P.J. Reilly reels in a fish on the Susquehanna River.
Two fisherman wait for bites on the Susquehanna River near the Columbia-Wrightsville bridge.
P.J. Reilly holds a fish he caught on the Susquehanna River.
A view of Wrightsville from the Susquehanna River.
The writer uses a scissors to remove a lure from a fish.
Published in 1612, the first map of the Chesapeake Bay region drafted by English explorer John Smith depicts a river emanating from the uppermost end of the bay as a snaking, dark line.
Next to it, Smith wrote the word "Sasquesahanough."
Born at the southern end of Otsego Lake near Cooperstown, N.Y., the Susquehanna River twists and turns for roughly 444 miles before draining into the Chesapeake at Havre de Grace, Md.
At times it is swift and powerful. At others, it appears soft and tranquil.
Like the "gyant" Susquehannock Indians Smith wrote about on his early explorations, people have continuously lived along the river, welcoming its waters into their souls.
During the dog days of summer, the river is a 48-mile-long amusement park in Lancaster County.
People head there to swim, float in tubes, paddle canoes and kayaks and zip around on Jet Skis.
Birdwatchers search for soaring eagles, squawking herons and, in recent years, speeding peregrine falcons.
Anglers work lures and bait through the river's current in search of smallmouth bass — aka bronzebacks and smallies.
Many — including me — consider the smallmouth to be, pound for pound, the hardest fighting fish in Pennsylvania.
Even if you don't pledge allegiance to that opinion, you have to admit there are few fish out there that are as spirited on the end of a line as a smallie.
By all accounts, the smallmouth fishing on the river in recent years is a pale, sickly relative of the beast that drew anglers from all over the country just a decade ago.
At the turn of the century, it was expected that an August morning's excursion on the river would yield 50 or more bass.
Those days are long gone.
Experts are hard at work trying to figure out what went wrong.
We hope they find a cure.
Until they do, though, you'll still see plenty of folks waving fishing rods on the river alongside the pleasure boaters, tubers and swimmers.
That's because for probably as long as people have lived near the Susquehanna, there's only one place to be on a hot, muggy August day in Lancaster County.
On the river.