Fishing Lechewuekink

As I left behind the highway and work day to wind along the scenic and calming roads through the mountains into Lehighton, I was reminded of the feelings I had when I first visited Jim Thorpe, a town not far from the destination where I would meet Joan Hackmann-Gaul.

I remember while in Jim Thorpe experiencing a conflict of emotions – the joy of the scenery combined with the heartache of the Molly Maguire coal-mining stories. Wondering what life was like for the coal-mining communities living along the Lehigh. You can feel the weight of its history.

Joan and I arrived at Lehighton and enjoyed an overdue get-together, glass of wine and dinner right next door to our accommodations. Then it was time to organize the flies. I am for-ever strategizing as to how to organize those doggone flies!!!

Next morning after a surprisingly rich selection of complimentary breakfast, we were off to meet our guide. Charlie set us up for the float, and off we went.

I looked up that "Lehigh" is an Anglicization of the Lenape name for the river --"Lechewuekink." (Anyone want to pronounce that?) It means "where there are forks." Having never floated, let alone floated along the Lehigh, I would later learn that indeed, the Lehigh has many forks (also many rocks and many fish!!!)

While there was some fish activity late in the morning when we started, it wasn‘t until more into the afternoon that the action started to pick up. I had a heart-stopping huge fish whip around and grab my fly. The three of us WHOOPED and we set our strategy on that one, but it was too smart to stick around.

We meandered down some beautiful stretches of the river, lovely skies and again my sensing the spirit of the people who lived hard lives off in the distance. As the fish became a bit more active, Joan and I had anticipated that perhaps our fish was close at hand.

Then I heard a rumble. As my mind had been wandering over the area‘s history, I thought at first I might have been imagining the coal carts going up a mountain…or perhaps a train in the distance. A little more casting, a little more fish activity, and a little more rumbling, "Wow, those trucks on the highway are making quite an echo."

Ahead of us, sunny skies, but I thought to look behind us. WHOAH!...incredibly dark skies and flashes of lightning upstream in the distance. As Charlie realized we had to get to our destination quickly, the mad paddling began. Joan and I soon realized we were much further from our destination than we knew. For 30 minutes, and for what felt like something out of a movie scene, our poor guide navigated through "Lechewuekink" And yes, at every bend it became clear there was a whole 'nother stretch of water and rocks to get through. "Look for the bridge" yelled Charlie. "We‘re looking, but it‘s never there!" "Look at the fish jumping out of the water!" "Oh man, IGNORE those fish jumping!" It was if those fish were taunting, "I see you have to get to the bridge, but look, I am right here!"

Charlie kept that storm at bay right up until the end when the downpour came and we safely got off the water and undercover from the storm. What a day!

Join me as I look forward to trying a version of this trip again – I think the lessons are – fish jump later in the day this time of year. Let‘s go back for those fish who thought they had me beat!

—Nancy Keyak Simpson—
Summer 2010 Issue