The largest
body of water running through Golden Valley North Carolina is the First Broad
River. This mountain stream meanders through the valley requiring several
bridges that allow automobile traffic to flow uninterrupted across the river
today.
This river has
provided opportunities for many activities such as swimming, church baptisms,
car washing, farm animal watering holes, irrigation, gold panning, sand
dredging, and fishing. As a young boy my brothers and neighbor friends would
spend hours bank fishing for catfish into the night using only candle light. As
children a hot summer Sunday afternoon swim was always a treat. Our
hard-working daddy always treasured his Sunday afternoon naps. A swim in the
river required daddy to take us and protect us from drowning. The trick was to
wake him up early enough from his nap before chore time but not too early which
would guarantee anger and no swimming in the river. Through the years the state
or others have dredged river sand and piled it up along the river bank to be
used by the highway department or others to spread on washed out roadbeds. Our
family hauled many pickup loads of sand from these piles through the years to
fill ruts and dips in the steep dirt driveway up to our house. The Golden
Valley name comes from gold being found in the rivers and streams decades ago.
People still pan or dredge for gold in the First Broad River today seeking gold
nuggets or gold dust.
Up the Golden Valley Church Road past the Roy Fortune
homeplace and before you reach the Cleveland (Cle) Rollins homeplace is a
narrow turnoff into the river which our family always referred to this as the
ford. In past generations before public highway bridges were built those
traveling through Golden Valley would ford the river at this location. On the
opposite side of the river is the farm known as the Creed Fortune homeplace.
This farm was settled in the early 1700’s by my ancestors many of which are
buried in the family cemetery on the farm. The old log cabin on the farm is
still standing and is where my brother David and I were born in the early
1950’s during the time daddy was farming with help from the GI bill after WWII.
I’m sure daddy and our ancestors crossed the river at the ford many times at
the place where I fished with the preacher.
Preacher Seay served
First Broad Baptist church for several years when I was a young boy living in
Golden Valley. His family lived in the church parsonage across from the church
which was approximately a mile from the First Broad River ford place. The river
always had cold water which was ideal for trout. The state wildlife department
would stock the river yearly trying to establish a good population of river
trout. Often the trout fishing season would start one day after the river was
stocked with new trout. On season opening day fisherman would almost line the
banks or be wading in the cold water easily catching these newly released fish.
During one of these early fishing season days I had walked from home with my
fishing gear and bait to fish at the ford. Being under age 16 a fishing license
was not required. I found the fish and caught several trout which I hooked onto
a stringer which was tied to a small tree on one end and the fish were lowered
into the cold water on the other end. Later the fish would be taken home and
eaten. Suddenly Preacher Seay walked up and wanted to do some fishing. The
action had slowed in the spot I had caught the fish but I allowed him to stay
there at the stringer and throw where I had just been fishing. I walked
downstream and tried another hole. While baiting his hook between casts a North
Carolina game warden walked up to the preacher and started talking. Realizing
that he had no fishing license he had two choices. One, he could lay down the
fishing rod and say those are not my fish on the end of that stringer and go
home. Or two, cast the bait into the river and take the consequences. Being a man of faith, he took choice number
2, the honest route, and cast the line into the water which immediately required
the game warden’s request to see his fishing license. With no license in his
pocket the game warden issued a violation ticket. The saddest part was he had
caught no fish to lessen his troubles. I admired the preacher’s honesty and
never forgot the lesson he taught on the river bank that day.
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