard

      Chapter 10 - Snakes and Other Creepy Things

      Chapter 11 - About Swimming Pools

      The McHenry Creek Fishers Users Guide and Dictionary

      About the Author

      Preface

      Every outdoorsman has had one or two misadventures—I’ve made a living!

      I have:

      Fallen out of a boat eleven times. (Some caused visits to the ER.)

      Broken an arm falling into my boat. (January 2016)

      Broken an arm falling out of boat. (Young and stupid.)

      Broken ribs attempting to get to boat. (No comment.)

      Lost motor off the boat four times. (Uh, well, uh, you know.)

      Lost boat trailer from the truck multiple times. (In four different decades.)

      Had my head stuck in the mud at the bottom of a lake. (Don’t try it alone.)

      Fished all day with a lure stuck in my head. (You get used to it.)

      Bitten by a cottonmouth moccasin on one trip. (Yeah, that’s exciting.)

      Once paddled my boat with a hubcap. (Well, who hasn’t.)

      My first aid kit consists of duct tape! (Don’t leave home without it.)

      My bio reads as follows:

      Rushed to emergency room twenty times. (Zero car wrecks.)

      More than twenty broken bones. (All from fishing, hunting, and ball playing.)

      Over one hundred stitches. (Never been in a knife fight.)

      Multiple concussions. (Obviously.)

      One snake bite. (The devil was trying to kill me.)

      One wife. (And she’s getting tired of it.)

      Everything in the following account is true. But in order for this adventure to continue, you need to start reading, and I’ll keep fishing. Or you can go on a trip with me. Bring a camera!

      (Pssst, the password is 911!)

      * * * * *

      I’ve been a fisherman all my life. You know my type. Our favorite bumper sticker is Eat, Sleep, Go Fishin’. Our favorite button says, Bad day fishing is better than a good day at work. And then there is this ad, Wanted: New Wife with Boat and Motor. Please send picture of boat and motor. I’ve got it so bad that some Saturdays, I hook up to my boat knowing I’m not going fishing! I pull it to my office where I might just be catching up on a few things or working on this book or running a few errands. It just makes me feel good to be hooked up.

      Mid-February 2016

      My eighty-two-year-old dad: Did you catch any?

      Me: Haven’t been fishing.

      Dad: I saw you pulling your boat the other day.

      Me: I was catching up on some work at my office.

      Dad: Why would you hook up to your boat just to tow it around?

      Me: Makes me feel good.

      Dad: Are you stupid?

      Me: I don’t understand the question.

      Fishing is a disease that has afflicted my family for five generations now. My mom used fishhooks for diaper pins. Our dad whipped us with an old broken fishing rod. (They were always handy.) Most kids wanted toys for Christmas. My brothers and I were hoping for a small-lipped minnow lure, spinner bait, plastic worms, or some other fishing tackle to go after the many fish in McHenry Creek that were no match for us. I remember watching the Saturday Major League game of the week on TV with my grandfather. I would watch the baseball game, and he would doze on the couch. As he snored away, every once in a while, you could hear him talking in his sleep. Just broken sentences about bass or Shannon spinner or lunkers.

      I can still see my nephew at seven or eight years old, walking McHenry Creek next to my parents’ house the minute after he and his dad had returned from fishing all day at Maumelle or Harris Brake or some other lake where they had caught fish all day. He was possessed to catch a few more before it got too dark. The only e-mail address he has ever had is onemorecast@——. Twenty-five years later, his five-year-old son is showing signs of the illness already. (Hey, even our dog once caught a fish! See chapter 8.)

      I remember my first Zebco 33. Man, what a reel. A friend I fished with named mine ole grinder. Something to do with the sound it made during use. (Of course it sounded like that. It was worn out from catching so many fish.) He and I spent most every Saturday fishing McHenry or a few ponds in the area. I can still vividly remember grabbing our poles, jumping on our bikes, and pedaling as fast as we could to Mr. Young’s gate where we would throw down our bikes and run to the creek trying to catch the first one of the day. Fishing is a passion, and we had it bad. Little did I know that something so simple and harmless could end up in adventurous disasters.

      I have lived on McHenry Creek my entire life. In elementary school in the early sixties, my friends and brothers and I would ride bikes down the road from our house about a mile and walk the bank of McHenry for hours fishing. It was considered day care before we ever heard of the phrase.

      During my teen years, my folks built a house on the back of my great-grandparents’ old homeplace. At the very back of our three acres, McHenry Creek literally sprang up out of the ground. We could find old pieces of wooden barrel and piping where my great-granddad and his son, Uncle Heavy, would make moonshine beside the bubbling spring. One of our uncles had a bulldozer, and he and my dad dug out a small pond that we swam in and stocked with fish. It stayed clear due to the fact that McHenry began at the upper end of it and flowed through it.

      My parents bought a ten-acre plot and built a house on the bank of McHenry in the late seventies. It is a few miles downstream from our previous home. They still live there. Our grandparents even built a house across the road from McHenry Creek in the early sixties. When my wife and I got married, we rented a small trailer on the bank of McHenry. After a few years, we built a house on a hill and moved in, in 1986. In the winter, I can look out the kitchen window, down the hill, and see the bridge crossing McHenry that we travel every day. She even agreed that we might name our first son McHenry. We have two daughters, so I never found out. I even painted the words McHenry Creek on the side of my boat—by hand, of course. McHenry Creek is the main constant in my family’s existence.

      This

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