Monday trip to uncle joe's

Before his death last year, I would often visit my uncle Joe Eakin at his cabin on sixmile creek in Hancock county, just a little south of the small town of Charlottesville, which is on US 40. Uncle Joe and his family farmed this land in the Blue river valley since they came here in 1821. He had pretty much retired from farming, but the cabin was his man cave before there were man caves. I usually would go down US 36, another of my favorite roads to Mt Summit and Sparky!s Dog House to get a couple of his signature cooked in Beer ham sandwiches with hot pepper cheese. From there,I would go to ProvencePond, just outside town. There I ate my lunch while watching orioles and catbirds feasting on mulberries. Drifting down country roads through the historic town of Greensboro, I went into Knightstown to Liken's sawmill. There were lots of oak slabs, but the guys were busy moving some cherry logs around so I didn't pick anything up. I drifted over to Uncle Joe's cabin and fished the insignificant little stream known as Sixmile creek, a clearunning gravel bottomed stream that empties into Blue river. I started fishing there about five or six years ago. The deepest spot is probably three feet and the water is very clear. The biggest Smallmouth I have ever cought have come out of this little hole that is less than fifty square feet. Today was good. Caught a big rock bass on the first cast, second and third cast and eventually a smallmouth that would go probably three pounds, not the biggest, but enough to bring a great big smile to my face. I always threw the fish back, and I didn't have a digital camera back then, so uncle Joe was always skeptical that such big fish were coming out of this piddly little stream. He was usually there in the afternoons and we would drink a beer or two on his deck and he would hold forth about the current economical and political happenings. He was a financial genius, and made lots of money during his life with savvy investments, but he would still enjoy digging out an old fencepost. I miss him. On the way,going down 36 near Mechanicsburg, I saw a six foot Blacksnake on the road. To your average redneck tooling down the road in his diesel dualie, this snake would be an obvious target, so I turned around and stopped to get him off the road. I was able to slide him off the road with the edge of my foot. He coiled up, ready to strike, but despite several pushes, he never did strike. I was able to get some good photos. He probably would wind up back on the road as they like the heat from the blacktop, but I did what I could. I thought about catching him, but I didn't have anything to put him in.