“The Great White Fish Hunters”
It's hard to believe that we
have been here a year, but Crystal was told that she had to take her
first week of vacation
or loose it, so we made plans to go to Land Between the Lakes, which
stretches
from Western Kentucky down into Western Tennessee. We decided to camp
beside
Energy Lake, one of the smaller lakes off of Lake Barkley.
Energy Lake is a quiet lake that has a "no wake" policy; that means that boats must be small enough and slow enough that they do not disrupt this natural setting. We figured this would be the perfect place to escape from the chaos of I-65 and I-24, so we loaded our camping gear, our canoe, and Buddy (a used dog that we recently purchased), then headed for what we thought would be blissful solitude.
That was a fanciful assumption, which was soon dashed.
Upon arriving at Energy Lake, we found out that they were holding their Carp-o-ree, an annual event where avid archers use bows and arrows to remove the over abundant carp that populate this lake. At first, I had visions of men and women stalking these large fish along the banks of the lake, much like the stealthy Indians that once hunted along the Cumberland River.
That was another fanciful assumption that was quickly destroyed.
These mighty bow-fishers soon arrived, wearing Nascar sunglasses and various forms of camouflage clothing, while towing flat-bottom boats that were also adorned in camouflage. My first thought was that a camouflage boat might work well if it was in a marsh, but when they are in the middle of a lake they stand out like 64 square feet of flotsam... but what do I know? The one thing that I could not figure out was the purpose for the rows of halogen lights that were mounted to each side of these boats, but I figured I would find out the next morning. We prepared for a relaxing night, sleeping beside this quiet lake.
Another assumption that was wrecked like a ship on a reef.
It seems that people who hunt super-sized goldfish with bows and boats start "fishing" at 10 o'clock at night. And those halogen flood lights? Well, they are powered by noisy generators and used to light up the water as if the fishermen were performing some sort of underwater rescue or deep sea excavation. (But the fish couldn't see the boats because they're camouflaged... right?)
Then the well camouflaged, stealthy fisherman yell at each other over the din of generators.
"HEY... YOU SEE ANYTHING?"
"NOT YET!"
"LET'S MOVE FURTHER UP THE LAKE!"
"YEAH... THEY'RE PROB'LY UP THERE!"
Abandoning all hope of getting any sleep, I got up and went to the shower house, but even there I could not escape from reminders of the carp-hunters. Not only do they leave behind litter, they are too preoccupied with thoughts of skewering the ultimate carp to pick up their own shampoo. I read the label on one bottle, which claimed that the contents were a "natural and biodegradable formula designed to remove human scent from skin and hairs." I'm sorry, but if your body odor is so bad that it would scare off a carp, then you need to see a doctor.
Daylight did not bring much relief, as others joined the fray. Thankfully, a boat known as "The Swamp Thang" was relegated to staying on Lake Barkley. This was a flat-bottom boat that had been fitted with a 5 foot wide fan, which was powered by a Chevrolet V-8 that did not have any mufflers. I don't know if that guy caught any fish, but he sure impressed the other guys... and that's very important to people who think that camouflage pants and a black T-shirt qualify as a matching ensemble.
The rain moved in on the second night, and the great, white, fish hunters retreated to the safety of their beer coolers. (They'll drag a nasty smelling carp that is spewing blood and guts from an arrow wound into their boat, but they don't want any rain inside their boat. That would ruin the interior... right?) Crystal and I finally fell asleep, surrounded by the restful sound of rain drops on our tent. Buddy laid down beside us, content that he no longer had to defend the campsite from this strange tribe of Neo-Neanderthal hunters.
After the Great Carp-o-ree of 2002 had ended, we hopped in our canoe and paddled to the far end of Energy Lake. The water was rising because of the recent rains, and the carp were happily thrashing about in the grass that was now underwater. Lots of carp! We quit counting after we passed a dozen, but I would estimate that there were over two dozen splashing around on 50 yards of shore line. Apparently, the carp are smarter than the carp hunters.
I think that assumption that will probably survive.
© 2002 Douglas Shaw.Energy Lake is a quiet lake that has a "no wake" policy; that means that boats must be small enough and slow enough that they do not disrupt this natural setting. We figured this would be the perfect place to escape from the chaos of I-65 and I-24, so we loaded our camping gear, our canoe, and Buddy (a used dog that we recently purchased), then headed for what we thought would be blissful solitude.
That was a fanciful assumption, which was soon dashed.
Upon arriving at Energy Lake, we found out that they were holding their Carp-o-ree, an annual event where avid archers use bows and arrows to remove the over abundant carp that populate this lake. At first, I had visions of men and women stalking these large fish along the banks of the lake, much like the stealthy Indians that once hunted along the Cumberland River.
That was another fanciful assumption that was quickly destroyed.
These mighty bow-fishers soon arrived, wearing Nascar sunglasses and various forms of camouflage clothing, while towing flat-bottom boats that were also adorned in camouflage. My first thought was that a camouflage boat might work well if it was in a marsh, but when they are in the middle of a lake they stand out like 64 square feet of flotsam... but what do I know? The one thing that I could not figure out was the purpose for the rows of halogen lights that were mounted to each side of these boats, but I figured I would find out the next morning. We prepared for a relaxing night, sleeping beside this quiet lake.
Another assumption that was wrecked like a ship on a reef.
It seems that people who hunt super-sized goldfish with bows and boats start "fishing" at 10 o'clock at night. And those halogen flood lights? Well, they are powered by noisy generators and used to light up the water as if the fishermen were performing some sort of underwater rescue or deep sea excavation. (But the fish couldn't see the boats because they're camouflaged... right?)
Then the well camouflaged, stealthy fisherman yell at each other over the din of generators.
"HEY... YOU SEE ANYTHING?"
"NOT YET!"
"LET'S MOVE FURTHER UP THE LAKE!"
"YEAH... THEY'RE PROB'LY UP THERE!"
Abandoning all hope of getting any sleep, I got up and went to the shower house, but even there I could not escape from reminders of the carp-hunters. Not only do they leave behind litter, they are too preoccupied with thoughts of skewering the ultimate carp to pick up their own shampoo. I read the label on one bottle, which claimed that the contents were a "natural and biodegradable formula designed to remove human scent from skin and hairs." I'm sorry, but if your body odor is so bad that it would scare off a carp, then you need to see a doctor.
Daylight did not bring much relief, as others joined the fray. Thankfully, a boat known as "The Swamp Thang" was relegated to staying on Lake Barkley. This was a flat-bottom boat that had been fitted with a 5 foot wide fan, which was powered by a Chevrolet V-8 that did not have any mufflers. I don't know if that guy caught any fish, but he sure impressed the other guys... and that's very important to people who think that camouflage pants and a black T-shirt qualify as a matching ensemble.
The rain moved in on the second night, and the great, white, fish hunters retreated to the safety of their beer coolers. (They'll drag a nasty smelling carp that is spewing blood and guts from an arrow wound into their boat, but they don't want any rain inside their boat. That would ruin the interior... right?) Crystal and I finally fell asleep, surrounded by the restful sound of rain drops on our tent. Buddy laid down beside us, content that he no longer had to defend the campsite from this strange tribe of Neo-Neanderthal hunters.
After the Great Carp-o-ree of 2002 had ended, we hopped in our canoe and paddled to the far end of Energy Lake. The water was rising because of the recent rains, and the carp were happily thrashing about in the grass that was now underwater. Lots of carp! We quit counting after we passed a dozen, but I would estimate that there were over two dozen splashing around on 50 yards of shore line. Apparently, the carp are smarter than the carp hunters.
I think that assumption that will probably survive.
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