2007 Soque River Cleanup - Photo

Submitted by: Amber Jensen

Memories of my Days on the Soque

Submitted by: Helen Addis Chitwood

I lived on, or around the Soque most of my life. Both of my parents, Jim and Myrtle Addis, retired after over forty years of service to the Mill. Daddy worked for the power plant and Mama worked for the Mill. My brother Jim and sister Frances also worked for the Mill. I remember that every day after school I would go up to the power plant to see daddy. He would let me fish out the power plant window, or I would play on the shoals in front of the plant.

It does scare me to think now of all the dangerous things I did around the river. I didn’t know how to swim, but that didn’t stop me. I remember when the bridges washed out after a big storm. We lived across the river from the mill at that time. Daddy had to cross the river with a boat and pulley system. He always told me not to cross alone. So naturally I wanted to go to the mill store and set across the river by myself. As I was pulling myself across the cable jumped out of the pulley and I became stranded. Luckily a man that worked for the Mill saw me and came to my rescue. He fixed the cable and got me safely to shore, and then told my daddy what I had done, which was no fun at all.

Another memory I have is of walking across the lower part of the dam when the water wasn’t running over. I never thought about what would happen if they opened the gates one day while I was on the dam. I never told anyone either (especially daddy) about where I was or what I was doing. The only people that knew at the time were my friends who had tagged along. In fact daddy never found out that I did that in fear that he might still spank me, but I did eventually tell mama, about thirty years later.

I have so many great stories and memories from my childhood river days that could fill a book. I am so proud to say that I lived in the mill village of Habersham, and I am forever grateful of my time on the river. But guess what? I still never learned to swim!

Historic Soquee Photos

Submitted by: Helen Chitwood

The river gave life to Habersham Mills and in turn the Mill families brought life to the river. Here are some photos of life at Habersham Mills along the Soque River in the 1940's.

Story of Soquee Flood of 1949

Submitted by: Florence Wikle

In June, 1949 the paradise that five very happy children enjoyed beyond comprehension was destroyed.

The winter of 1948 had been extremely rainy. This continued into the month of June of 1949. As the ground became more and more saturated with water there was nowhere for it to go but into the streams. Located in the Batesville community was a dam used by the Wikle family for a source of electrical power for the family houses and businesses. This dam was located on Raper Creek which flowed in into the Soque River. There was also another dam located on the Ernest Nash property which was located on Shoal Creek, which ran into the Soque River, below the dam which belonged to the Wikle family.

I remember it had rained almost continuously for about two weeks, most of the time in torrential downpours. I remember my mother washing our clothes and then having to hang them on the porch and all over the house rather than hanging them outside to dry. I am sure at this point in her life she must have prayed every night for it to stop raining so she could get us five kids out of the house and out from under her feet. My mother was not the only one feeling frustrated, we kids needed and wanted to get outside. We were so used to playing in our beautiful woods and in the gorgeous Soque River just being inside was sheer torture. For a kid, this home and its surroundings was sheer paradise. Over the years the land around our house had flooded leaving beautiful sand all along the river, just perfect to take a running jump down the bank and into the Soque River. It was also the perfect place to do our night fishing with Mr. Otto Fricks. My brother, Willard and I would go with Mr. Fricks, sit on that lovely sand, set out lines, lean back and hope to catch some kind of fish, we were not particular about the kind of fish we caught since we never kept the fish, just threw them back.

Our father operated what was known as the lower plant. It was one of two power plants used to generate power for Habersham Mills and the village. As you came down the narrow road that led to the plant and our house, you first came to the lower dam, below the dam was located the power plant and then beyond that our house, barn, etc. The charm of this place was our swimming hole which was located behind the plant. It was just at the bottom of the dam on the shoals and went from very shallow to about six feet deep. Perfect for our ages! We also had a beach where you could build sand castles and have all manner of fun. This was sort of like living in a resort with something to do every season. In the summer we had the river and all the fun you could possibly have there and the glorious woods and hills to play in the winter and fall. I also think one of the nicest things about living so close to the river was the sound of the Soque cascading over the dam and onto the rocks. This is the sound that will always remind me of my childhood and is responsible for my home I live in today, being located on Hazel Creek in Demorest where I hear this delightful sound every day.

The Soque is a gorgeous river which most of the time is very placid except in the areas where there are mild shoals, but on this particular June night it was running strong and wild. We had gone out during the day to watch the water as it rushed over the dam. It was very exciting to watch, never thinking in a million years what lay ahead of us.

That morning around two o’clock we heard a great commotion, my father, along with several men from the village came into the house and began getting us out of our beds and out of the house as quickly as possible. We all had on our pajamas and I remember whoever took me out put a quilt over me to keep off the rain. As we started out the water was rising fast. The thing I remember the most about that night was the fact that when we had been flooded before, which was two times, the water had never been so rushing and wild. My parents had time to remove or put our furniture on blocks and save the furniture before, but this time it was very different, as I have state, the water was coming up so fast that I knew this time it was much, much more serious than the other two times we were flooded.

I did not find out until the next morning what had actually happened. My mother came by the C. Moss house, where I was staying, and told us the dam at the Wikle property on Raper creek and broken due to debris and the over abundance of water, which in turn caused the dam at the Nash property to break and flow into the Soque creating havoc on our home and the power plants. My mother did not want us to see what was going on at the house, but she finally relented and let us go with her to the house. It was a real shock. I remember standing up on the hill above the house and looking down on the house and all I could see was a part of the roof. My father was going to build some chicken houses out in the pasture and had lumber stacked up drying for that purpose. This lumber was floating everywhere and Boots and Reeves Hill were swimming around the house trying to save anything that was salvageable from livestock to household items. Nothing much was salvaged except my mother’s sewing machine and one chair from our dining room suite. All our clothes, toys, furniture was gone. To us, was the horrible realization that we would never again get to live in our paradise. We were all absolutely devastated. It was a long, long time before I could go back and look at what was once a child’s very large playground, but go I did. Today even though our modest little cottage no longer exists, I still have those very wonderful memories that do not fade nor can anyone take away from me and the beautiful Soque flows as beautifully as ever.

A remembrance by: Florence Wikle

Soque River Drawings

Submitted by: Asher Samsel (10 years old)

"Got Ya!"

"This is a picture of some fisherman fishing at the Soque River. He cast next to a rock and reeled in a 3-pound trout."

"Getting Ready"

"This is a picture of someone getting ready to go fishing. I used colored pencils in this picture. My dad is a fishing writer, and he gave me advice about how to make the fishing equipment look."

"Maybe"

"This is a picture of a fly fisherman, and he's trying to catch a huge rainbow trout that he saw earlier in the day. Maybe he will, maybe he won't. Let's hope he will."

"There's One"

"This is a picture of my dad holding a rainbow trout. My dad makes baits out of feathers and wool, and he caught this fish on a bait that he made with the wool of our dog."

"In Search of the Soquee" - Story

Submitted by: E. Lane Gresham

Part One

I fell head over heels on Valentine’s Day ­- right over the edge of Tray Mountain and into the wilderness. It all started innocently enough with a simple query:  “where does the Soquee River begin?” Researching an article about The Soquee River for the Hello Habersham magazine, I wondered if there was a photo of the source of the river that streams through Habersham County.

After several exchanges with Duncan Hughes at the Soquee River Watershed Association, I realized there were conflicting opinions as to the definitive source of the beloved waterway. There are two forks of the upper Soquee - a right and a left. Several prongs feed into those forks and several theories exist about the specific location. That didn’t satisfy me - my journalistic integrity was on the line. I couldn’t take a photo of just any spot - it had to be the spot.

Duncan kindly offered to check with friends at the Georgia Dept. of Natural Resources and Lee Keefer, fisheries biologist at the Lake Burton Hatchery agreed to help us pinpoint the source. A flurry of e-mails ensued, consensus was reached and an expedition was mounted. The plan was to seek out the middle prong of the left fork as this was determined to be the highest elevation source of water. The topographical maps show the middle prong emerging from the side of Tray Mountain deep in the Chattahoochee National Forest.

Duncan extended an invitation to SRWA’s board members to join the quest and a diverse group of eight would-be explorers gathered early on Valentine’s Day 2008. The most direct route was not necessarily going to be the easiest hike - we had to hike up Tray Mountain to get to the closest jumping off point. The temperature was a frigid 25 degrees but the day dawned clear and sunny. Mother Nature put on her winter finery for us - a light snow fell the night before and the trees glittered with frozen dew and ice. After bumping up six miles on a rough gravel road, we reached the end of the line as far as vehicles go. Tumbling out of the car and slipping on a backpack filled with the all-important camera, tripod and a water bottle, I was eager to attack the just over one half-mile journey to the top of the world.

Our friend from the DNR, Lee and his colleague, Leon Brotherton came prepared. As we stood shivering in the early morning sunlight, Leon asked: “Are there any medical conditions we should know about?” He then pulled a first aid pack out of the truck; I suddenly realized this trek was not going to be a simple hike. I took a big mental gulp and started off.

Duncan brought along his nimble 8-year-old daughter, Elizabeth and she led the charge up the zigzagging trail heading to the top of peak. The higher elevation made the hike an unexpected challenge. At 4,400 feet, Tray Mountain is the seventh highest mountain in the state. Chugging through the thin air quickly reminded me that my winter hiatus from exercise was going to hinder my efforts to get anywhere in a hurry. I slowed my pace and looked around in wonder - the stark beauty of the winter forest surrounded me. Pondering the parallels of the journey that day with the journey we call life, I felt the stress slip away and I was able to breathe - not deeply, mind you but in a figurative sense. Mental breaths, deep, cleansing mental breaths. The path continued ever upward until the trees opened up at the summit and the blue sky beckoned us to cast our eyes to the 360 degree view of Northeast Georgia.

The satisfaction of reaching the top was short-lived as our energetic DNR experts said it was time to take the next step and this time we would be flying blind. A short trail protected by a canopy of twisted mountain laurel summoned us down the aisle of nature’s cathedral. The flattened evergreen leaves were like hands folded in prayer = a reminder that prayer would be a prudent idea before taking the leap into the uncharted dense forest heading straight down.

Lee and Leon didn’t seem apprehensive at all - they had done this all before. However, I don’t think they counted on dealing with an unprepared and naive reporter doggedly pursuing a photo opportunity. They were good sports about it all and were determined to keep us safe. I cautiously peered over the edge of the cliff and looked down.

Would this intrepid group of river lovers find the water? Would they make it back in time for parent pick-up? Watch for Part Two in an upcoming edition.

In search of the Soquee-Part Two

"Brown Trout" - Fish Art

Submitted by: Sarah Samsel

This picture is made of: hydrangea, red pepper, cinnamon, turmeric, yarrow, bark, money plant, aucuba, cosmos, maple, onion, viola, seaweed, cotton, gray poplar, creeping raspberry and poinsettia.  

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My thoughts: Of the three kinds of trout that are prevalent in the Southeast, the brown trout is Dad’s favorite. He believes fooling them is more of a game, which makes each one caught more of a prize. He also likes the way they look and says he likes their personality, although I’m not sure exactly what that means.

Although I’m Jeff Samsel’s daughter, I don’t really get into fishing. However, trout are probably my very favorite thing to make from pressed flowers. I enjoy the process of finding leaves and petals that match the colors of the fish and then figuring out how to blend those colors together. The only non-botanical thing in this picture is my signature. The rest of the black lines are made from strands of seaweed. 

"Soquee Rainbow" - Fish Art

Submitted by: Sarah Samsel

This picture is made of: hydrangea, cinnamon, orange peel, turmeric, yarrow, cornsilk, grass, seaweed, mulberry, money plant, cotton, bloody dock, poinsettia, aucuba, birch, basil and hornet's nest.

My Thoughts: I had no expectation of winning, but I figured that it was still worth entering a picture for the chance of it being chosen as the 2014 Hello Habersham magazine cover. I had complicated ideas about what sort of picture I might enter until my mom suggested that I simply make a fish. It would fit the local theme of the contest since the fish could be a rainbow trout. 

Rainbow trout live in the Soquee River—the only river that begins and ends in Habersham County. I also liked the idea because if I won I’d have a fish on the cover of a magazine, like my dad does. Dad is a freelance fishing writer and photographer so he’s had lots of (non-pressed-flower) fish on the covers of magazines. So I began snipping and gluing trout-colored leaves.

John Kollock was a well known and loved local artist. He was dedicated to preserving our region’s history through his many watercolor paintings. Mr. Kollock and his wife Nancy Kollock were (she still is) extremely supportive of my business in many ways. One wonderful thing that Mr. Kollock did was welcome me to show him whatever pictures I was having problems with or simply wanted his opinion on. I wanted to show him my trout before I entered it into the contest. He really, really wanted it to win. That was my last picture that I ever showed him.

When news reached me that I’d won the contest I could hardly believe it! It was such exciting news on such a very hard day—the day that Mr. Kollock passed away. I don’t know if Mr. Kollock was well enough to understand the news but Mrs. Kollock said that she thinks that she saw a small smile when she told him.

Usually Soque is spelled with one “e” but Mr. Kollock insisted that it should be spelled with two so I did so in honor of him. I wasn’t aware that he’d resolved that Soquee should be spelled that way when I first titled the picture, so in the magazine it just has one “e” but now I use two J.

"Me and the Soque" - A Story

Submitted by:  Brooks Garcia

My story began a long time ago when I was a young man and the Soquee did not have the notoriety it has today. I was a camp counselor at Camp Cherokee for boys on Lake Burton in the early 80s.  At the time, there was a camper whose grandmother own land at the end of Goshen Valley. Her name was Hellen Carmack. The ‘mighty’ Soquee was but a small stream that came off the mountain way back on her property. We would take the boys ‘over nighting’ there.  We swam in the icy cold stream and I taught the boys to fish with a crude line and pole using wood roaches as bait and a dog hobble twig as a bobber. We dined on fresh trout and marveled at the fox fire in the woods at night. That place touched my soul in a way I have never forgotten so much so I have returned 30 years later, bought land and plan to live out my days here in the mountains. It seems a bit of a surprise but not so much to me that my land has two small streams that feed into to Lake Habersham and into the Soquee. So, you see I have come home and me and the Soquee are inextricably tied together.

"Buckets of Soque" - Kid's Art

Submitted By: Autumn Samsel (7 years old)

"Why I did it is I like Indians and I just really wanted to do it because there was an Indian village around the Soquee River."  

~ Autumn Samsel

"Places of Solitude" - Photo

Submitted by:  Tammy Cline

"I've always enjoyed the quiet sections of the river. Places of solitude and reflection. That's why I chose this image - for its reflections and colors. To me, as an artist, it represents the metaphor of the river and life."

~Tammy Cline

Have you Seen This Fish? - Photo

Submitted by:  Steven Patrick

Steven Patrick, Habersham County Extension Agent, is interested in studying the range of shoal bass on the Soque.  He wants to know "Have you seen a fish like this on the Soque? If so, email stevenp@uga.edu."

Learning to Road Bike Along the Soque - A Story

Submitted by: Scarlett Fuller

Biker Chic Buddies: (left to right) Christie Stegall, Scarlett Fuller & Mary Katherine Crews

Neals Gap - Mtn Crossing

I learned to bike along the Soque...road bike that is.  Anyone who has ever learned to road bike knows, it is a learning process. For my graduation present from graduate school at UGA I received a brand new road bike from Habersham Bicycles. I was already a regular mountain biker, but had been wanting to get into road biking for some time. My maiden voyage ended with a crash and bent handlebars due to forgetting to clip out of my pedals in time. This is NOT second nature and is a learned repetitive behavior one has to remember when first starting to road bike. Being all fired up about road biking, I signed myself and a friend up for 6 Gap Century ride held each September in Dahlonega, GA. Except, they have a half-century called 3 Gap which is the one we opted for. Still...a 58 mile bike ride across Neal, Wolf Pen and Woody Gaps is no easy feat...so the training began. My training ground for this ride, as well as just learning to ride period was scenic Hwy 197. Three days a week, my biking buddies (there's safety in numbers, right??) and I would head out from the Clarkesville Mill down 197. Let me back up and also note, the FIRST time you ever road bike, well frankly you hate it and think to yourself, "Why would I EVER do that AGAIN??!" You must get use to sharing the road with sometimes not so generous drivers. You have to watch out for ANYTHING on the road that might cause those skinny little tires to flip right out from under you. Unless you ride about 75-100 miles a week your leg muscles burn so badly and your breathing is so out of control you think you are about to have a stroke and heart attack all at the same time. So went my first, second and third road biking experiences. This is where the Soque River comes in. Each week we would push ourselves a little further and a little harder. Once we were finally able to climb the beast of a hill at Soque Wilderness subdivision to the top at Lovell Properties office, WOW were we in for a treat of down, down, downhill all the way to Turner's property and the "dip" to our reward along the Soque. Imagine early summer mornings with fresh mountain air, no traffic and the rushing Soque flowing past as you leisurely pedal down the road. This began my love affair with road biking along the Soque River. I fell in love with this stretch of the road and river, and it made all the effort to get to this point worth it. The Soque was my inspiration each trip to make it over the tough hill climbs, scary drivers and sometimes inclement weather (those skinny tires and oily roads do NOT mix). Believe it or not, this 15 mile out and back stretch (30+ miles round trip) was excellent training for our 3 Gap ride that September. Did I make the grueling 58 mile mountain ride...yes!  All thanks to my training along the Soque. 

Snapping Turtle on the Soque - Photo

Submitted by: Lisa Staggers

I work at Mark of the Potter on Highway 197N. This past spring one of our elusive snapping turtles put in several appearances over the course of a week. I managed to get several photos of it before it took back off to the depths of the river. These are a few of my favorites.

 

"Demorest, 1900" - John Kollock Art

Shared by: Nancy Kollock

"Fur Traders at Soque Village, 1750" - John Kollock Art

Shared by: Nancy Kollock

"Hey Dad!" I could use some help here!" - Photo

Submitted by:  Tom Wilbanks

Thirty-two inch rainbow trout caught and released by 6 year old nephew Sawyer Burgess. His dad Tommy Burgess is holding the fish.

First Time on the Soquee - Story

Submitted by:  Justin Ellis

The first time I went canoeing on the Soquee, on Memorial Day weekend in 2003, I didn't see a single living soul the entire trip. I did see kingfishers, a beaver family, canada geese, and a rainstorm that made each water drop invert into the sunshine when it plopped in the river. I also went skinny dipping and caught a catfish. At the end I rode my bike back up Pea Ridge Road to Cannon Bridge to complete the sensation of paddling and biking the entire lower section of the river, not to mention that great feeling of self sufficiency. That trip (and others like it) permanently bound my heart to this "one of a kind" river.                                                                                                    ~Justin Ellis, SRWA Director

"Misty Morning" - Photo

Submitted by: Barbara Johns

"This photo was taken early one morning while I waited for Mark of the Potter to open its kiln.  It was a very misty morning and this river is just glorious any time of day."

"Soque at Habersham Mills" - Photo

Submitted by: Kasey Brookshire

Grandma's Wisdom

Submitted by: Linda Vandiver

Linda remembers this saying from her grandmother that really reflects an attitude of minimizing waste and using what is available and reusable instead of disposable...something we could probably all do a little more of.

Kid's Art Collection - Artfull Barn Summer Camp

Submitted by: Artfull Barn Summer Camp Kids (July 2014)

Ages 8-14

Watercolor pencil art

Pastels on suede board art

Soque in Clarkesville

Submitted by: Richard Smith

Master/Craftsman Photographer

Digital Artist

Soque in Clarkesville

Soque at Batesville

Submitted by: David Horton

Owner/Artist

Mountain Gallery Art & Restoration

Downtown Clarkesville

Soque River at Batesville

River Reminiscing

Submitted by: Kelsey Miller

Pen & ink artwork called pointillism/stippling. Painstakingly created by millions of tiny dots.

"The Jewel of Habersham"

Submitted by: Adam Bowman

"Trout" and "Quack, Quack, Ducks" - Kid's Art

By: Autumn Samsel (age 7)

Why I did "Trout" was because I really enjoy fishing so I decided I’d making someone fishing in the Soque River for trout. I used pastels, pens and pencils. ~ Autumn

Why I did "Quack Quack Ducks" is because Sarah [sister] has a friend that works in the garden with her who works at a contest in the Soque River- a duck race and she has to go around pushing ducks so they don’t get stuck and stuff. So that’s why I did "Quack Quack Ducks." ~ Autumn

"A Day on the Soquee" ... a remembrance

By: Ruby Batson

Submitted by: Dolores Wilson

July 1937

“Yee-hoooo!” “Yee-hoooo!”  I stop and listen to the familiar sound coming up the hill from the Soquee River.  My home and farm is just up the hill, you know.  I look out to the field and see my Dad stop pulling corn.  “Dad”, I yell out.  “Can I come with you?”  “No, not this time.  You can come when you grow and little more.”

I wait in our yard.  Mama and me are breaking beans and shucking corn.  The big shade trees help keep up cool.  I hear our dog barking and I know some folks are coming up from the bottoms.  That’s what we call the land down next to the river.  My dad just ferried them folks across the Soquee.

Today some cousin folk and their neighbor were there waiting.  They brought their young’uns to help tote food or dry goods that they may be needing today from Grandma’s store.  As they come by the house, they shout out a “Howdy” to me and my Mama.  We stop and shout, “Howdy, Howdy” and Mama asks, “How’s the family?”  They talk a bit and then head on down the road.

You see, my Grandma, Mattie, ran the local General store.  So, “as the crow flies”, the quickest path for several families was to cross the Soquee and cut through the woods.  The path was pretty well traveled cause this was also a trail to the schoolhouse.

We only had one group wanting to come across today.  Some days Dad has to stop working in the fields or at the sawmill two or three times to ferry folks across the river.  He loves going anyhow and never asks for payment.  But today one of the kinfolk gave him some eggs and tomatoes.  I shout, “Oh, Boy!” when dad brings the tomatoes to the house.  There’s nothing better than a slice of tomato with Mama’s hot biscuits.

Pencil Sketch of Soque River

Submitted by: Abby Moeller

"We all live Downstream"

Submitted by: Jennie Inglis  

Published in The Northeast Georgian 

Friday, October 1, 2004

Did you see that picture of Pitts Park on the cover of the September 21 issue of The Northeast Georgian?  Pitts Lake is more like it!

            My amateurish guess tells me that that much water in Pitts Park means that the Soque River was about 15 feet above normal!

            The day after Hurricane Frances dumped that much water on us, Ralph Shaw and I traveled to Atlanta to attend the 10^th anniversary celebration of the Upper Chattahoochee Riverkeeper (UCR).  We learned that night that the Chattahoochee had crested at 23 feet above normal.

The Soque’s 15 feet contributed to one of the highest recorded water levels of the Chattahoochee River in history.  So goes the water out of the hills of Habersham, down through the valleys of Hall.

            The upper Chattahoochee, as defined by the UCR, is the 200 miles or so of the river from West Point Lake below Atlanta to the headwaters here in Northeast Georgia.

            Our beautiful little river, the Soque, fully contained within Habersham County, makes up the eastern branch of the headwaters.  The western headwaters rise in the hills of White County.

            What is the UCR?  Its website says, “Established in 1994, the Upper Chattahoochee Riverkeeper Fund Inc., is an independent environmental advocacy organization dedicated solely to protecting the Chattahoochee River.  From its headwaters to West Point Lake, the Chattahoochee is severely impacted by urban development, industrial discharges and agricultural runoff.  State water quality standards are routinely violated along the entire stretch of the upper Chattahoochee.  Development in Atlanta and the continued discharge of untreated sewage in the river during storms are significant problems for communities downstream.”

            “Riverkeeper’s mission is to advocate and secure the protection and stewardship of the Chattahoochee River, its tributaries and watershed, in order to restore and conserve their ecological health for the people and fish and wildlife that depend on the river system”

            At the anniversary celebration, I learned the names of some the individuals and corporations that substantially support the UCR.  That organization has some clout!

            While Ralph and I are just citizens who are concerned – more for the Soque River than the entire upper Chattahoochee River – we are the organization, too.

            Ralph made significant personal sacrifice to the river; I dedicated a couple of years volunteering with the Soque River Watershed Association.  We are to the UCR membership what the Soque is to the Chattahoochee.  To extend that metaphor, Habersham County is to the Atlanta Metro Area what the Soque is to the Chattahoochee.

            Those of us here in the headwaters and the headwaters themselves, represent the grassroots of the UCR and the Chattahoochee river system.

            Our work is here at home.  Think, for just a moment, of how our little river fits into the big picture.  If you can’t imagine that, think of how the creek that runs by your house, on your property or in your neighborhood, contributes to the Soque.

            Then, consider the phrase, “We all live downstream.”

Notes: 

The Upper Chattahoochee Riverkeeper changed its name to the Chattahoochee Riverkeeper and is celebrating its 20^th anniversary in October 2014.

Ralph Shaw died in early 2014.

"Misty Soque" and "Soque Watershed" Photos

Submitted by: Morgan S. Alexander (14 years old)

Mist rising from the Soque at sunset.

Soque Watershed

Summertime Fun

Submitted by: Antonia and Ray Reed

"When the summer weather is really hot, we like to put on our water shoes and go 'hiking' up the river - it doesn't matter how wet we get - it feels great, especially knowing how clean the Soque is."

Rarely Seen 1960's John Kollock Artwork of old Habersham Mills

Shared by: Aubrey Motz, III

Rarely seen print of Habersham Mills by John Kollock (sometime in the 1960's).

"Surprise in a Shallow Riffle" Photo

Submitted by: Ty Akins

Ty Akins was pleasantly surprised by this catch in a shallow riffle along the Soque River.

"Rainbows and Havana's"

Submitted by: Preston M. Sutter

Every fall in north Georgia, there’s a certain type of morning that creeps down the back of my neck, right where my jacket should be.  My nose picks up the scent of wood smoke so faint it makes me wonder if it is even there.  The summer rains have long since passed, yet the mountain air still seems wet.  Thickets of rhododendron and mountain laurel have eased their grip on my beautiful Soque River, happy to thirst less for its life giving water than in the height of the summer. 

The trout also seem grateful for autumn’s long awaited reprieve.  Their hefty backs break the surface from tip to tail as they eagerly sip insects whose sluggish wings couldn’t carry the width of river; nature dutifully dropping them into the riffles where the maws of hungry fish wait expectantly.  These trout are what bring my friend Tommy Wilbanks and me to the river this morning.  We sit quietly on the bank among the hemlock branches, patiently waiting for the trout to forfeit their positions among the pockets and pools below. 

I have known Tommy my entire life as my father’s best friend.  Only in the last few years have I come to find the passion in fly-fishing that has captivated Tommy for so many years more.  His family has owned this land for three times my mere twenty-one years, and I have every reason to believe that the fish along its banks and the grouse hidden among its coverts will keep it in the family for years to come. 

We have been coming to this stream for longer than I can remember; the cycles of the river marking the chapters of my life.  I’ve come to understand the seasons through the eyes of this river.  I have watched my father and Tommy work together along her banks each season, efficiently yet humbly bringing their quarry to hand.  Yet while my father and I have always been guests in the gin-clear waters of the Soque, for Tommy the waters are his home. 

In the past few years, my relationship with this man has evolved from seeing him as my dad’s best friend, to his becoming a mentor in my development as a fly-fisherman.  As a part-time sales associate for the Orvis Company, I have seen (and heard) my fair share of fishermen’s claims of omnipotence on the rivers and streams of the southeast.  Some customers come through the shop with their heads lifted high, their eyes framed by horn-rimmed glasses, examining each midge and mayfly imitation with the scrutiny of Atticus Finch, the pensive lawyer in To Kill a Mockingbird.  They are “Type A” fishermen who see trout fishing as a status symbol, and who pursue it with an arrogance that believes it is a contest that can be won.  They miss the point as they bet with one another about “who will catch what” on their airline flights to British Columbia or New Zealand.  

Others pass through the store with their hands in their pockets, anxious for any information that might explain why the trout didn’t bite this morning, last weekend, or any other time they fished.  They seem uneasy, padding the tally of fish they caught so that I might be impressed, and hanging on my every word as if I have a clue about the puzzling behavior of trout.  

When Tommy comes by the store it’s a different story.  He seems strangely out of place, indoors and without waders.  He is often more likely to talk about how the Georgia Bulldogs will fare against Florida next week than if the fishing was good on his trip to Noontootla Creek or Andros Island.  He will take a look at the pictures on the “bragging board” to see the fish other people deemed worthy of a photo.  He’ll pick up a fly, unable to tell you the scientific name of the insect it depicts and look at it like someone might look at a two-headed penny, amused by the work someone put into it.  I love that he has such an unassuming air; that he is more concerned with fishermen than with fish. 

I admire that Tommy has never given fish the epic and unconquerable mystique that so many fishermen and outdoor writers are prone to do.  He knows that a given fly, fished under specific conditions, will catch a fish.  He can read a stretch of the river and tell me where the fish are, where they will be in an hour, and which fly will probably work.  If the fly selection is a bust, he’ll tell me that I’m not “holding my mouth right” or that I should’ve showered this morning. 

His easygoing demeanor and wit disarm his hawk-like intensity as he stares at the stream’s surface.  He methodically works the runs of each section, understanding the nuances of the current and its effects on his fly.  His tenacity is often rewarded with an aerial display of crimson and chrome, and his swiftness in landing and releasing the fish is a testament to his respect for his agile adversary. 

In addition to the fragrance of wild magnolias and juniper, permeating the Soque woods, I detect the sweet smell of an embargo-violating Cuban cigar floating across the smooth rocks and logjams that separate us.  Between casts I often glance upstream to watch him as he changes flies, holding them closer to his face with each advancing year. 

Throughout the day he will often look my way, his mouth masked by his moustache and that cigar, grinning with an expression of sheer contentment.  He’ll offer information about where a big brown trout was holding yesterday or how last week he saw an otter right where I am standing.  I halfway think he looks downstream just to make sure I am still there, remembering that at the age of five I took off my life jacket and let it float away down stream.

There is always comfort in knowing that he is standing in the tail-out of the pool above me, ready to lend a net when my rod arcs and grins under the weight of another fish. 

While we catch fish throughout the afternoon, I know that Tommy’s finest hour is still to come.  As dusk approaches, (which always arrives too soon under the thick canopy of the Soque), Tommy leans against the tailgate of his Wrangler and slips out of his waders, our rod tips protruding above his head.  He stows away his vest and boots, all the while talking about his wife Connie and his two beautiful daughters. 

I have always been impressed at his ability to break down fishing gear, completely unhindered by the beer in his right hand.  While the leaves turn from green to gold in the fading light of this October evening, Tommy and I talk about his trip to the Bahamas last spring.  As usual, he offers his opinion of locally brewed beers and conch fritters long before mentioning the twelve-pound bonefish he battled one morning before breakfast.  This is the part of each trip with Tommy that I have come to truly enjoy.

As reel seats bang against the windshield, we climb an unmarked dirt road out of the Soque River woods.  Gears shift, as does our conversation, to speculation about what Connie might have left for us in the oven.   

About the Author

Preston Sutter is a native Georgian.  He is a 2007 graduate of the University of Alabama. 

An avid outdoorsman all his life, he gained a great love for fly-fishing in streams and coastal waters throughout the south, the Gulf of Mexico, and the Caribbean.  He became a student of the art during high school and college employment with the Orvis Company, and Boca Grande Outfitters.  His passion for fly-fishing led him to his profession as a fulltime fly-fishing guide with Shallow Water Expeditions, in Santa Rosa Beach Florida.  He specializes in guiding Tarpon and Redfish trips from Cape San Blas, Florida to Venice, Louisiana.  He is married and has one daughter.

This story was written when he was a senior at Alabama.

Biking the Yellowbank Basin

Biking the Yellowbank Basin

Despite past adventures, learning to explore a watershed by bike was going to require a little practice. My tools included maps, key contacts who knew the area, a phone and book, a bike of course, sunscreen, water, camera a few small gifts and a little luck. Each day was to be a mixture of pre-planned visits and lucky finds.    

Before starting out, I’d pour over maps to identify key roads and properties to see. I’d call and schedule visits with the few people I knew in each basin, usually farmers, and look for other points of interest to get an idea of the history of the sub-basin. At some point, I’d pick up the phone and call people living in interesting spots. Even though I was a stranger, coming out by bicycle seems just weird enough to pique interest rather than concern. Most people, well over 50%, were willing to let me come by for a visit.

The Yellowbank sub-watershed. Click Here for PDF map

Paddle down Soque River worth effort

Paddle down Soque River worth effort

Submitted by Treva Bennett
Written Summer of 2013 after the Soque River Festival

Beginning and ending in Habersham County, the Soque River flows from its headwaters on Tray Mountain to its confluence with the Chattahoochee River. The city of Clarkesville gets its drinking water from the Soque; many farmers water their livestock or crops from the river or its tributaries; and fishermen brave the cold water to catch the trout that swim in its waters.

While public access to the Soque River is very limited, the Soque River Watershed Association has created an event that allows us a chance to get up close and personal with the river many of us cross over on a daily basis. The Soque River Festival, this year held June 1, allows anyone an opportunity to paddle down a section of the Soque River for a small fee. You get to choose either a canoe or kayak and pick a time for your journey.

I decided this year to take my son Elijah and participate in the event. We each chose to paddle a kayak. My only experience in a canoe on a river was not a pleasant one, so I opted for something different. As a Boy Scout, Elijah has had ample opportunities to paddle both but he prefers a kayak. We were to be among the first paddlers of the day and set out that Saturday morning looking forward to an adventure.

Our guides were a gentleman who lives on the river and paddles up and down its banks almost daily, and his assistant, a young teen who was up for a visit with family. As we were getting into the water and into our boats, it became evident I was going to be the problem child of the group. My last paddling trip (the not-so-pleasant canoe trip) was many moons ago and I had never been in a kayak, so I was basically at the beginner stage.

A key piece of advice, and one I used extensively, was if you start going the wrong way, paddle backward on the opposite side. “Opposite side” became my mantra as we journeyed down the river. Unfortunately, repeating the phrase and making my body do the proper motions didn’t always work so well. After rescuing me from the clutches of overhanging vines and a hitchhiking spider, our guide decided he had better hang back with me and let his assistant handle things up front. Elijah did paddle back to check on me from time to time, but spent most of his time up front with his new friend. I was able to enjoy the beauty of the river pretty much by myself, as I was the straggler in our group.

We were almost at the end of our journey when I got stuck against a fallen tree in the middle of the river. I was repeating “opposite side, opposite side” as I was headed for the tree but my arms weren’t following directions. Lodged against the tree, I was not moving but the water was and it flooded my kayak, sending me under the water and under the boat.

After a brief moment of panic when I realized the boat was on top of me and I couldn’t get my footing, I was able to throw the boat off and stand up. (Thank goodness for a shallow river!) By that time, our guide had seen my predicament and was trying to get out of his kayak to come to my aid. I told him I was OK and somehow he managed to get me back in my boat and finish my journey.

Even with the unintentional dunking, I enjoyed my experience on the river. The peace and tranquility of floating along, surrounded by such beauty, was well worth getting a little wet. I now have a new appreciation for the river that calls Habersham its home.

Treva Bennett is copy editor for The Northeast Georgian. Email her at tbennett@thenortheastgeorgian.com.

Textured Trout Artwork

Submitted by: Sarah Samsel

This picture is made of: hydrangea, bark, cinnamon, aucuba, black hollyhock, onion, gray poplar, money plant, pansy, seaweed, cotton and turmeric.

My thoughts: Fly-fishermen talk about “matching the hatch,” which refers to matching the appearance of insects that trout eat with fishing flies tied from feathers and fur. I do something similar as I seek to match the colors and patterns on the sides of the fish with plant materiel. Fish might be my very favorite thing to make with pressed flowers. I like overlapping the various leaves and petals to make it all blend smoothly.