The Smokies Rock!

I returned last afternoon from an epic weekend of fishing in the Smokies. I skipped my last class on Friday afternoon to make it up to Elkmont with plenty of time for some evening fishing. I set up camp and drove back down Little River and started fishing a hole that has always been kind to me. I caught caught a couple rainbows that were decent. I then cast to the other side of the main current, threw a quick mend to set up my drift and the rod almost got jerked out of my hands. I soon had a gorgeous 13 inch brown to hand that I quickly admired and then slipped back into the waters that he called home. "That was the high point of my weekend" I thought, which was too bad since I had only just arrived. I fished on upstream and finished with around 15 trout caught for an hour and a half of fishing. I started suspecting that since I did not have a camera, the whole weekend would be amazing as far numbers and maybe even size. Little did I know what the next day would bring!

Saturday I woke up and decided to try some new water. I drove over to Greenbriar and parked at the Ramsey Cascades Trailhead. I started fishing upstream from the bridge at the trailhead and fished between a mile and a mile and a half of water. It seemed I could do no wrong. I caught 40+ fish, mostly on a beadhead Tellico nymph but several also came on dry flies. I caught probably half rainbows and brookies with lots of nice sized fish mixed in. I had several rainbows in the 9-11 inch range and a couple of 8-9 inch brookies. I finally decided I was done battling the stream, which was probably the most difficult to traverse that I have ever personally fished. There were tons of huge boulders blocking upstream progress and several times I almost thought I would have to go back all the way downstream to the bridge to get out.

After returning to my car, I headed back over to Little River. Maybe, just maybe I would catch another nice brown. I started fishing a Tellico deep through I large hole when my line just stopped. I quickly set the hook on what I was hoping wasn't a snag. Sure enough, I felt a good-sized head shaking and soon had a 16 inch brown just long enough to slip out the fly. Shaking with excitement, I moved lower down in the pool and caught a small rainbow before moving back up to the head of the pool. I tried the same spot and had the same result, except this time when I set the hook, I didn't feel anything moving. "Oh no, here we go" I thought. I jerked again hoping to set the fly free when something started moving. "There is no way" I mused, but the fish seemed very real as it started surging toward an overhanging ledge underwater. I stressed the 4x tippet as much as I dared and eventually worked up another good brown, this one going 18 inches!!! I originally thought it was 17 inches as I measured it against my rod. I used to have marks on my rod so I could quickly measure a fish but they have worn off. After measuring my rod again, I realized that I caught my first 18 inch brown this weekend!!!

I think the solution to catching big fish must really be to go without a camera. It worked great for me this weekend, and I think it might be foolproof. I will have to test my theory by always taking a camera from now on and seeing if I ever catch good fish again. I will be back soon to fish the fall hatches. This is my favorite time of year and I will be on my home waters as much as my classes allow me to!

Fall

Fall may be my favorite time of the year to fish, perhaps in part because I catch so many fish then, or maybe because the weather is cooler. Regardless of the exact reason, fall is a special time of year when I roam the streams in search of trophy fish.

Sometime, hopefully soon, I will find that one large fish in the Smokies that is willing to eat my fly. Having often spotted but never hooked the large browns that prowl Little River, I have never experienced the rush of adrenaline from hooking one of those monsters. This summer I hooked my second legitimate 20 inch plus brown, but not on my home waters. So now, as the weather cools, I am preparing to once again attempt a shot at the large fish in the Smokies. Maybe this will be the year I hook my first large brown. If not, I will still enjoy fishing my favorite water at my favorite time!

Too busy to fish?

As a student in college, I often find myself making very difficult decisions. One of the really tough ones is going fishing. Now, I love fishing and would fish 24/7 if I did not have responsibilities. However, fishing causes all kinds of problems with accomplishing the supposedly more important things such as homework. For example, last weekend I was home for the weekend and decided to fish the Caney on Sunday. I arrived at the river and began battling the crowds, picking up a fish here and there. I moved up by the dam and finally started slaying them. It was definitely almost too easy, but I was having a blast. When I finally looked at my watch, I discovered to my dismay that I had fished much longer than I intended. Oh well, who needs to do homework. Unfortunately, I spent the whole week trying to play catch-up. I decided that this weekend would not contain any fishing so that I could focus on "important" things. Oddly enough, I probably have spent enough time sitting around wishing I was fishing, or at least wishing I didn't have any homework, that I could have gone fishing for a few hours. Now, I have to wait until next weekend before I will have sufficient time to pursue trout again, but when I do, I will fish with a vengeance because I have to catch enough fish to make up for not fishing this weekend. Or not...just getting out on the water should be reward enough for a week of studying! Now where to fish next weekend.......decisions, decisions.....

Exploring Small Streams

The longing for pristine wilderness and an untouched trout stream is probably common to many fly fisherman. I have hiked up and down mountains for miles in a day searching for the perfect stream. I read whatever fly fishing literature I can get my hands on in hopes of some subtle clue. Pouring over topo maps will scratch the itch to explore, but only enough to make it worse. A small stream in Southeast Tennessee has been begging me to try it out for awhile now. I have been in the vicinity several times and just hadn't stopped to fish it yet. This weekend I decided I was going to check it out. I arrived at the stream in the early afternoon and was very concerned at first. As I drove along the creek, the streambed was bone dry. However, it became apparent after I arrived at the trailhead that the stream must flow underground because I could hear water. Sure enough, the creek had enough water to keep the fish happy and healthy. So I grabbed my flyrod and started walking upstream. I had not gone very far before my curiosity got the best of me and I tied on a parachute Adams and started casting. The stream was really small so bow and arrow and roll casts were generally the method of operation. I worked upstream and began getting hits. The fish were really spooky and the water was pretty low so I had to go into stealth mode before I actually hooked up. After a couple of small fish, I started to think that maybe the fly was a bit too large so I tied on a small cream softhackle and it was just the ticket. The rainbows would hit it just about anywhere in the stream but I had to be paying very close attention to notice the takes. I was fishing the softhackle upstream and without any kind of weight so the takes were very subtle most of the time. While the day was overall a lot of fun, I probably won't be making trips just to fish this stream. I caught somewhere around 10 fish and worked for each one. The largest fish I saw all day was probably 8 inches and they were all rainbows. Exploring is hard to beat though and I don't consider my day on the water a waste. Someday, somewhere, I WILL find that water that gets fished by only a few people every year where the fish are practically begging me to catch them. However, until I find that stream, the challenge of finding it will keep me checking out these small streams. Eventually, I will find a hidden gem!

Stalking Smallmouth

With the dog days of summer upon us, the area streams are getting low and clear. This creates a great opportunity to combine hunting and fishing. The ability to stalk your prey (the fish) and properly present a fly is of utmost importance at this time of year. I made the 20 minute drive to Daddys Creek, a stream that contains plenty of smallies in addition to redeye bass and other sunfish. I have never done particularly well in my attempts to catch smallmouth, although I'm always able to interest a small one or two in my meager offerings. This day was not much different as far as the smallies were concerned. I managed a couple with the largest pictured here. I also caught some redeye and a pumpkinseed sunfish. The fish were earned the hard way however, as I had to stay out of the water as much as possible and make long casts that landed like a whisper on the still water. Further adding to the difficulty was the streamside vegetation which necessitated an inordinate amount of roll casting. The trip was worth it though when the little 8 inch smallmouth (above) appeared like a ghost underneath my fly before sipping it as gullibly as a 20 inch rainbow on the Firehole River of Yellowstone taking a PMD Sparkle Dun. I gently raised the rod-tip and after a brief battle, I admired the beautiful specimen briefly, snapped a quick picture, and then watched the fish rocket back to whatever midstream lair I had just lured it away from.

Caney Fork Trip

This report is a bit late, but I thought that I would post anyway. I made it down to the Caney Fork Sunday August 13 and Monday August 14. Sunday I fished the whole time at Happy Hollow, arriving at around 3 in the afternoon. The water was still dropping from the morning generation but was at a good wadeable level. I decided to try wet wading for a change as it was very warm. I fished hard for 3 or 4 hours and managed a few fish including this gorgeous 15 inch rainbow (at left). I also caught a nice brown that went about 16 inches. I had just switched to 7x tippet because I knew that the fish should be biting a little better. I spotted the fish working just below me so I made a slack-line cast downstream and the fish ate immediately. Because of the size of the fish, I was very careful to not put too much pressure on the tippet. I took a little longer landing the fish than I would have liked, hence no picture. The fish had enough stress for one day as it was.
On monday, a friend and I decided to try a more out of the way access that he knew about. We arrived at around 8:00 in the morning and started working our way downstream. Just as it was the day before, the fish were not as cooperative as I thought they should be and we worked hard to coax in a few fish. Later in the morning, we moved upstream to Betty's Island and got into a few more fish, mainly recent stocker browns that weren't very large.
Both days I stuck to my tried and true zebra midges and perhaps that is why things seemed slow. I probably should have tried experimenting a little bit more. At Betty's Island, the fish were rising to our dries fairly well which was rather interesting. My friend had a very nice brown of probably 16-18 inches eat his midge dropper at Betty's but could not connect with the fish. This last picture is a typical small brown my friend caught, the first of several for him.

So why fly fishing?

I remember my first fishing trip like it was yesterday. I was 4 or 5 years old and my grandparents were visiting from across the country. My dad or my grandpa, I'm not really sure which, decided that it was time for me to go fishing. Now, my family is not a big fishing family. Some families have a great outdoor tradition deeply rooted in hunting and fishing but not so with mine. However, my dad made that fateful decision that I should get the opportunity to try out fishing. Little did he know at the time of the addiction he had so innocently begun. That first fishing trip to the local State Park lake was absolutely enchanting. I caught three fat bluegill and they were huge, at least to the excited small boy holding a fishing pole for the first time. Luckily, my home was out in the country and the farm down the road had a nice pond full of 'gills. The fish were so hungry that sometimes it only took a bare hook to catch them. As time went on, I progressed from the worms that my dad started me with to buying small soft plastic worms that I fished on jigs.

Sometime early in my fishing career, my family made one of the occasional trips to the Great Smoky Mountains of east Tennessee. I will never forget driving through Townsend and seeing a guy standing in the middle of Little River waving this long fishing pole, line arcing gracefully backwards and forwards and then floating delicately down to the surface of the stream. It was poetry in motion and I was hooked. I knew exactly what kind of fisherman I wanted to be and the type of fish I wanted to catch. However, it was not to be just yet. My fishing career had a few more steps before I got that first fly rod.

Another small pond was discovered when one of my parents friends invited us out to his place. He had a nice pond with the usual bluegills but also bass and catfish. A trip to Walmart and I was ready to go with my new bass lures. Sure enough, I started catching bass, albeit rather small ones. The bass provided a fun new challenge but I was still looking for something more out of my fishing experience. The scene from the mountain stream kept replaying itself in my head until I finally made myself save up the necessary money to go by a cheap walmart fly rod.

I did not know anything about fly fishing and having no one to teach me I probably bought gear that was not matched in any way. I didn't know there were different line weights and rods and reels to fit those rods. I just got what they had at walmart and proceeded to beat the freshly mowed grass as I clumsily began trying to figure out how to cast the crazy thing. Thanks to a couple of books and a video rented from the local movie rental store, I was soon casting far enough to at least go fishing.

I still had no idea what I was doing though so except for a few minnows, I wasn't catching anything. I kept at it though and my parents purchased a slightly better rod for my birthday. By this time I had figured out about the different rod and line weights so I got the appropriate 6 weight line from Walmart for my new rod. During each occasional trip to the Smokies, I would stop at Little River Outfitters (LRO) in Townsend to ask advice and get some flies as I had just started tying my own and they didn't look like real flies yet. Finally, my first rainbow came on Anthony Creek in Cades Cove on a Gold Ribbed Hares Ear nymph and it was pretty accidental. Nevertheless I was thrilled and wanted to catch some more. Following some advice from the good folk at LRO, I soon found a spot and caught some more small rainbows, this time on dry flies.

From there things kept getting better until I was able to catch fish just about every time I went. A half day spent with Walter Babb, an excellent Smokies guide, and I was catching fish consistently on nymphs as well as dries. From there I seemed to improve a lot every single trip, catching more and more fish and larger ones as well. And so why do I keep going? Why fly fishing?

That is a question that I'm sure many other people would like an answer for. Some people will reply that it is for the solitude, the time alone and in nature. For others, it is the challenge of finding the ultimate fish and figuring out how to catch it. For me? Maybe it is a little of everything. Whenever I go fishing, I am able to forget whatever stress happens to be in my life at the moment. My mind becomes completely free and clear surrounded by the majestic natural world. Life seems simple and uncomplicated when I am on the water, particularly when it is a mountain stream and I am by myself. I have had many memorable experiences fishing, and maybe that is why I go, to try and better my previous stories. Or maybe it is to talk with the Creator God who made all this splendor for our enjoyment. Maybe someday I will find out why I fly fish. Until then, I will continue my search for the perfect sream, the perfect fish, the perfect cast and maybe, just maybe I'll find it someday.