The Trout Zone: Great Smoky Mountains National Park

Showing posts with label Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Show all posts

Monday, November 17, 2025

Into the Wild Beyond: Day Two

Waking up next to a tumbling mountain trout stream has to be the best way to enter a new day. The glow of dawn had me awake and shortly after, climbing out of my tent. The cool mountain air was invigorating with just a hint of the cold months lurking over the horizon. Not so cold you needed a jacket, but cool enough to make you briefly second guess your plans to wet wade.

Read Day One HERE

Pale jewelweed near a trout stream in the Great Smoky Mountains

I had a nice relaxing morning with some reading, a leisurely breakfast, and of course enjoying the scenery which never gets old. There were plenty of wildflowers around camp to enjoy, not to mention the stream itself. At some point, though, I made a subtle mental shift from enjoying the place I was in to getting excited about encountering more of the finned inhabitants of the waterways around camp. My rod was put back together (I no longer leave it assembled in camp, feel free to ask if you have questions on why) and I tied on a dry fly. Putting on the wet wading boots was the last task that I kept waiting until we were both ready to hit the water. That is probably one of my least favorite jobs on a fishing trip. Wet wading gear, damp from the previous day's fishing, is never fun to put on.

Once we were ready to fish, we decided to do a short trail walk to a section of stream that is always fun to fish, full of plunge pools and waterfalls. You have to be extremely careful as there are lots of places where a slip could have serious consequences. I've found myself moving slower and more deliberately through the water these days. Sadly, I'm not getting any younger. I think my buddy Elam had a hard time relating the few times I commented about getting old.

We jumped in at a favorite waterfall scene. This spot never gets old and we both caught several brookies before we even got to the base of the first falls. Surprisingly, the plunge pool at the base of the actual falls didn't fish as well as the pools and pockets further down. We didn't pause for too long other than for a few pictures and were soon climbing the exposed ledge around the side of the falls, hoping to not fall back down.

Native Great Smoky Mountain National Park brook trout

This stream is one of my favorites for brook trout because of both the numbers and size of its resident fish. On one trip, my buddy Greg and I caught ten brook trout nine inches or better. For the Smokies, that is phenomenal. On our trip, we never broke ten inches, but the numbers were absurd. I think we got Elam a new personal best in terms of fish caught in a day on a Smokies trip. My own personal best numbers day came from this same area. It just doesn't get fished enough to make the fish hard to catch. There are lots of places in the Smokies that fall into that category still, thankfully I might add. You just have to work to get to them.

We were working pretty hard just to fish this one. Numerous huge boulders, giant ledges, and yes, lots of waterfalls all made our way harder but also contributed to keeping fishing pressure to a minimum. The big shocker happened around midday. We were struggling through yet another steep section. At times it felt that even a mountain goat would struggle to negotiate the rough terrain. Then, I saw a small clue stream side. Some small branches that had been gnawed on. Upon closer inspection, I found more evidence that yes, beavers had somehow invaded even this incredibly rough drainage. I'm forever amazed at where these animals can and do go. Check out the fresh cuttings we found!

After wondering in awe at this little sideshow, we got back to fishing. The fish were coming with regularity. Put the fly in the right spot, catch a fish. Rinse and repeat. One of the treats on these trips is enjoying different color schemes on these jewels. Some fish are dark, some are light, some have been jaws while others are more delicate. Each fish is unique and some are truly stunning

In addition to catching plenty of trout, we were also enjoying the creekside flora. Numerous wildflowers were still blooming at this late date as evidenced by the profusion on our hike in. Streamside, there were a few goodies. One of the most prolific was the white snakeroot. One of the last wildflowers to bloom each year, it was a sure sign that the growing season was winding down. Next up? Spring wildflowers in a few months.

Great Smoky Mountains National Park white snakeroot

One of the reasons I enjoy brook trout fishing in the late summer or early fall is that at least some of the fish have colored up for the fall dance. While the spawn doesn't usually start until October, the fish are already looking good by sometime in August or September. One of the most beautiful fish we found on this trip came partway through this first full day of fishing. It had the fiery orange belly that makes those fall fish so special.

Despite the often small size of this brook trout stream, it does have a few surprises. Like any good stream, the occasional "big" pool is always a treat to stumble across. I haven't gotten around to naming any of my favorite pools on this stream yet, but I've fished it enough now that I probably ought to. One in particular is always excellent. It has produced as many as ten fish on some trips and usually offers that many chances at minimum. We caught and missed quite a few out of it on this trip although probably not quite ten. Other pools that usually fish very well were surprisingly slow. One in particular stands out. I've seen nine inch and larger fish come from this pool and it is usually good for at least three or four fish and often several more. On this trip, however, we got maybe one or two and possibly missed one, but overall we just weren't seeing fish in this pool. Those are the types of ebbs and flows that make more sense if you are on the same piece of water frequently, but when you only come once a year if you're lucky, those types of pools always create reason to wonder what is going on.

As the day wore down, I started letting Elam fish most of the best water. It was getting late and I was starting to wind down for the day. I did manage a couple of late fish that also happened to be picture fish. One was special because of the distinct blue halos on its flanks. The other fish had the blue halos but also better amounts of orange. Best of all, that second fish ate a dry fly.

This section of creek always seems to end abruptly. One minute you're working through some skinny pocket water, and the next it is time to climb out and hit the trail. Most streams I fish are broken into sections based on how the stream flows in relation to a nearby trail or manway. This stream had some fairly obvious in and out spots. If you picked the wrong spot, the resident stinging nettle would protect the brook trout from any hasty invasion.

Great Smoky Mountains National Park Stinging nettle

We carefully navigated our way out of the stream bed, avoiding the nettle. On our hike back, we began debating what to do the next day. One more full day of fishing loomed ahead. We were both excited and also torn. Normally, I would fish the next section of stream that we had been working up, getting in at the same spot we exited on this day. However, after catching a couple of big brook trout a little closer to camp, the chance to catch larger native brook trout had us at a serious crossroads. Which stream would we fish the next day?

Sunday, August 31, 2025

Summer Adventures Way Up High in the Smoky Mountains

Summer is my least favorite season. This is primarily due to the heat and humidity that seems a little worse every year. Maybe I'm just getting older and less tolerant of a variety of weather conditions, but either way, summer isn't my favorite. There are a few redeeming features of the season, however.

First, the long days are fantastic. More light usually equals more energy, at least for me. Need to leave home by 5:00 am for a long day of fishing or guiding? No problem. When I get home later, say 6 pm or after, there is still plenty of light to enjoy a family walk through our neighborhood after eating supper. In the middle of winter, with sunset at 4:30 pm, that just isn't an option. Oh, and the fishing adventures in summer are always a joy. Smallmouth wade trips on the Cumberland Plateau, brook trout excursions in the Great Smoky Mountains, and of course tailwater float trips for large trout.

Yes, summer isn't all bad. However, by sometime in July, I'm usually trying to figure out how to escape the heat and humidity even if for a little while. I can do one or the other, but the combination of both is just miserable. Some years, that escape comes in the form of a trip out west. In other years, my only escape is to the high elevations of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

This year, by mid July, I noticed that a particular week of August still had no trips booked. Normally, I would sit tight with the knowledge that eventually some work will come through. That is part of the guide business after all. This summer had been unusually hot, however, and I was ready for a break. After a quick consultation with my wife, we made camping reservations for a favorite campground way up high in the Smokies. Even in the hottest summer months, it is always nice and cool. The humidity would probably be fairly high, but that is the nature of spending time in the temperate rainforest otherwise known as the Great Smoky Mountains.

As our scheduled trip got closer and closer, the weather pattern trended wetter and wetter. It became apparent that at minimum we would see a lot of rain. Such is life in the Smokies in summer where you can expect pop up showers and storms nearly every day at the higher elevations. Thankfully, we had an awning for our picnic table and a large roomy tent that I've had seemingly forever now and is still mostly waterproof.

We arrived at the campground during a lull in the rain chances and got everything set up quickly. After eating supper, some rain showers started to move in and we quickly made tracks for the inside of the tent. The little ones were super excited to get inside the tent and play. Thus, it took longer than usual to calm down for bedtime. Eventually, we all fell asleep to occasional rain showers whispering on the top of the tent.

The next morning started out wet. We had to dry the benches and table top before preparing breakfast. Eventually we got everything dry enough to fix breakfast. By some miracle, the weather cleared a little while we ate, meaning the clouds lifted enough to see more than a few feet. The fog up high in the Smokies is some of the thickest that I've ever seen, but on this morning it lifted enough that we had a window to enjoy what the mountain offered. A nearby trail beckoned with the chance to get a short hike and some fishing in. We hit the trail and all started down the hill. I was carrying a fly rod, hoping for some native brook trout.

Quickly, we began to find interesting wildflowers. I took more pictures than I should share here, at least some of which were firsts for me or at least the first time I bothered to identify them. One of the more interesting is commonly referred to as fly poison (Amianthium muscitoxicum). It is poisonous and affects livestock that consume it to varying degrees including death if large amounts are ingested. Early pioneers would grind the bulb into a powder, mix it with sugar, and set out the potion to kill flies, hence the common name.

Fly Poison wildflower in the Great Smoky Mountains

There were plenty of other interesting wildflowers, but I had my sight set on brook trout fishing. After a few quick pictures on the way by, I kept trekking down the hill to the stream. Running through a very high elevation valley, this particular stream contains pure southern strain brook trout. When you first see the little trickle, you have doubts as to weather it will contain fish, but sure enough, there are plenty of them swimming these cold waters.

I helped one of the little ones fish and we caught a brook trout. That gave us the opportunity to practice how to hold a trout carefully and respectfully. A few pictures were taken and then we sent the beautiful fish back to its watery home. That routine became the plan for the next thirty minutes or so. Wander and explore further downstream, catching the occasional fish and teaching the little one how to gently handle and release our catch.

High elevation native brook trout in the Great Smoky Mountains

As we hiked, other interesting things stood out to us. The usual wildflowers kept me looking around, of course, but we also found neat reflections in a forest pool on the trail. The ongoing wet spell had water everything, both flowing and standing. In another spot, the muddy trail had captured the track of a good sized bear that must have wandered through that morning. Anything earlier and the rain would have washed the track away. One section of trail had some beautiful fall colors where an early turning maple had showered the ground with color.

Autumn colors in Great Smoky Mountains National Park

About this time, we realized that lunch time was sneaking up on us. The little ones in particular would need to eat soon, so we reluctantly turned around. I wanted to sample a longer piece of water than I could with them in tow, so I told Mama that I would meet them at the first crossing upstream and started creek walking fast. Several fish later, including one particularly nice one, and I was more and more amazed at how many fish this stream held. Eventually, however, the stream appeared to be running out of a solid wall of rhododendron. Instead of plowing on through, I figured that I better catch up with everyone and jumped back up on the trail.

When I found them, the kids were getting soaked in the stream having the best time of their lives. Water was splashing and flying everywhere. After a quick cleanup and partial drying, we got everyone moving up the trail again. Upon arriving back at the trailhead, Mama and the littles decided to walk the road back while I took the truck back to the campsite. Wild blackberries were abundant and they wanted a pre lunch snack. I quickly got back, parked, and headed back down the road to find them. They were just about to the campground entrance when I found them. While looking for some blackberries for myself, I found another interesting wildflower and got some pictures.

Appalachian bellflower in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park

About that time, we decided to head back to camp to eat our real lunch. The wild blackberry snacks were delicious, but not particularly filling. We still had the whole afternoon ahead of us but it was threatening rain again. After lunch, the decision was made to head down the mountain. The Oconaluftee area of the Park was a good place to possibly avoid some of the showers in the higher elevations. I was contemplating some more fishing as well, although that part of the plan soon took a back seat. There were more interesting things to see for the Little Ones.

Oconaluftee River in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park

Upon arrival at Oconaluftee, we decided to enjoy the old farm behind the visitors center. That proved to be a big hit with the Littles, and we took some pictures to remember the afternoon by. I particularly enjoyed a squirrel that was going crazy feasting in a tree overhanging the walkway and eventually got a good picture of the critter perched upside down, chowing away.

Gray squirrel at Oconaluftee Visitor Center

Time began to get away from us, and we realized it was time to head back up the mountain. With luck, we might get some supper before the heaviest showers commenced again. On the way back, we briefly spotted a black bear that didn't hang around long enough for pictures. I did stop and get some quick shots of some orange fringed orchids that always bloom in that vicinity.

Back in camp, we got most of our evening routines done while staying reasonably dry, but it was obvious that the rain was setting in for a while. Sleeping in a tent during a good rain is one of my favorite parts of camping, providing of course that the tent doesn't leak. On this evening, we fell asleep to the gentle pitter patter of rain on the tent.

The rain fell on again and off again throughout the night and into the next morning. Finally it broke, and we got up and had breakfast. The Little Ones didn't particularly want to spend a lot of time in their car seats, but I had an idea that might just work. The fog was so thick on the mountain that everything was damp just because of the high humidity. Another drive down the mountain seemed in order. This time, we headed the other direction, towards Cataloochee Valley.

This proved to be another excellent choice. We were on the lee side of the mountains compared to the prevailing flow at the time, so Cataloochee was dry with partly cloudy skies. We saw more sun in Cataloochee than we did the entire rest of the time during our camping trip. A picnic lunch got us all energized for the afternoon. On our drive up the valley, one of the large bull elk posed for a few pictures.

Once we parked, I headed for the stream while Mama and the Little Ones grabbed a blanket and went to play and stretch their legs. I was excited to see Cataloochee Creek, one of my favorites in the Smokies. This was my first time in the Valley after Hurricane Helene, and I was very curious how the creek would look. To all appearances, it was healthy and the fish were all happy. The biggest difference was that some pools had filled in while others had deepened. I fished a favorite piece of water for probably 45 minutes. There were fish just about everywhere I expected to find them. True to recent history, I caught at least as many brook trout as anything else. I also managed one brown trout that also happened to be both my first fish landed and the least cooperative for pictures. By the time I caught back up with the family, I had my first Smokies slam of the year, all on a fun toy. The Redington Butterstick is a favorite for when I just want to have a good time. The fiberglass rod is soft but oh so much fun to fish.

After catching back up with the family, we headed on up the valley. There, we found significant road damage from Helene, but thankfully all the historic structures were still standing. The barn across the road from the Caldwell place was in fairly rough shape but still standing. I have since heard that the Park received a private donation/grant to restore some of these structures, so hopefully we'll be able to enjoy these structures for many years to come.

The wildflowers in the upper valley were particularly vibrant. Goldenrod and ironweed were drawing pollinators of all kinds. I took a few pictures that of course couldn't do the scene justice, but captured a few of the pollinators as well which was neat.

After getting back to the truck, we decided it was probably time to head back up the mountain for our final night of camping. Sure enough, as we drove that way it began threatening rain. We had one or two more rain showers before departing the next morning. However, we were fortunate that the next morning donned bright and drier than it had been during our whole time camping. Things were dry enough to sufficiently dry a fair amount of our gear and get packed at least without doing so in the pouring rain. It had been another successful and relaxing camping trip. I noticed my back was more sore than usual, reminding me that the ground is getting harder every year, but otherwise it was a great camping trip. This might even have to be added to the yearly routine for every summer moving forward. It is nice to escape the heat, even if for just a little while.

Sunday, December 01, 2024

Annual Fall Camping Trip in the Smokies: 2024 Version

Every year, I try to make it over to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park outside of work for a fun trip. As a Great Smoky Mountains fly fishing guide, I need these occasional retreats to stay excited about my home waters. That usually means camping for 2-3 nights and fishing hard for a couple of days. This year, I planned the usual trip, but as the day of the trip drew closer, the weather was looking iffy. After deciding to NOT chicken out, I made the drive over to Smokemont Campground midday on Sunday, and got my tent set up before the rain set in too much. It was sprinkling while I put it up, but thankfully never got serious.

After the tent went up, I was ready to hit the water for a couple of hours before getting a good night's rest. I put together my current all-round favorite rod, a 10' 3 weight Orvis Recon. That rod is literally a do it all workhorse for me. I cast heavy nymph rigs, dry flies, and jig streamers with that rod. Being a little stiffer than most "nymphing" rods, it isn't the best for beginners looking to dry fly fish because you don't feel the rod load like you might with a softer rod, but it can handle anything you throw at it with a little practice.

First Day Streamer Fishing for Quality Brown Trout

With the clouds and rain lingering, I decided to fish for pre-spawn brown trout with streamers. This time of year, brown trout are getting ready for the fall dance, and while I don't advocate for or recommend fishing to spawning fish, both pre- and post-spawn fish are hungry and looking for a meal. Streamers are a good way to pick up some of these aggressive fish.

I decided to stay close to camp and headed down to some favorite pools nearby. After working through the first run and missing a couple of small fish, I started to hope that the good weather conditions were going to offset the very low water from our ongoing drought conditions. Sure enough, the second pool I jumped into worked out in a big way.

A long flat with a fast run at the head attracted my attention. I've often seen some big fish spawn in the back of that flat, and while I wasn't interested in looking for spawning fish, I was interested in fish that had either already spawned or were preparing to spawn but still looking for that last meal. The fast run at the head of the flat provided a perfect ambush spot. A large boulder on the far bank caused the current to sweep back towards meal while simultaneously providing a perfect spot for a brown trout to hide and wait for a hapless baitfish to swim by.

My first cast was almost too far and fell on top of a submerged boulder just below the primary boulder. I raised my rod to jig the streamer and it got whacked as soon as it fell off the boulder into deeper water. The fish gave several solid runs and head shakes, so I knew it was the typically "average" Smokies fish. Sure enough, moments later I slid a solid 15" pre-spawn female into my big Brodin net. I carefully cradled her in the water while getting a closeup or two. She was not too far off from hopefully producing the next generation, so I was careful to not squeeze under her belly. It isn't too hard to accidentally strip eggs or milt from these fish this time of year, so always play it safe and keep them in the water.

After soaking in the moment and being thankful for my ability to spend time in such a special place, I worked up to the next pool. Here, I found several large brown trout glued to the bottom. Knowing that a switch to a nymph setup would probably yield a fish or two, I instead decided to work the streamer with an all or nothing mindset. Sure enough, in the swift water at the head of the pool, a big dark shadow chased my streamer and did everything but eat. Several more fruitless casts convinced me that the fish had indeed spooked. Oh well, on to the next spot.

I was feeling lazy at this point with one nice fish already landed, so I walked well upstream to some more easy to access pools. In one of my favorites, another high point of this trip would occur.

I had already missed a fish or two in a couple of small pockets on the walk up. The main pool I was working towards ended up being perfect, however. I started in the back, carefully working every bit of real estate with my jig streamer. Just as I was about to give up, I figured, "One more shot in the very head." Sure enough, the pattern was starting to crystallize. My streamer jigged once and then got slammed. This was obviously a larger fish than my first nice brown. I was hoping to maybe break 20" or better, but it wasn't quite meant to be. Still, a solid 17" brown trout in the Smokies is a fine fish any day. I got a picture or two, then continued up to look at a couple last pools before heading to camp to fix supper.

Day One Evening In Camp

Nothing particularly interesting happened in the last two holes but I did miss another fish. There is no telling how big (or not) it was. Back in camp, I put together some chili, chips, cheese, and sour cream for a nice hot meal. The rain was still holding off when my buddy and fellow fly fishing guide Pat Tully showed up. He was going to camp for one night, fish the next day, then needed to be back home.

We chatted for a while before crawling into our sleeping bags for the night. I was tired from working many long days, and fell asleep quickly. Morning came sooner than expected, but I felt rested after a night in the fresh air. After a quick breakfast, we decided to fish nearby for the day on the Oconaluftee. This proved to be a nice relaxing choice.

Day Two Fly Fishing the Oconaluftee River

Regardless of whether I am fishing for myself or guiding, spending time on the "Luftee is always a treat. The river has a nice mix of water types and sizes. We started down low looking for larger brown trout. The best we could find was in that 12-13" range and while beautiful, definitely wasn't what we had come looking for. A few other trout including some nicer stocker rainbows kept us entertained, but we wanted something more or different. Before totally giving up, we decided to just "fish through" a section of water, and a fairly length one at that.

I sometimes joke about how lazy I've become as an angler. This is probably a by-product of being on the water every day, but when I'm fishing for myself, I just don't put as much effort as I used to. Note that this does not extend to my "work" fishing. I still try as hard as ever to put people on fish, but I think part of it for me is just the joy of being out there, and catching fish has truly become secondary to the overall experience for me personally. Some of it may just be the residual exhaustion of having little ones at home. Either way, this was all best illustrated during this fishing session.

Pat and I were working up that section of water and decided to skip a section with the goal of getting even higher up the stream. In the process of walking up, we ended up on a high bank looking down in a great run that always looks super fishy. Sure enough, I quickly spotted a big fish. Maybe not a true monster, but no one in their right mind would scoff at a two foot long or better brown trout. This fish was laying deep in back of the run, probably at least 4 feet deep. Two or three other fish that were very nice in their own right sat just below. Fish were clearly staging for the upcoming spawn, and these fish were waiting for better water or weather conditions to move up and do their thing.

The funny thing about the lazy part (which you might have guessed was coming) is that when I told Pat he was welcome to fish for those fish, he declined and we both decided to walk away from close to a sure thing. I can't say for certain that we would have caught those fish, but they were exactly the kind of fish that we can usually get to eat something. Since I had spotted them first, they were technically "my fish." When I offered them to Pat, I was kind of hoping he would slide down that steep bank and catch them. Once he declined, it quickly became obvious that we were out for something more than a 24" brown.

Moments like that leave me wondering just how big a fish needs to be for me to really go out of my way these days. Hopefully I'll have a reason to find out sometime soon, but it wasn't meant to be on this particular trip. In hindsight, I probably should have fished for those fish, but I was more interested in seeing what else might be happening. So, in the end, I'm left realizing that while I don't fish as hard as I used to, it is also the curiosity that keeps driving me on. I'm often willing to walk away from the known quantity in fishing to see what else might be.

When we got to the end of that section without finding anymore monsters, it motivated us to try something a little different which proved to be just the right call.

Tenkara Fishing in the Great Smoky Mountains

For the last several months at least and maybe longer, Pat and I have been talking about doing some Tenkara fishing. While it is something that I do both for personal fishing and guiding/work fishing, it was new for him. When we got back to our vehicles and I mentioned that I had a couple Tenkara rods with me, Pat was all for it. Something new and at the same time something instructional was a good idea. As guides, we are always trying to add to our repertoire of offerings, and I've been telling Pat for a while that he should work on being able to guide Tenkara anglers. While I don't run a ton of Tenkara only trips, it happens often enough that we could use at least one more guide who can offer Tenkara trips also.

We headed upstream to where the river gets smaller, fitting in perfectly with my philosophy on the best application for this method. One section of pocket water in particular just happened to be a favorite of both of ours. I pulled out rods and showed Pat how to rig up. Once we got it all together, I showed him the nuances of casting a Tenkara rod compared to a "regular" fly rod. In the process, I found our first Tenkara fish of the day. This fish was my favorite of the day, because it came on the Tenkara rod instead of my usual fly rod.

Tenkara caught brown trout on the Oconaluftee River

Pat took over from there and soon we were taking turns every other fish. One of the best moments came a short distance upstream when Pat found a gorgeous brown trout of his own. This fish fought like a tiger on the light Tenkara rod and Pat was left grinning with a new found appreciation for the "glorified cane pole fishing" methods we were using.

Close up of a Smoky mountain brown trout on Tenkara

Shortly after that nice brown, we finished up our day. I wanted to kick around closer to camp a little and Pat was heading back home that evening. So, we went our separate ways.

Day Two Evening In Camp

After Pat left, I went down to check on another favorite section of water close to camp. I ended up calling it quits with some daylight still left. I had covered a lot of water that day and my legs were getting tired. I've finally learned that bad things like falls usually happen when I'm getting tired, and I'm no longer too proud to call it a day.

Back in camp, I was glad that I had called it. The evening was cooling down rapidly, and I wanted to get my supper and evening chores done before it got too cold. My warm sleeping bag was already calling to me. After a warm supper and a little time to relax in camp, I crawled into my sleeping bag and was soon asleep. Having little ones at home means that I have to take advantage of the opportunity to get extra sleep when it comes around. I took full advantage that night, going to bed shortly after dark and sleeping soundly until day break.

Day Three Fly Fishing Noland Creek

I didn't know it that morning, but this would be my last day of fishing on this trip. The plan that day was for one of my other guides, Chris Bean, to join me to explore up Noland Creek. I've been slowly working my way up that stream and was ready to fish a "new" to me section. Chris hadn't done much there, so he was ready to explore as well.

He got there in a timely manner, and I was still eating my granola, yogurt, pecans, and banana breakfast. It wasn't long before I was ready, however, and we headed out of the campground and west towards Bryson City. One of my favorite little mountain towns, I didn't spend much time there on this trip, but it is always a good time driving through on my way to one of the local trout streams.

For this trip, it was hard to pass the turn to Deep Creek, but we made ourselves stick to the plan and continued on down the Road To Nowhere (AKA Lakeshore Drive). There were already a couple of vehicles at the Noland Creek trailhead, but there was no sign of them anywhere as we geared up and hiked in. By the time we got to a good starting point, the sun was starting to work down in to the stream bottom and warm things up.

It didn't take long to start finding fish. I didn't know if the cool night was going to be a problem, but it turned out that fish were active more or less from the get go that morning. That said, there was a noticeable surge in activity during the warmest part of the afternoon before it abruptly started shutting down as the shadows lengthened towards the end of the day. This time of year, with the low sun angle, that starts much earlier than people think.

In between that first fish and moment activity started slowing down, we found a respectable number of fish without really catching enough to get bored with it. We had to work just hard enough to keep things enjoyable and even caught a few on dry flies. In between, we had lots of good conversation while leap frogging our way upstream. Often, we would each take one side of the stream and take turns fishing depending on which side had the best angle on any given spot.

While we didn't find anything particularly noteworthy from a fishing standpoint beyond the standard Smoky Mountain rainbows, I did find some extensive hog sign. One area looked like it had been rototilled while another couple of spots had very obvious and recently utilized wallows. I always hate to see the widespread damage caused by these invasive pests.

We were having a great time fishing, but as the sun dropped and the bite abruptly started to shut down, we both agreed that getting out at a reasonable time was best. Making good time on the way out, I started to contemplate my own warm house and soft bed. Moreover, I was missing the family back home. When we got back to camp, I made up my mind to tear down camp as fast as I could and head home.

Originally, I was supposed to stay another night and fish a little more the next day before heading home. However, priorities have a way of shifting in life. I was more than satisfied with the wonderful getaway and fishing but was raring to get back home. And just like that, yet another fishing trip drew to a close. Chris and I caravanned over the hill back to the TN side in the waning light of a November evening. Shortly after exiting the Park with it getting dark, I called to surprise my family with news of my early return. Thankfully they were glad to get me back.

Trip Wrap Up

It had been another successful trip. While my measure of success has shifted a TON over the years, I had seen some new water (super high on the list of things that I consider making a trip successful), caught fish, spent time with friends, and even made a new fishing friend back in camp. It had been an excellent trip, and I'll look forward to doing it again next year.

Thursday, January 18, 2024

Autumn Getaway

Don't ever become a guide so you can fish more. If you've never heard that saying before, now you have. As a guide, you are on the water every day, fishing in a sense. You just aren't actually holding the rod. In many ways, you actually become a better angler by not fishing all the time, because you spend all day describing how to do it right. On the other hand, it would assumedly be easy to lose the passion if you're doing something every day. That is one thing for which I count myself very fortunate. I still love both my job (guiding) and fishing on my days off. Still, I have to find some way to keep things interesting. If I've already floated the Caney Fork River 75 times for the calendar year, I probably won't float the exact same section doing the exact same thing on my off day.

There are many solutions to keeping it interesting. Most of them revolve around pushing myself into new experiences as an angler. One is to experiment with flies and presentation, something I constantly do on my days off. On a recent guides' day off, I ripped streamers so hard all day that my stripping arm was my tired than my casting arm. Seriously. I saw some really big fish too and will be back to do it again. Another solution is to chase new species, explore new water, or fish rarely fished waters that still have that "shiny new toy" feel.

This past fall, in early October, a calendar anomaly opened up a short window to camp and fish in early October. Every year, I take a trip in early to mid November, so this was going to be a bonus trip. It is exceedingly rare that I get multiple days in a row off in October without scheduling it that way on purpose. As one of my busiest months, I tend to guide my way through my favorite time of year, with very little "me" time to go fishing for myself. And that's okay. My bank account appreciates it come the middle of January. Still, when back to back days opened up, I jumped at the opportunity. Wonder of wonders, one of my favorite campsites was available at Smokemont Campground, and it was booked just as fast as I could enter my payment information.

Shortly before the trip, I checked with some fishing buddies to see if anyone wanted to join. I've noticed that is much harder once all your fishing friends have young families, a point I'm also at. Still, I finally got one bite and we made plans to hit a favorite piece of water, albeit one I've only hit once or twice. This would be my first time through in the fall.

We started hiking in fairly early. It was cool enough out that I kind of wanted a jacket but knew the hike would warm me up too much. So, I just trusted my long sleeves to be enough and we headed up the trail. I did wear my Patagonia ultralight wading pants that I bought several years ago. It was too warm for hiking in full chest waders, but I didn't want to get hypothermia either. These were originally bought for backpacking waders, but I occasionally wear them for non backpacking scenarios as well. They kept me from completely overheating, but I was still glad to finally step into the cool stream at the end of our hike. There is always a transition in spring and fall where wet wading is most comfortable mid and late in the day, but the morning hours are just a little on the cool side. That isn't a problem for front country trips, but when you hike in, it is a pain in the rear to carry multiple wading setups for different times of the day. So you just make do as much as possible.

When we got in the stream, I was rigged with a dry/dropper and had high expectations. With a quick rainbow and then a brown, I thought the day was about to bust wide open. Instead, however, the fish were about like what I normally expect on Deep Creek. In other words, they would eat if you did everything just right, but any misstep or bad cast sent them running. The ultra low water didn't help. The ongoing drought conditions in the area had flows even lower than usual for an already dry time of year. Still, we found just enough fish to keep things interesting. Then, finally, as the day warmed a little, the fish really started to turn on.

Wild Smoky Mountain brown trout on a dry fly

A high overcast delayed the best bite later than we had expected, but things eventually got going. At this point, we were both catching fish. Dry flies and nymphs were both producing. Eventually, some streamers were even tossed to great effect. It was one of those magical days in the mountains. The autumn colors while not quite peak, were good enough to add significant value to the trip for me.

Autumn colors in the Great Smoky Mountains

A couple of the rainbows were more memorable than the rest. While all fish are beautiful, some just stick out in my memory for one reason or another. The first one that really caught my attention had nothing to do with size. In fact, it was on the smaller end of the spectrum for the day. The neat thing about this fish was how dark it was. Occasionally, I catch fish that are super dark. Invariable, and this fish was no exception, they come out of very dark holes or from underneath rocks. I have edited this picture to actually lighten things up a little if that tells you anything.

The other memorable rainbow was a big surprise because it ate the dry fly. Not that fish on dries is surprising, of course, but when you've caught the vast majority of fish on the dropper for hours, and then a quality fish slurps the dry, it surprises you each time. The fish fought very well, but upon landing it, I can't say with 100% confidence that it is a wild fish. It might be, of course, and that is even likely. However, the line between stocked and wild on this drainage is hazy at best. Most of the fish are small enough and vibrant enough to tell, but with larger fish, I definitely start to have some questions.

Backcountry rainbow trout in the Smokies

Late in the trip, as we were getting ready to hike out, we found some nicer fish. Not the true monsters that we knew inhabited the stream, but solid brown trout that would make anyone's day. Then, just after catching back to back brown trout, I found one more gorgeous rainbow trout on a dry fly. Talk about a perfect ending to a perfect day. Nothing could beat this day in the mountains, or so I thought.

Wild brown trout in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park

Beautiful wild rainbow trout on a dry fly in the Smokies

Day one fish of the day quality wild brown trout in the Smokies

We got out fairly late, and eventually I made it back to camp and got some supper together. I was missing my family a little and almost drove home that evening. I decided it would be foolish to take down camp just to get home near midnight. I would be much happier and feel better if I got up and headed home in the morning. Such decisions can make or break a fishing trip, I just didn't realize it at the time. After eating chili and tortillas, I hit the sack. I slept well in the cool autumn night air and woke up refreshed.

I got camp broken down quickly and had my thoughts set on home when I thought of a favorite pool nearby. Deciding that it would be silly to drive this far without fishing it, I decided for a quick stop. No more than an hour, I thought to myself.

Wow! What an hour. In that hour, I caught several fish in the 16-19 inch range and a 22.5 inch fish as the largest of the session. It was easily my best hour long fishing experience in the Smokies for brown trout ever. Not necessarily my best day ever, but right up there in that category as well. All of which just goes to show, you don't know if you don't go. Best of all, I still got home much earlier than originally planned or anticipated. Talk about the best of both worlds!

Big wild hen brown trout in the fall in the Great Smoky Mountains

As a guide, we are often faced with less than stellar conditions. Only rarely are things bad enough that we have to cancel a trip. On some borderline days, I'll find myself saying to the client that exact some phrase, or they'll say it to me when we decide to stick to our plans. If you aren't getting out there, you'll never know how fishing might have been. In 2024, focus on getting out more often. You never know what you might be missing out on by skipping a day on the water.

Sorry for the heavy editing on these pictures, but some of my favorite spots are pretty recognizable. I hope you'll understand that I don't want a bunch of people in "my" spot next time I'm there...