(L–r) Sam Porter, and dad, Stephen Porter, relax at White Oak Hunt Club after a day of dove hunting. When I received

word The Columbia Star

wanted me to write the local Outdoor Column, I was surprised because I do not consider myself to be a great writer or even a great outdoorsman in many senses of the word. Certainly, there are those in the Columbia area who have had far more success in the woods and water than I have such as Ryan Eaddy, Tripp Penninger, Jason Chastain, Austin Meares, any of the Westons except Carter Jr., and the list goes on. Surprising as it was, I jumped at the chance, as I enjoy the subject matter and do not mind repeating stories that have not a shred of credibility.

I did not grow up in an especially “outdoorsy” family. Many of my early hunting and fishing trips came at the expense of my friends’ parents. Dr. James P. Ashley and Crazy Eddie Philbeck made sure there were plenty of opportunities. In return, I helped their children try to break or lose every piece of hunting and fishing equipment these gentlemen ever owned.

For example, early Christmas Eve morning in 1996 (and after staying out entirely too late the night before I might add), Park Ashley and I struck out to the Congaree River for some duck hunting. After a couple of hours of coffee and no shooting, we decided to call it quits for the day.

For those not familiar with the Congaree River, its banks are lined with trees and other vegetation. Some of these trees are standing, and others have fallen in the water over time. Many of the fallen trees, trunk and branches, protrude out of the water. One of these fallen trees is the subject of this story.

The water in the Congaree River was moving fairly fast that morning. As we prepared to motor back to the landing, I pulled up the anchor, and we began to drift. Neither Park nor I noticed that we were drifting toward a large tree branch protruding from the water. In a matter of seconds, the tree branch had hit Park in the chest and knocked him on his back in the bottom of the boat, and Dr. Ashley’s Browning A–5 shotgun was at the bottom of the Congaree. As far as I know, it is still there to this day.

This kind of event must be some rite of passage, as my own four–year–old son Sam threw one of my nicer fishing rods out of the boat and into the Congaree last summer.

But I digress. This column is not about me. This column is not about hunting and fishing trips gone awry. This column is about Columbia area sportsmen, women, and children who have some pictures and an interesting stories to tell. No catch is too small or story too insignificant, but we do ask that pictures be somewhat “clean,” or they will not be reproduced (by “clean” we mean no unnecessary guts or gore). Please send your submissions to be considered to StephenDPorterPA@hotmail. com or P.O. Box 50091, Cola, SC 29201.

Likewise, any “hot spot” information you are willing to share is printable as well (i.e. tournament fishermen Chris Daves and Darryl Starkey say the May bass bite is already on at Lake Murray). Good luck to you, and please send your stories.