Fishing
Cumberland Valley, Pennsylvania, where Whistlestop Bookshop is situated, is generously watered and drained by creeks renowned for their fishing. Conodoguinet Creek, which flows about 100 miles to the Susquehanna River and is nearest to Carlisle, is actually better known for the fishing in its two tributaries, Big Spring Creek out of the Newville area (only 5 miles) and Letort Spring Run, which arises south of Carlisle and flows north 9 miles to the Conodoguinet. The Yellow Breeches Creek, which flows along South Mountain for 56 miles to the Susquehanna, is internationally famous for its trout fishing.
Naturally, a trout-fishing and especially a fly-fishing culture has developed, sometimes thought to be mostly local, sometimes acknowledged to be of world interest — the world that loves the quiet and focus and solitary rewards of fly-fishing. Rarely, the local zen masters of fishing wrote books. Charlie Fox was once a customer of Whistlestop, and Joe Humphreys is still in print and in fact the subject of a documentary we carry. Fishing does inspire fine writing, after all — the names of Izaak Walton, Norman MacLean, Thomas McGuane, Patrick McManus, John Gierach suggest the range of approaches in writing about “standing in a river waving a stick,” to use Gierach’s famous descripton.
Dedicated to the memory of a great fisherman and an even better brother, Gordon Wood (1956-2020).
On the Spine of Time: A Flyfisher's Journey Among Mountain People, Streams & Trout
On the Spine of Time: A Flyfisher's Journey Among Mountain People, Streams & Trout
This powerful story of one angler's adventures in the Great Smoky Mountains is a descent into wildness, a meditation on the landscape bathed in greenness and truth, and the discovery of a people living -- on the spine of time.
From the solace of mountain streams to the frenetic bustle of Gatlinburg, one of Tennessee's great tourist towns, this memorable journey summons readers to confront the joys and sorrows of life through a new understanding of our place in nature and its process.
Harry Middleton had to endure hardships to find the queen mother of all trout streams in the heart of the Great Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. He had to live through treacherous mountain roads, the cloud of airborne industrial toxins that shrouds the range for most of the year, an occasional blast of lightning, and, worst of all, a helping of rancid potato salad at a roadside diner. Like Norman MacLean in "A River Runs Through It," Middleton makes fly-fishing a religion with its own vision of nirvana, and if it takes an occasional descent into the nether regions to attain it, the author isn't afraid to supply the grisly details. This graceful, funny memoir belongs in every angler's library.