https://ift.tt/femyBaQ Southern smallies

The distant sounds of clanking metal and the crunching of gravel under truck tires alerted us that someone was coming down the forest road. We glanced up from the task of packing our camping gear and fly rods into our canoe and kayak as a logging truck barreled out of the tree line, coming to a screeching halt in the middle of the bridge that spanned the small river. A cloud of dust billowed out from behind the truck, washing over the cab and softly settling around us. The door opened with a loud and piercing squeak as a forester climbed out of the cab.

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