His sleeping lasted for the hour long trip down to Ashland. Jack woke up excited to see our 'adventure' only to be underwhelmed by the scrub pines and rickety shacks lining the road I had mistakenly turned onto at the interstate exit. (Note to self - maybe those new fangled GPS units would be worth the expense!)After getting back on track and finding the Bass Pro Shops building, Jack and I skipped merrily along, hand in hand across the vast parking lot towards our promised land. Jumping into puddles along the way only heightened our excitement. As we burst through the rough-hewn oak doors we were greeted by an angel - well, this angel was an eighty year old gentleman manning the welcome center, but a warm and welcoming person indeed - and we gazed out over the vast showroom. As far as the eye could see there was treasure to be had. Fishing rods and tackle spilled out of every aisle to the north. To the west were displays of boats - fast, thin boats and fat, cumbersome boats. Boats that fish and boats that ski. To our east were children's toys, home decor items, and a 10,000 square foot restaurant. And let's not forget the upper level! Guns and knives of all shapes and sizes. Rain gear, camping gear, hunting gear,and gear for that gear. We were among the clouds in a sporting goods dream.
Jackson spotted it first. Ahead of us at the rear of the store was a forty foot tall rock tower. Cascading down the face of the tower was a beautiful waterfall that splashed into a deep, glass enclosed pool. We dashed to the pool, drawing up just short of the glass as we took in the sight... HUGE fish drifting along the invisible currents. There were bass that filled the viewing windows. There were catfish the size of Coleman coolers. The tank held many other Virginia game fish, including a very striking longnose gar.
There was a so called touch pool that contained more fish. I'm not sure touching any of these fish would be an intelligent thing to do, as the fish in the pool were also freaks of nature. I'm certain that if anyone had the time and a tow truck they could have caught the brown trout that cruised the pool on a mission to destroy. This brownie is about twenty feet long and must weigh three thousand pounds! I kept a sure grasp on Jack's arm lest the trout decide he was hungry for a taste of toddler.
We eventually pried ourselves away from the fish tanks and did some shopping. A Christmas gift card needed to be spent so various bit of tackle and trimmings made their way into our hand basket. Jack picked out a nice fly rod and reel carrying case so I could carry my fly rod in the car without worrying about breaking it into useless pieces. Jack consulted on colors for the plastic worms and spinnerbaits, reluctantly agreeing that bright pink may not be the best color for our usual fishing conditions.
We took a quick break on a really neat bench before heading out to the car.
A quick stop at a fine dining establishment provided dinner and dessert.
