The Trout Zone

Floating the Holston River Below Cherokee Dam

2026-03-29T20:52:00.005-05:00

My free time is fairly limited these days. Having a full time job as a fly fishing job doesn't equate to more fishing time, at least not for me. As a result, it is more special than ever when I can get on the water and wet a line for myself. Last Friday, I was fortunate to have the day off due to a cancellation and my buddy and fellow guide Chris Bean was also available. Last year, I got to float the Holston for the first time with him and last week we decided to go for round two. Chris Bean guides the Holston River below Cherokee Dam regularly for both trout and smallmouth, so I was essentially getting the treat of a guided experience.

We put it for a new to me section of river and quickly pushed down from the boat ramp to a series of shoals that looked very fishy. Sure enough. I was throwing streamers and got my first solid hit just above the first shoal. A chunky rainbow came quickly to the net and we were off to the next one.

For probably an hour, I absolutely hammered fish. Chris definitely knew the river well. He kept me positioned well as we approached each riffle and bucket and pointed out the spots that would likely hold fish. I don't have much desire to guide this river (too long of a drive from home), but I was realizing yet again why Chris loves this river so much. The fish were all turbocharged and fought above their weight class. Eventually, however, I found one that matched how it fought.

We were drifting through yet another riffle when Chris pointed out a nice run on the other side of the boat. I quickly repositioned and got a drift set up. The indicator did a little dance and when I set the hook, chaos exploded on the other end. This fish was doing its best to get away. Another riffle just below us beckoned but low side pressure turned it before it could get into the fast water. Eventually I slid the big rainbow into the net. I don't take a ton of pictures anymore, but immediately asked Chris if he had a camera handy. This was my personal largest on the Holston River at 20.5" (and on only my second float) and needed documentation. It sure helps to have a guide to fish with. I was finding fish quickly thanks to the expertise of Chris.

At some point, I started to feel a little selfish and relinquished the front of the boat to Chris. He suggested which lines I should take and started catching some for himself. Eventually, we transitioned to a dry/dropper instead of the nymph rig and that is when we really had a blast. Fish were rising to a solid midge hatch, and a good cast into rising fish would almost always get an eat on the midge. We were catching so many fish it was embarrassing at times.

Of course, that calls for experimentation. We figured out what they would eat, so it was time to figure out what they wouldn't eat. As it turns out, pretty much everything worked until the very end of the trip.

A bald eagle flew over the river and midway across spooked a large pod of fish. We both had the same thought: carp. Rowing over, I got my first glimpse of one fish after another and got excited until I realized the carp were mostly missing from this school. These were primarily buffalo which aren't nearly as easy a target (in my experience) as carp are. The one or two carp I spotted were soon spooked, and we finally packed it in to get home before our wives got worried.

It had been a highly successful day of fishing. The Holston River will just fish better and better over the next few weeks, so if you are interested in trying it out, just reach out and we'll get you scheduled to fish with Chris.

Hidden Hikes

2026-03-10T17:51:00.001-05:00

Some of my favorite hiking here on the Cumberland Plateau is that way because of the lack of other people. Having a famous national park not too far away is a good way to keep people away from less desirable destinations. Of course, there are lots of places in the Smokies to get away from crowds as well, but even on the best days you'll generally see at least a few other hikers.

Here on the Plateau, it is still possible to hike all day and not see another soul. To be fair, it is becoming more and more rare, but it still happens. This past winter, I even pulled that feat off on one of my favorite hikes, Virgin Falls. That is truly becoming a difficult proposition, but it still happens from time to time. Other lesser known trails and hikes are more likely to provide that treat.

Of course, to keep them that way, I can't really talk about where they are or provide too many details. A bit of sleuthing might even help you find some of my favorites even if I don't name them now. That said, a recent trip was more of a treat than usual for reasons beyond the lack of other hikers.

I did something I don't do nearly as often as I ought to: I carried my big DSLR and a couple of lenses. Turns out I really just needed one lens for the things I took pictures of, but it was nice to have options. What makes this hike go from special to magnificent is a little off trail jaunt that brings the hiker to incredible pools of spring water. These off trail jaunts are a lot of fun this time of year and often yield spectacular wildflowers as well. On this trip, the flowers were just barely getting going, so we enjoyed what we could and focused on other scenery.

In the end, I took several favorite pictures but one stood out more than the rest. I'll share all of them below, culminating in that favorite shot. I hope you enjoy!

February Newsletter from Trout Zone Anglers

2026-02-02T18:50:00.003-06:00

If you do not receive my guide businesses email newsletter but are interested in reading, here is a link to our current newsletter for February 2026. Please share this newsletter with your fishing friends and feel free to subscribe via the button on the newsletter (either top or bottom of the newsletter page depending on your platform). Thanks for reading!

https://mailchi.mp/38fdef6ed46c/news-from-trout-zone-anglers-february-2026

Dry Flies In January

2026-01-15T14:40:00.002-06:00

While every year is different, most winters allow some good fishing opportunities in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Timing is everything, but those trout still need to eat. Even on days with very cold water temperatures, at least a few fish can be found. If we get a mid winter warm up, then the fishing can be truly special.

Last week, I hosted my other guides for a Trout Zone Anglers guide get together to debrief from 2025. It involved some fishing time as well, which ended up being perfect as far as timing is concerned. It just so happened to coincide with one of those winter warm spells that makes the birds think spring has arrived. With the sounds of spring, we went hunting wild trout in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I expected to see a few midges and winter stoneflies, but was pleasantly surprised to find little black caddis also hatching. Once that hatch gets started, quill gordon and blue quill activity is not far behind.

We strung up one of my favorites, a 1 weight old Orvis Superfine from when they still made rods that looked cool. It is well documented on this blog how I love those old Superfines, and I was excited to let my guides have a go at it as well.

It didn't take long for them to discover the downside to these rods. The soft action and full flex makes setting the hook tough on fast little wild trout. Still, everyone quickly got the hang of it and soon we were catching fish on a variety of small dry flies and midge patterns. The fish were clearly hungry and their metabolisms were starting to hum right along in the warming water. Just a few days later, that water temperature would crash and put a long pause on the bug activity, but for the moment, the fish were feeding just like it was spring.

My favorite fish of the morning happened in one of the better pools. I expected a fish in this hole faster than it ended up happening, but it did eventually happen. The small parachute Adams combined with a Zebra midge was proving deadly. You had to really pay attention to see the little dry fly on the water, but the fish didn't seem to have any problems finding it. Even more found the tiny midge in the fast currents of a Smoky Mountain stream.

We fished for a couple of hours, talking fishing, business, guiding, and just enjoying the day. The air got warmer and warmer and the bugs and fish were really going strong. I almost regretted stopping for lunch, but the plan was to head over to the Peaceful Side Social in Townsend, and there was no way I was missing out on that. I like pizza more than I should, and they have an excellent Margherita pizza that I try to enjoy a handful of times each year. Over lunch, we discussed areas we could improve as guides and also improve our overall business operations. Once that meeting ended, however, I had a little time left to kill and wanted to fish some more. So, back out I went.

I just kept fishing the same rod from the morning session. The only change I might have made was to switch from a 7' 6" 1 weight rod to a 6' 6" 2 weight, so it wasn't worth the hassle of breaking one rod down and assembling another. I decided to hit a section of water that I hadn't fished for maybe 20 years. Not that it isn't a good section, there are definitely fish in there, I just hadn't fished it for a long time.

The afternoon section was a little tougher, and it wasn't until I noticed a few wet spots on rocks that I realized someone else had already fished the section. Not to be deterred, I decided to stick it out as my time was starting to run out. In the end, I caught a few fish, enough to keep me interested, and enjoyed some water I rarely fish.

My best fish in the afternoon hit the dry fly so hard it almost made me jump. I had worked through an obvious big deep beautiful pool without much action. This was about the time I was realizing I was on used water. Then, fishing the head, I tossed my rig into some fast water. As soon as the dry fly hit the pillow in front of a rock, this rainbow rocketed out of the depths to eat it.

After releasing the pretty little rainbow, I was reminded of an important point on releasing fish in the Smokies. Fish will often crawl under a rock and feel sorry for themselves a while after being caught. I don't know why they do this, but this is very common behavior for the wild trout in our mountain streams and even with our native brook trout. The lesson to take here is that fish will often mistake your wading boots for a nice safe rock and crawl under them. I can't count the number of times I feel a fish immediately burrow under my boot when standing in a stream after I release them. This is an easy moment to severely injure or kill fish, but the solution is also fairly simple. First, pay close attention to where the fish goes after you release it. With luck, it will jet out into the stream and avoid problems in the first place, However, if it crawls under a rock or you don't actually know where it went, be VERY careful backing out of the spot to not accidentally crush the fish. I'll try to make one single step out onto dry rocks if at all possible. Don't step into loose leaf piles (another favorite hiding spot) and don't step onto rocks with obvious hiding spots under them.

Over the last few years, I've been trying to do more things out of the ordinary. That generally means fishing places I don't fish all that often. That could be sections of river I don't hit very often, or it could be fishing new streams all together. On this particular day, it was hitting a piece of water I hadn't fished in a long time. Moving forward, as I head into the late winter and early spring, it will hopefully take me to some more pieces of water that are new or at least rarely visited.

January Newsletter from Trout Zone Anglers

2026-01-07T14:41:00.001-06:00

If you've been waiting for the January newsletter, here it is. As a reminder, you can sign up over at www.troutzoneanglers.com and get this delivered to your inbox at the beginning of each month.

Trout Zone Anglers January 2026 Newsletter

Ruined

2025-12-30T14:36:00.000-06:00

There are certain things that will ruin you as an angler. Of course, by ruin I mean spoil you so thoroughly that you don't want to do anything else. Catching big fish can do this, of course. Finding the perfect rod or rods for a particular application can do this. Recently, a new to me old rod brought on this phenomena. Then, even more recently, a bamboo rod did the same.

It all started when my friend Chuck very generously offered me a bamboo rod. In fact, he offered me my choice between some different rods. After lots of casting, I surprised myself with the rod that fit me perfectly. It was an 8.5' Beasley rod for a 5 weight line. The rod has a lot of power. I enjoy casting, and really enjoy at least having the option of making long casts, and this rod can absolutely punch it out there. However, like most bamboo I've cast, it also has the ability to protect fine tippets, something that is important to me since I often fish 6x and small midges.

Of course, the final determination on any rod is actually catching fish on it. Thus it was that I found myself headed for the river with the boat behind my truck shortly after a gorgeous sunrise. My dad had agreed to join me on this trip which was a treat in itself. We hadn't fished together for years, so it was past time to get a trip on the water with him. The main goal of the trip was to get my dad out and catching a few fish. The bamboo rod was just an after thought. I figured I could anchor up and catch a few to see what I thought of the rod as a fishing tool. It had already been cast enough that I knew I liked how it cast.

We did things a little different on this trip. Since part of the trip was time with my dad, I picked him up at his house. Instead of running our own shuttle which is what we normally do on this water, I was planning to just use the motor to make a long run up the river and then float back down.

When we got to the takeout, the water was fairly high. Flows were up which would allow us to motor upstream through water that otherwise would be too shallow to navigate through with the boat and motor. After dumping the boat in the water and getting my dad situated in the front seat, I fired up the motor and we began a long run upstream. With my little 6 hp motor, it took us more than an hour but eventually we made it all the way up to the next boat ramp. Since it was cold out early, that wasn't all bad. It meant we could stay hunkered down in our warm jackets and let the sun warm things up a little more.

Once we started fishing, I gave my dad a quick refresher primer to get him catching fish quickly. It worked because he started catching fish right away!

Soon we were drifting back downstream on the falling water. The generators had cut off and the fish started feeding heavily. We caught a few and missed a few. Eventually, my dad hooked a fish and it was pulling hard enough that we couldn't just drag it in without risking a break off. I anchored on a shoal and coached him through the fight. Soon, the fish came to the net, but not before I noticed something just behind us, maybe 60 feet upstream. A nice fish had rose to a midge or something similar.

My dad was kind enough to quit fishing while I backed the boat up, anchored in position, and pulled out that beautiful bamboo rod. It was rigged with a Chubby Chernobyl with a Frenchie underneath maybe two and a half to three feet deep. I dropped the rig in just upstream of the active fish and kept adjusting my presentation through mends and line management. Eventually, a few casts later, I got the drift just right and the dry fly dipped as the fish ate the nymph.

The fish was an average stocker rainbow trout, maybe 11 inches in length. Nothing to write home about, but my first fish on this bamboo rod which was neat. We took a picture or two, but I was hustling to get the fish back in the water. You see, while I was fighting it, a big dark shadow chased that fish almost into the net. I'm not sure what the larger fish was planning, but it was very aggressive. I got a fairly good look and could tell it was a big rainbow trout. Of course, my first thought was to put the bamboo away and pull out a 6 weight and rig a streamer. In fact, I was very close to doing that before I had second thoughts. I had a very clear idea of where that fish had come from, and there really wasn't any reason it shouldn't eat the same nymph the first fish had eaten.

I lined up a cast, made a reach as the line fly on its way to the target, then added another mend or two into the drift. The second time I did the same thing, and the fly drifted aways before dipping convincingly. As soon as I set the hook, I knew I had hooked up with a rocket. The fish was powerful and surged this way and that before deciding that the best strategy was to head downstream as quickly as possible. I had put an old Orvis Battenkill reel on the bamboo rod and that reel was screaming. It probably needed some grease, and it didn't sound like it would survive the encounter. My heart sank as I watched the fly line disappearing and the backing start heading downriver as well.

At that point, I asked my dad for help. We needed to follow, and while he wasn't going to row us after the fish, he could certainly at least pull the anchor rope up for me. He kindly started pulling in the anchor and soon we were at least drifting down after the fish. A little downstream, we lowered the anchor back down as the fish came running back at us. Then, it made another hard run and we bumped down a little further again. Finally, after more runs than I could count, it finally got close to the boat and I told my dad exactly what was about to happen. I needed some help on the net and didn't want things to be ruined at this point.

When we got the fish in the boat, my dad took some pictures for me. This was certainly one of the most memorable fish of the year for me, a true fish of the year candidate even though it only taped out at a touch over 18". It was one of the strongest 18" fish I've ever encountered and a true treat on the bamboo rod. I firmly believe that I likely would have lost that fish on most other rods. The bamboo did an incredible job of protecting the fine tippet and by some miracle the fly held. I've noticed that some (but definitely not all) graphite rods are really bad to bounce or vibrate while fighting a fish, but the natural bamboo material was very quiet throughout the fight.

The rest of the float was anticlimactic. I was worn out. My arm was tired for a while. My dad fished a little more and caught a few more fish including one really nice one, but our day was definitely winding down. I even cast again when a sight fishing opportunity presented itself, catching another rainbow or two on a tiny midge. Still, nothing fishing wise would beat that big rainbow and the workout it gave me. I was now ruined and could envision myself collecting more bamboo rods than I know what to do with. I don't know if that will happen, but I do know that I'll be fishing that Beasley rod again...

Cold Hikes

2025-12-22T21:17:00.000-06:00

Winter is what I like to call "hiking season" because I can't stand the heat and humidity of the southeast. I'd rather be a little on the cool side of comfortable rather than too hot. There are days that push this preference to the limit, however.

Recently, I've been trying to both jog or run and also get as many hikes in as possible. That doesn't always mean I'm getting out a ton, but I'm doing what I can considering I have a full time job as a fly fishing guide and a family that needs plenty of my time as well. A big chunk of my motivation is simply staying in shape, but more specifically, I'm also having visions of backpacking trips to the Wind River range again in pursuit of golden trout. To enjoy a trip like that requires excellent conditioning. Unfortunately, I'm now entering the stage of life where I can't get into peak backpacking shape in 2-4 weeks of jogging.

Thus it was that I recently found myself trying to decide between a quick jog around the neighborhood or a hike up a nearby mountain. Both would work great for getting my heart rate elevated. The seriously cold air convinced me a hike was smarter. I find it difficult to jog when it is below freezing. Gasping subfreezing air is just not fun. Hiking is another story since I can vary my activity level just a little up or down to maintain my breathing.

The day before, we had enjoyed a family hike. This was a short walk, a little over 2 miles, and was perfect for everyone. I could carry our youngest in the kid carrier (effectively making my workout more intense which I need), while our oldest can walk the whole way so Mama doesn't have too hard a hike. We find some beautiful scenes, including a waterfall that had a lot more water in it than last time we had visited.

The next day, I was looking for more exercise, so I headed out with temperatures in the teens and falling. When I got to the trailhead and got out of my car, I briefly wondered what I had gotten myself into. The trail immediately ascends seemingly straight up the mountain. That helped initially, since it got my heart rate up and enough blood pumping to warm me up a little. Once the trail leveled out a little at the top of the first big rise, I knew this was going to be an interesting hike.

My chosen trail was a portion of the Cumberland Trail up Brady Mountain starting at the highway 68 trailhead. This particular trailhead isn't too far from home, so I can get there quickly. It also features significant (for my area) elevation that is great for someone specifically looking for a good cardio workout. That quick elevation gain gets you to the ridge line of Brady Mountain. On a cold post frontal day, that means a northwest breeze, or in the case of my particular day, gusty winds. Wind chills were almost certainly well down in the single digits and my face was quickly getting chilled. Holding my hands up to shield my face during the worst gusts helped, and I continued ascending the mountain.

I had seen a glimmer of white near the crest as I was driving to the trailhead. These mountains on the Cumberland Plateau (and also in the Smokies) will frequently get heavy rime ice buildup in the winter. I've enjoyed hiking in this magical scene once or twice, but it had been a while.

Sure enough, as I got close to the top for my hike which was a false summit that leads to one of the best overlooks you've ever seen, I started seeing ice buildup on the trees and bushes. It was far from the best I have ever seen, but not bad for a quick hike when I didn't have much in the way of expectations beyond just enjoying nature and getting fresh air.

The wind was intense until I hit the big flat on top. Once I got away from that western edge of the mountain, the wind relaxed significantly. In fact, it was so warm at the Brady Bluff overlook of Grassy Cove that I could have relaxed, ate lunch, and otherwise enjoyed my time. Alas, I hadn't brought lunch on this hike (it was a workout hike after all), so I sipped some water quickly, took a couple of very imperfect cellphone panoramas of the view, and headed back.

The wind was even worse if that is possible. Heading down the mountain, I was moving directly into the teeth of the raging wind. On the way up (heading south), I had been shielding the right side of my face. Now I shielded the right side of my face and started to jog. I was getting cold and needed both to warm up and also to get down in elevation and out of the wind. I had long since stopped kicking myself for forgetting my neck gaiter which is AWESOME in the wind. Originally purchased for skiing in Colorado where temps are often in the single digits, it has come in handy for cold weather fishing here in Tennessee and also cold weather hiking.

The jogging helped a little with warming me up, but the real trick for warming up was just getting down the hill in a hurry and into my nice warm car. Once I cranked the heat up, I was thankful that I had gotten up the mountain on such a blustery day. Scenes I got to enjoy are something most people will never get to see. Next time we get a good chance for rime ice, I'll be back up there looking again. Next time I'll have my neck gaiter and maybe an extra jacket just in case....

December Newsletter

2025-12-14T21:29:00.905-06:00

If you haven't received our latest newsletter or are not subscribed, here is a link to check it out. There are some fun goodies in this one including some good musky stuff.

https://mailchi.mp/27ebf2f34ccd/news-from-trout-zone-anglers-december-2025

Into the Wild Beyond: Day Three

2025-12-11T13:43:00.001-06:00

By the end of our fishing on day two of our big adventure, we had a decision to make. Continue to fish the stream that we had caught an inordinate number of fish on that day or go back to the stream that we had fished for an hour or two the first evening. Deciding where to fish can be a difficult decision, but it didn't take us long to decide to return to the first stream for a full day this time.

The next morning, we woke up and went about our morning routine. Mine included granola from Good to Go, which was quickly becoming a favorite. I'm into "healthy" whatever that means, and the granola was full of seeds, dried wild blueberries, and other goodies, making it power packed with nutrients. My usual backpacking breakfast was oatmeal, and this was a nice change of pace from that game plan.

Eventually, as with most mornings on a fishing trip, we both found ourselves moving faster and faster as we knocked out all of the small camp tasks and got ourselves ready for the fishing. Both of us wanted to get in a good long day of fishing with time to cover lots of ground. My goal for the day was simple: I just wanted to see some new-to-me water.

We headed quickly upstream, jumping past water that we had fished on our first evening in camp. It wasn't that we didn't think we could catch fish again in that section (we could have), but instead it was a deliberate effort towards our goal of covering as much water as possible. Having only made it a short distance above camp on our first evening, it didn't take long to get to our starting point.

The morning started a little slow. We were catching fish, but in these types of backcountry locations, you expect fish to practically jump out of the water into your hands, and it wasn't quite that easy. Of course, fishing can ebb and flow over the course of a day. Weather, stream flows, hatches, moon phase, and many other factors can all contribute to fish being active or not. Eventually, things started picking up and we were catching fish, or at least getting hits, in enough spots to keep us laser focused.

Returning to a piece of water after years away is always fun. Seeing favorite pools, new log jams, and how the stream has changed is always interesting. These changes are exacerbated by time away, when lots of little changes have added up to some big changes. Most of the stream was about like I remembered it, but there were some differences as well. New channels were cut, leaving some spots almost dry while others carried water like never before. Fish were about where you would expect, but just enough came out of strange spots to keep us covering all of the water thoroughly.

The biggest surprise that we had already noticed on our first evening of fishing was the lack of rainbow trout. It wasn't that we didn't catch any, because we did, but overall, the numbers of rainbow trout versus brookies was stacked strongly in favor of the brook trout. I only caught a handful of rainbows on the entire trip. My buddy Elam caught a few more than I did, but still not many. That was super encouraging even if it was only a short term trend that will likely be reversed after just one or two years of good spawning conditions for the invasive rainbow trout. Hopefully the brook trout have a highly successful spawn this fall and get another boost in their numbers before the rainbows really start to ramp back up next year.

The day was pleasant, with just enough fall colors to add extra beauty to the scene constantly unfolding around us. The transition happened above a long flat that I had fished several times before. The stream hit another very steep section. I had been to the top of the big pool that was at the base of the steep section, but not beyond. I was now entering new-to-me territory.

We continued up through the steep terrain, and I noticed that fish were not as plentiful. We were still catching plenty, but overall numbers seemed a little lower than below. This particular section of stream turns into an extended section of high gradient bedrock with very little spawning habitat. I suspect that the lower fish numbers was a by-product of the lack of good spawning habitat, relying on fish moving in from above or below. Based on our topo maps and some other research, there were plenty of flatter sections above again. However, I wouldn't make it that far on this day.

I was starting to get tired and it was getting late in the day. Knowing I had the long return hike downstream had me feeling cautious. My buddy Elam was still full of energy (oh to be young again!), but I was starting to realize I needed to be careful. This came to a head when I slipped while climbing a steep bank to get around a boulder and deep pool. Slipping, I busted my knuckles pretty bad and started bleeding. I've got to the point that I know when to let well enough alone, and just a short distance beyond, I told Elam that he was welcome to keep fishing as long as he wanted, but I was going to call it for the day. I settled in to relax stream side while he headed up a little further. I know my own limitations these days, and when I start making mistakes, that is my warning. The next mistake could be costly as far as we were from civilization or even good trail access.

The stream was absolutely gorgeous in this stretch. I stopped just below a major plunge over a massive bedrock headwall. It looked like things might level back off up around the corner, but I wasn't certain of that. Later, when Elam came nimbly rock hopping back down the stream, he confirmed that it did indeed level back off into another long stretch of lower gradient water. This stream is very interesting because it is a mix of long low gradient sections interspersed with very high gradient sections that would be incredible to see at high flows. The bedrock was polished smooth and gave us a faint idea of what kind of forces work on this terrain on a regular basis throughout the year.

On this last day, our overall numbers were again excellent by the end of the day. Not as insane as the prior day, but the average size was pretty good. We never did catch any giants, probably not even breaking 10 inches on the brook trout, but coming close a few times. The water is beautiful, however, and the size of the habitat suggests that larger brook trout in the 11-12 inch range are certainly possible. I'll be back again, to scout even further upstream, constantly pushing into new and unexplored (by me) terrain. That's what it's all about for me where I'm at in my fly fishing journey.

As we headed back down the stream, we hit some of the spots we either skipped or didn't fish hard enough on the way up. At one spot, a massive log jam was even more impressive from the top side, and we stopped long enough for some pictures as Elam had to climb to the top. However, the light was starting to lessen, and I wanted to get back in time to eat before dark. We hit a couple more pools and then headed on back to camp. The next day was our last, and I wanted to get up and on the trail to hike back to civilization fairly early. The last weather forecast I had seen suggested rain might be moving in, and I hoped we could beat it back.

That night in camp, our conversation turned to the majesty of this hidden gem. Elam agreed that it was indeed one of the best streams he had fished in the Smokies, largely because the catching was only a piece of the equation. Instead, the constant reminders of the sheer power of nature around us were humbling and awe inspiring and encouraged us to return again and again to this magical place. At the end of the day, I could write the same thing about any number of backcountry streams, for the magic is in the solitude resulting from the long walk in. Only a few fortunate people will ever see most of these places, and the ones who do come will have earned the right to be there. Earning the right also enhances a person's appreciation of these wild places. It is a sacred responsibility to know about these places, one that no one should take lightly. We are simply visitors trying to blend in as best we can and leave it the same as or better than we found it. In this day of the internet ruining fishing spots like never before, there are still places that shouldn't be spoken of by name, and this is one of them.

New Old Rods

2025-11-25T13:23:00.001-06:00

Human nature causes us to look on the past with nostalgia. That can be dangerous, of course. One of my history professors in college liked to remind us that "there was no such thing as the good old days because the life expectancy back then was in the 30 year range." That's fair enough, but was there a golden age for fly rods? Ask ten different fly anglers and you'll get ten different answers on that. A newbie fly angler who just upgraded to the most expensive rod from the likes of Scott, Orvis, G Loomis, Winston, or any of the other popular rod manufacturers will tell you that this indeed is the best fly rod ever made. Manufacturers regularly bill their newest as the best ever. That's at least partially forgivable since they are in the business of selling products that require at least some level of marketing. That said, if the rods are really all that, won't they sell themselves? That's a question for a different day. What I'm really interested in is my personal all time favorite rod series.

My Favorite Rods

While some of the newest and best rods are truly incredible, my favorites, other than whatever rod is in my hand catching fish at any given time, are the original graphite Superfine rods from Orvis. They are hands down some of the most fun to fish. Thankfully they don't have the terrible "label" on the rod blank just above the handle of the newer Orvis rods (which also go a long ways towards keeping me from buying any current Orvis rod). I would probably buy several of the new ones if it wasn't for that goofy label as they are otherwise incredible rods. The blanks are unsanded (one of my favorite features), and they have the small Superfine grips that don't fatigue my hand while casting. Oh, and they flex. They are incredible soft, loading deeply into the blank for some of the most fun you can have fishing small streams. They are also in fairly high demand, meaning you can expect to pay at minimum close to original retail for one and often even more.

My first "nice" fly rod was a Superfine "Tight Loop" (an 8' 4 weight rod), and I have since found a couple more of these original Superfine graphite rods in other models. Most recently, I was on the prowl for a "One Ounce." This rod is a 6' 6" 2 weight that weighs one ounce. It sounded too good to be true. On paper, it was the perfect brook trout rod and also great for delicate dry fly presentations to any small or medium sized trout.

Finding My Next Superfine

After watching for one on again and off again for several years, I finally got a heads up from my buddy Trevor who buys and sells rods regularly. He is great at tracking down hard to find rods and he had found one at a reasonable price point. I could have had one before this point, but wasn't willing to spend way more than original retail to get it. The rod looked good in pictures and when it was delivered, I took it out and examined it. Everything was in good shape, I just needed a good excuse to fish it.

Fast forward a few months and it was time for my annual fall camping trip. This year, it was the camping trip that almost didn't happen. Then, one day, I had a conversation with my buddy John that got me excited to go and thankfully I still had some days free. We made a plan and before I knew it, the time had arrived.

Fishing My New Old Superfine Rod

Almost as an afterthought, I threw the One Ounce in my truck when I was packing for the camping trip. I figured maybe there would be some dry fly opportunities. When the day of departure arrived, we nearly skipped going. The forecast was for the first major cold front of the season to bring snow and very cold temperatures to the Smokies and broader southeastern US. Still, it looked like we might get some decent fishing on our first afternoon and perhaps the next day as well.

I got a slightly later start than intended, but eventually was on the road and headed for the mountains. Of course, a stop at Little River Outfitters in Townsend was needed. I usually think of something I need, but at minimum I like to stop and say hi to the guys at the shop. On this trip, I was after a new line for a reel I had sitting around that would work on my new Superfine. After that stop, we headed over the top of Newfound Gap and down the other side to Smokemont Campground. I've been doing a fall camping trip there for years and always enjoy the crisp cool mornings and good late autumn fishing. Dry fly opportunities are often excellent around this time of year, with low flows common. Anglers should be very cautious of brook and brown trout spawning and avoid walking through redds and spawning areas.

When we arrived at the campground, the sun was shining and while the wind was starting to pick up with the front coming in, we knew that this would be the warmest water of our whole trip. In other words, we needed to get out there and fish hard. Since I wanted to make sure and fish the new-to-me old rod, I put it carefully together and pulled out a small Parachute Adams. Surely there would be at least one or two fish rising.

We walked over to the stream and started working up a nice low gradient section. Not too long into our session, I spied a smallish trout holding in a nice slick that was rising fairly steadily. Exactly the kind of fish I was looking for. It took a couple of casts to get the fly in the right spot due to the strong wind, but the fish ate as soon as I got a good drift. I whiffed. Seriously. Not once, but twice.

Still, the fish was rising. I figured out it was more likely to eat if I cast farther above it instead of close, so I started casting 4 or 5 feet above the fish to set up a good drift. On my second or third cast up there, a fish I never saw came up and inhaled the fly. Thankfully, even though I was focused on my initial target, I was paying enough attention to set the hook and a lively fight ensued. Turns out I caught the larger of the two fish in that run which suited me just fine. My first trout on the "One Ounce" was a very respectable brown trout and on a dry fly no less.

The rest of the day was anticlimactic. I did catch another fish or two, still all on dry flies. One rainbow in particular was fun. I missed it on my first drift through a strong back eddy below a boulder. The fish was facing directly towards me when it ate, and I simply pulled the fly completely out of its mouth.

Thankfully, it didn't feel the hook, and on the next drift it ate again. I waited a little longer to set the hook to let the fish turn, and immediately felt the 2 weight rod bend deeply as the lively rainbow ran hard into the current. After a fun fight, an average Smoky Mountain rainbow trout came to hand.

The next day saw some incredible dry fly fishing on Deep Creek, but the weather was much colder. In fact, things were getting nasty enough and cold enough that we decided the smart idea probably involved heading home earlier than intended. Low temperatures our second night were forecast to be in the low to mid teens. Sleeping would have been fine, but getting up the next morning and crawling out of a warm sleeping bag would have been miserable.

I made it home in time to enjoy our first snowfall of the season on the Cumberland Plateau and appreciated my nice warm bed more than usual. The first expedition with my new old rod was a success. Now I just need to find a good time to go brook trout fishing with it...

Find more information on a Smokies fly fishing guide HERE.

Into the Wild Beyond: Day Two

2025-11-17T21:32:00.001-06:00

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

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.

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.

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.

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?

Find information on guided fly fishing trips in the Smokies HERE.

Monthly Newsletter

2025-11-02T20:47:00.006-06:00

If you subscribe to my monthly newsletter for Trout Zone Anglers (my guide service), you should have already received this. If not, here is the November newsletter. Want to see other articles or information in the newsletter? Let me know what you would like to see included, and I'll see what I can do.

News from Trout Zone Anglers: November 2025

Fleeting Fall Colors

2025-10-31T11:13:00.004-05:00

Every year, I look forward with anticipation to the fall colors. Every year, the colors do not last long enough. That is probably part of the allure. Such fleeting enjoyment adds to the mystique and leaves me grasping at the slightest hints of autumn. In some years, I find the first beautifully colored leaf in June, sometimes in July, very rarely as late as August. Of course, those aren't true fall colors, but leaves that happened to dry up and die prematurely for this reason or that. Still, they help build the anticipation and excitement for the main event to come.

This year, we headed up to a favorite hike where we hit the colors just right once upon a time. Ever since, we've tried to replicate that one magical day and apparently, it is harder to do than it seemed the first time. It was a great hike, don't get me wrong, but the colors were past peak on the brightest candidates (maples, etc) and barely even started on others (oaks, etc).

A few days ago, we hit a new to us trail that we've been meaning to hike for a while. It was short enough for the whole family and had the possibility of some nice colors. Turns out that we really enjoyed the hike and will be back, and the colors were good but not great. That seems to be the theme this year.

Some of it comes down to lighting. If you see the colors in the right light, they can really pop. Often that means a rainy day. We drove through Fall Creek Falls recently, and found some really nice color. Maybe not the best I've ever seen in Tennessee, but very nice.

Of course, my job gives me a better opportunity than most to enjoy the colors. Just yesterday, I was taking in the colors on the Clinch while my client battled gorgeous wild rainbow trout. Being a Smokies fly fishing guide is one of my favorite things imaginable, largely because, well, I get to spend a lot of time in the Great Smoky Mountains. Every October, I book an inordinate number of trips up there. While my work as a fly fishing guide has really morphed into more of a float guide, I still do a decent number of wade trips. I go where the trips book and, while more or less booked as much as I want, still can't get too picky on where those trips book. I feel fortunate to spend the highest percentage of any month in the Smokies during color season. Some years are better than others, but every year provides its own magical moments.

Now, as we morph into the winter months, I'm looking forward to a lot more hiking than I get accomplished in the warmer months and a little more personal fishing as well. Still, if I could stretch the fall season out a little longer, I'd do it in a heartbeat, especially if I could preserve those gorgeous fall colors a little longer.

Into The Wild Beyond: Day One

2025-10-28T21:46:00.003-05:00

Fishing accessible water is always great for a quick fix, but more and more I find myself striving for new to me water. That usually involves some hiking, at least locally. I've exhausted the vast majority of accessible roadside water in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. As a Great Smoky Mountains fly fishing guide, that kind of water is my bread and butter, and some days I enjoy fishing it for myself. However, there is also something to be said for seeing more remote water, preferably that I haven't fished before. That's why my fly fishing adventures are revolving around backpacking more than ever these days.

Life has been busy, however. I actually hadn't been backpacking since my epic golden trout adventure in the Wind River range. If you missed all of those, here is a link to each article.

Planning A New Trip

Since that epic trip, my adventures have been great including a phenomenal trip to the White River in Arkansas, but my backpacking took a back seat to more important family concerns. This year, with both little ones and Mama doing well, I decided it was time to get back into the wild beyond of the Great Smoky Mountains again. I've had a couple of camping trips, but while they are a blast, car camping just isn't the same as backpacking.

It took me some time, but I finally ~~conned~~ convinced my buddy Elam, the fly fishing manager at Backberry Farm, to join me on the grueling trek deep into the backcountry. Most of my other friends looked at the elevation profile of my chosen trail and the distance from trailhead to the campsite, and decided no way. Elam hadn't been backpacking before, a point that shocked not only me but all of my friends who know him as well. This probably contributed to him agreeing to the hike. Regardless, the plans were made and campsite booked. Soon, the day of departure arrived and we were driving to the trailhead to begin our adventure.

The Hike In

My backpack felt heavier than I remembered on my Wyoming trip, probably because I had to carry wading gear instead of just fishing from the banks on high country lakes. Maybe it was because I'm getting soft in my old age. I had started some intentional exercise back up, and this made a tremendous difference for me on the hike. Still, there is no way to prepare yourself physically to lug 40 pounds up the side of a mountain other than just doing it.

The hike over the mountains was brutal. Per the usual, I did better than I expected and also worse than I expected. The steep uphill grade was tough, but a profusion of wildflowers made the trek more manageable. In addition to the normal water breaks, we also stopped from time to time to enjoy the wildflowers. Late season asters, gentians, goldenrod, lobelia, and other goodies made the time move slightly faster than what felt like a glacial pace anytime I focused on the heavy pack on my back.

After several miles, we finally hit the crest and started down the other side. The plants and wildflowers changed dramatically as the far side of the ridge didn't have the same light angle and levels. There were still plenty of interesting things, but it wasn't until we got down close to camp that we started finding good numbers of wildflowers again.

Target Stream Acquired

One of the big moments on any backpacking trip is the first clue that you're getting close to your home for the next few days. On this trip, that first hint was the sound of our target stream cascading through the bottom of the gorge below the trail. The first whisper of sound actually came to us shortly after cresting the ridge. That sound got more and more obvious as we approached the campsite.

Upon arriving at the campsite, located close to the stream, we started setting up camp. The forecast indicated that rain was possible just about any time during our trip, and while overall chances weren't crazy high, we didn't want to set up in a downpour. That task accomplished, we both started eying the stream. I had snacked on my lunch on the hike in, so I was ready to wet a line before thinking about supper.

With multiple good fishing options close to camp, the first evening was dedicated to the obvious water closest to camp. That is how I often go about my backpacking trips, and this was not going to be an exception. We had apparently set up camp just in the nick of time. A light shower started up at the same time we began casting our dry/dropper rigs. Before long, we were enjoying our first trout and char of the trip.

Interestingly, the char took the front seat and this from a section of stream that had historically contained a lot of rainbow trout. More on that in a future post covering a day later in the trip, but needless to say we were both excited to see such good numbers of brook trout early in the trip.

We continued working upstream, catching fish in more places than not. The light shower and evening light even produced some magic over the water. I looked downstream over my shoulder and immediately had to turn around and just enjoy the show that nature was putting on.

Not much further, we had to climb around a boulder and ran into some local wildlife in the course of doing so. I was hoping that this wasn't a harbinger of things to come.

Big Brook Trout

Two highlights occurred that first evening and both involved larger brook trout. The first was one of my first fish. I had cast a dry/dropper rig with a green weenie up into a faster riffle with a small pocket. When the dry fly dropped, I didn't expect much of a fish, but immediately realized it was a pretty nice trout. You can imagine my surprise when I got its head up and saw a colored up brook trout instead of the chunky rainbow trout I expected. My buddy Elam ran over with the net, and I was soon enjoying my first 9"+ brookie of the trip. After a couple of pictures, I watched it slide back into the current to be caught another day.

A ways further up the stream, I climbed over a huge boulder, and then up onto another one. I could see a giant pot on the other side if I just barely peaked over the top. I dropped my flies in and a big ol' brook trout smoked the dry fly. This was another exciting fight, except I knew a lot sooner that I was dealing with a brookie. I think Elam could tell I was excited because he had the net there very fast.

After those two fish, I started really slowing down and trying to let Elam enjoy the best spots. My evening and even trip was already made, and I was starting to think about getting back to camp to dry off and eat supper. Even with that, we both caught a few more before calling it a day. We hadn't been seriously counting numbers, but for such a short session, we had caught a lot of fish.

Evening In Camp

After heading back to camp, we got ready for supper. Light was fading fast by the time we wrapped up eating and headed for our tents. I was happy to crawl in and enjoy my warm sleeping bag. After a long hot summer, night time at relatively high elevation in the Smokies was fairly cool. My poor aching muscles were also glad for the rest. I needed to get my energy up for a long two days of fishing ahead before I had to think about carrying that heavy pack back over the mountains. The next day would see me back on my favorite brook trout stream...

Remote Floats

2025-09-30T20:47:00.001-05:00

Fishing new water is always exciting. Whether wading or floating, seeing a piece of water for the first time is a treat that shouldn't be taken lightly. After all, given enough time, an angler can exhaust most of their local options for seeing new water. It takes a while, but eventually you realize that you've seen most of the places there are to fish in your neck of the woods.

For me, there are some rivers that I've seen almost every fishable inch, and others that I can honestly say I've fished, but definitely wouldn't say I've got them dialed in yet. That only comes with repetition, more for some people than others, but still requires a decent number of fishing trips. I'm fortunate that I'm blessed with a memory for water. Take me to a stream one time, and I've got a pretty good idea about fishing it in the future.

On new to me water, the lack of any pre knowledge makes for an exciting day. The constant discovery process is invigorating. Recently, I got to do just that on two separate occasions. The more recent was a backpacking trip in the Smokies that I'll get to in another post. The other occasion was what seems ages ago, but was really not even a month and a half ago. My good friend and fellow fly fishing guide and smallmouth guru Chris Bean was up for an adventure and had the perfect boat for scouting remote smallmouth water. I had some insight on a put-in and take-out option, and a plan was hatched.

We met at the take-out, then drove up to the sketchy boat launch well upriver. The more I hang out with these smallmouth guys, the more I realize that the term "boat launch" is a pretty loose concept. Regardless, we got the raft in the water, and started working our way down the river.

Things were slower than either of us liked, but we were catching some fish. For this trip, catching fish was really just the icing on the cake. More than anything, it was about a remote float on a new to each of us piece of water. We did both have opportunities and also both caught some nice fish. We both lost fish that would likely have been a new personal best, but things slowed down by mid morning. It all made sense when Chris took a water temp and we discovered it was in the mid 80s. Those summer heat waves are hard on anglers and fish and this day was no exception.

We should have seen it coming. The heat had been building all day. In fact, when we finally had to jump out of the boat after bumping through countless riffles without getting hung up, it was almost a relief. The water, although hot, was better than the air temperature at that point. Of course, heat leads to instability, and instability leads to thundershowers.

By the time we were clearing the last significant riffle and jumped back in the boat, the sky was turning darker. I don't mind fishing in the rain. I do it more than I really like thanks to my job as a fly fishing guide. Oddly enough I've morphed into a fair weather angler, all the more strange because I still love a good rainy day, but the one place I always draw the line is with lightning.

I was keeping a close eye on the storm via a radar app on my phone. It was clearly bearing down on us and doubtful if we were going to stay dry. It hadn't been thundering too much until it got close. Then things got interesting in a hurry. When lightning started hitting the ridge just above us, it was time to pull over. I jumped out on a huge flat rock ledge and we told stories for a while. A glance up river suggested the heaviest rain hadn't even started yet.

Eventually, the storm eased on past and the lightning moved on to our south. The thunder got softer and softer until we felt quite safe getting back out on the water. Hopeful that the cooldown would send the fish into a feeding frenzy, we started fishing hard the last bit of our day.

Chris rolled a big bass or two on a streamer, but I was starting to wind down. I've noticed that I don't fish as hard as I used to most of the time. Knowing when to quit is almost as important as going in the first place. Happy to row while Chris fished, I guided the boat slowly downstream as the rain receded into the distance. The late day feeding frenzy didn't seem likely and we both were needing to get home at a reasonable hour.

The rest of our trip was anticlimactic, running the shuttle, pulling the boat out, essential tasks like that. We were both already plotting a return, however. New water won't become old hat without at least a few visits. Both of us left wanting to return and dial things in a little better. We agreed that a little more flow would be nice, however.

Summer Adventures Way Up High in the Smoky Mountains

2025-08-31T12:19:00.000-05:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

What It's All About

2025-07-30T21:18:00.001-05:00

Fly fishing has been a way of life for me since I took the plunge from the relative security of teaching to being a guide. Really, it probably goes back a lot farther. I still tell people all the time about the bad student I was in college. At the beginning of each semester, I would peruse each syllabus for attendance information, then carefully plan on missing the maximum number of classes possible without getting my grade docked. This was all in the name of going fishing of course. Occasionally I would make a mistake and get sick after using up my allotted skip days, so my GPA was never as pretty as I was capable. Not bad, mind you, but not as good as it probably should have been.

One of my favorite things about fly fishing early in my career was the solitude. I fished on my own more than anything, although I had several great fishing buddies as well, some of whom I fish with to this day whenever we can make it happen. Still, even with this desire for solitude, I still enjoyed the human component. Over time, I made friends with the good folks at Little River Outfitters, eventually even working a summer there during college.

Becoming a fly fishing guide really sped up a transition in my preference for fishing with friends. Nowadays, I'm much less likely to go fishing on my own, although I still enjoy it from time to time. Fishing with clients is still enjoyable to me even after guiding for going on 12 years. In fact, I get about as much enjoyment out of watching someone else catch fish than doing it myself. All of that said, I still enjoy the process of the sport. The intersection of science and art that is fly fishing provides a creative outlet that never gets old.

Last week, I was guiding on the Clinch River one of several days. Upon launching the drift boat, I backed out into the little pool at the foot of the ramp and anchored up for a few moments while we double checked rigging and otherwise prepared for the fast approaching fishing. As a guide and amateur naturalist, I'm always taking everything in. Accordingly, I glanced over the side of the boat and noticed a small dead fish in the bottom of the boat ramp pool. Intrigued, I quickly employed my boat net to fish it out.

A nondescript dark olive and black mottled sculpin was the reward for my effort. I showed it to my clients and took the appropriate pictures. That evening, I sat down for a burst of creativity. You see, the next day I was going fishing. Not taking someone fishing, but going fishing. I made certain of my proportions, referred back to the photo for the color scheme, and otherwise was as precise as possible while also enjoying the creative artsy element of fly design at least as much if not more than the more scientific side of things. Soon, I had a very close match of the sculpin from that morning and was ready to go fishing.

The next morning, I was on the road bright and early. Upon arriving at the takeout ramp to await my friends Pat (fellow fly fishing guide at TZA) and Matt (biologist, professor, author of "Fly Fishing for Redeye Bass" and fellow fly angler), I rigged up one rod. I was going to more or less stick to streamer fishing. On a whim, I also rigged a nymph rod but ultimately only fished it for about 5 minutes on this day. My newly tied sculpin went on the streamer rod with a 250 grain Orvis depth charge line.

After my buddies arrived and we drove up to the put in, I started the day on the oars. I wasn't really interested in general fishing. No, I had some big fish to chase with my new sculpin. We worked through some sections of river and picked up a few fish on nymphs. Both Pat and Matt were doing a good job of getting drifts where we needed to. The fish were the usual quality rainbow trout that the Clinch River is known for. Healthy specimens that often average 14-16 inches on many days, we were enjoying the acrobatics they provided. Eventually, we got to a section of river that I was interested in streamer fishing and Pat graciously jumped on the oars for a while.

A few half hearted follows later, I jumped back on the oars to let Pat fish the better nymph water. There are certain sections that tend to hold larger fish, and I was most interested in streamer fishing where the big brown trout live. I have caught plenty of brown trout up to 22 or 23 inches on the Clinch, but never any giants on a streamer, and I set that goal for myself a while back. I haven't been as diligent as I should be but try to streamer fish there at least a couple of days a year.

Eventually, we got below some of the best nymph water and were fast approaching prime streamer water. Pat again switched with me and I started hunting with the newly created sculpin. Sure enough, as we dropped into the first good run, a big fish slammed the streamer as it came over a drop-off. I stripped hard and felt good resistance briefly before the line went slack. So close and yet so far. That fish would have easily gone 22 or 23 inches and perhaps larger, a good start towards my goal of a big fish on a streamer. When I think of big brown trout on streamers, I'm really looking more for a fish in the mid to high twenty inch range or better, but I won't grumble about any quality brown trout.

After that nice missed fish, I quickly nailed a smaller brown in the 14 or so inch range and soon thereafter, had another heartbreaker. We were drifting through a huge but short pool between ledges. I had cast as far as I could and was simply working the fly erratically through the depths when I spied an absolute giant swing and miss on my fly. It was the one I've been looking for, easily. After grousing about it for a minute, I got back in the game and soon got a nice rainbow. Pat kindly took a picture for me with my new fly prominently in the trout's mouth. It was small consolation for the monster that had just eluded me.

In the end, however, that is what keeps us going back. Those missed fish are on replay in my mind and keep driving me back for another go. Later in the float, I missed 2 more very nice trout that I would like to have another shot at, but that will have to be for another day. I finished my streamer fishing with three fish to hand, one big brown missed, and another giant spotted that didn't quite eat the fly. Best of all, my new fly easy had the approval from the fish. That is the important part and what fly fishing is all about. Matching their natural food source, presenting the fly, and catching a fish. With time, the camaraderie becomes more and more important, but at the end of the day, I still want to catch a fish, maybe design a new fly, and best of all, continue to learn more and more about this wonderful sport.

Hiking Season

2024-12-31T15:18:00.003-06:00

If you've followed this blog for any length of time, then you probably know that I enjoy hiking almost as much as fishing. Photography is a close second as well. For the past handful of years, I've been running into a good problem to have. My fly fishing guide business here in middle and east Tennessee keeps me busy enough that it can be tough finding time for other things that I enjoy.

While you won't hear me complaining about having enough work, it can be a challenge to stay in shape. As my business has grown, more and more of those trips have been float trips. I enjoy working out of the drift boat, but being a fly fishing guide on the waterways of east and middle Tennessee also means spending large parts of my year in rather sedentary fashion for me. I probably need to devote more time to running or jogging, but it can be hard to find motivation at the end of a long day when I just want to get some supper and spend time with my family. Thus, as trips start to slow down a little in the cold months, I enter into what I like to call hiking season.

In addition to having plenty of time on my hands, it also helps that it is generally cold or at least cool out. Another big reason I don't hike more in the warm months is that I really hate getting thoroughly drenched. If you've ever hiked in the southeast in summer, you know that you'll end up sweating buckets. The humidity is impossible to get away from. This time of year, with the weather being cooler, I get out for exercise and enjoy not overheating. On some days, there can be a fine line between being too cold and too hot, but that is easier to figure out for me than when there is just the option of being too hot.

Recently, with the guide calendar opening up just a little and the weather finally cooling down, I've started spending time hiking more again. The first trip was a big treat.

Hiking Virgin Falls Alone

Over the years, I have hiked the Virgin Falls trail many, many times. I've even hiked it at night. It is one of my favorite trails in the area and at just 30 minutes from my front door, it is easy to get away for a few hours. Recently, I've hiked it twice. The first time was epic. I got to the trailhead, and there was NO ONE THERE. Seriously, no vehicles, no Park rangers, no one. That trail has become popular enough that it is almost impossible to enjoy it that way, but I seriously had the whole entire place to myself.

I've taken to carrying some of my camera gear when I hike. Some days it just serves as weight in my pack as I try to get in better shape. On other days, it actually gets used. When I had all of Virgin Falls to myself, you better believe I used my camera gear. Capturing several of the area falls without anyone intruding into the picture is challenging normally. On this day, it was simply a bonus.

The majority of my "picture" time was spent at Big Laurel Falls. The light was perfect for this time of year and flows were low enough that I could shoot from much closer than normal without covering my lens in spray from the falls. Here are several of my favorite shots of Big Laurel Falls.

After noticing that time was ticking away, I quickly packed up and hustled over to Sheep Cave and then on to Virgin Falls. I still haven't been inspired to shoot Sheep Cave. Maybe I just haven't considered my angles enough yet, but either way I just took a quick selfie on my cellphone to show I had been there, and then kept trucking.

Virgin Falls was another story. I wanted to find some hepatica blooming and knew that the top of the falls was a good bet. I took pictures of the falls (for perspective, it is 110 feet tall) itself, then climbed up to enjoy the top (and a few hepatica!). Every year, I try to find hepatica blooming for as many consecutive months as possible. Virgin Falls and one or two other caves are my best bet for finding them in December and January. By February, the opportunities start to expand and by March, we are at peak bloom for the early spring wildflowers. I got my pictures of the falls, found my wildflowers, then realized the day was growing late.

On the way out, I kept expecting to run into some other hikers, but it just never happened. In fact, when I got back to the trailhead, it was still empty. That is possibly the first time I've ever done that, and certainly the first time in a good long while. I don't expect to enjoy that again too often, so I savored the moment. My tired legs were glad to sit down and point the truck back towards home. I am in poor enough shape that I was dealing with some leg cramps for the last couple of miles of the hike. Thankfully, on my next visit, that problem was almost nonexistent.

Hiking Dry Creek Falls Trail

After that first Virgin Falls hike for this cool season, I made a second return visit a week later. On that trip, there were a few other hikers around, reminding me yet again how special the last visit had been. Thankfully, on this next visit, I didn't have as much trouble with my legs wanting to cramp. A few more hikes and that problem should be in the review mirror for a while at least.

Then, just yesterday, with super nice weather and the threat of some serious winter cold coming soon, we took a family trip down to the Lost Creek vicinity. I talked my dad into joining and we decided to hike the Dry Creek Falls Trail from Lost Creek to Dog Cove. Having been up to Dry Creek Falls via Rylander Cascade one other time but no further, I was excited to hike some new to me trail.

The climb from Lost Creek up to Dry Creek Falls was longer and more sustained than we remembered. Once the trail topped out on the Plateau, I realized why it had felt like such a climb. Still, the hike was pleasant with perfect weather in the 50s with mostly sunny skies.

Once we hit the top of the Plateau, it was easy to make good time. We cruised along until we saw Meditation Rock which required a brief stop. I didn't spend any time there with my camera, but we did enjoy the trail much more from that point on down to Dog Cove. The trail started descending not much farther past Meditation Rock. The trail builders did an excellent job of making the trail as interesting as possible. In one spot, it looped around a GIANT boulder, just because. In another, it sent under a pile of boulders that created an arch of sports, apparently just because again. I like trails that have character and interesting features, so I was glad that they incorporated these interesting sections into the trail.

Just before we started to seriously drop off of the Plateau, I looked around and wondered why there was no sign of any rock climbing. We discovered the reason not too much farther down the trail. Apparently it incorporates a lot of Nature Conservancy land, and rock climbing (among other activities) was expressly forbidden. That is both good and bad. Good because, well, this area will stay wild and protected. Bad because, there are some awesome rocks that would be fun to climb. I haven't climbed much in many years, though, so it isn't much loss for me.

Overall, this is definitely a trail I would hike again. I think next time I'm going to get dropped off in Dog Cove, then hike to Virgin Falls, and get picked up at the Virgin Falls trailhead up on the Plateau. That would be a great day hike!

2024 Year in Review

2024-12-25T20:16:00.002-06:00

This was a great year of fishing for me. I got out on the water less than ever for myself, but ran a ton of guided trips of course. This trend towards less personal fishing has made me focus on quality over quantity. That might involve unusual adventures or even something closer to home but on new to me water or sections of water. For example, on my annual fall camping trip, I fished some new to me water on Noland Creek. I've been slowly working on fishing my way up that drainage, so each trip extends further and further into the backcountry.

Something else that I've started doing is setting myself fishing goals. This helps me stay accountable to put in the time to make good things happen. These goals are usually for the cold season. This past winter I had two goals. I accomplished one. The big brown trout on the Clinch on a streamer didn't happen. The other challenge was because I hadn't personally caught a musky in a good long while, and decided it was time to make it happen again.

The musky just happened to be my personal best (time to break 40" now) at 39" as well and came on a rather unusual technique. Verifying that the technique worked meant as much to me as landing the fish in general, but I was glad to get it done either way. Read more about that musky HERE.

The next grand adventure was the White River in Arkansas. After all these years, I finally made it out to the White River to fly fish. It was an epic trip on so many levels, including some great brown trout. You can read more about that trip HERE. In addition to catching big brown trout on streamers, we also enjoyed the solar eclipse. This event in early April was one of several big celestial events this year that we enjoyed.

The next big event was the cicadas of brood XIX. My favorite thing about these periodic cicadas by far is fishing for carp with big dry flies and this year's emergence didn't disappoint. I guided them for about a month straight and occasionally caught a few for myself as well. Here is an article I did about the joys of fishing the cicada hatch. If you haven't done it before, there is another brood in 2025 that should produce some good action. Here is one of many I caught even in the limited time I got to fish for myself.

While my fishing escapades started to drop off after the cicadas, I still had some good moments. The real treat of the year happened coincident with the great carp cicada fishing, however. It wasn't even fishing related. The northern lights, aurora borealis, descended much further south than usual and blessed us with an epic viewing opportunity here in Tennessee not once, but twice. The first time was the best. You can read more and see pictures from that HERE. While I have a hard time picking my favorite picture from that magical night, here is one of several.

After the epic spring and summer, the second half of 2024 was more mundane for me with one big exception. We had our second little one in July and it has been a grand adventure ever since. This is the real reason I haven't headed off on any more big adventures out west without the family. I want to be around to enjoy everything there is associated with having a little one in the house. I did end up with a little more time than usual, and finally got around to blogging about my Wyoming fly fishing adventure from 2023. Better late than never! Read about each of them using the links below.

I already shared a link in the beginning of this post to my fall camping trip. Other than that, it has been a routine fall and early winter. The big thing recently has been a tangible annual leap forward in my guiding skills and angling knowledge. I'm encouraged that I am still learning a ton every single year. When I quit learning and improving, then I'll get bored with what I'm doing. In the meantime, I'm still out there trying to crack all the codes I can. If you want to get on the water with me and learn some of my newest tricks, feel free to reach out about booking a guided trip. You can find all trip pricing at www.troutzoneanglers.com/rates/ or let me know if you have any questions.

Now, I'm working on fishing goals for 2025. First and foremost, I want to finish the goal that I set for myself last winter: a giant brown trout on the Clinch River on a streamer. I also want to catch more musky, that's always a given, but more importantly, I have a couple of friends that I want to get on a musky as well. Some will be their first time, others have done it but it has been a while. I'm also working on how to possibly get back to the White River in Arkansas again as well as another trip out west. Those trips may or may not happen for the same reason(s) that I haven't gotten out much in the second half of 2024. Time will tell. I also want to hit another epic cicada hatch and this upcoming year looks like a good bet. We should have them in good numbers in east Tennessee. I plan to work on being in better shape/conditioning as well. That will involve more hiking and jogging/running. I've been working on that lately already. See my picture below from a recent hike. Either way, I'm excited to see what the New Year has in store!

Annual Fall Camping Trip in the Smokies: 2024 Version

2024-12-01T21:22:00.004-06:00

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.

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.

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.

Bubbles

2024-10-30T21:02:00.002-05:00

It has been a while since I've shared some tips to up your fly fishing game. While reading is helpful, it doesn't replace in-person coaching via a guided experience. I'm glad to help with that as well, of course. However, sometimes figuring things out at least a little on your own brings joy to the journey. If you need just a little guidance to steer your fishing in more productive directions, this blog post is for you.

While dead drifting (or otherwise) our flies on mountain streams and even larger rivers, we are normally looking for current seams. These changes in current speed (and sometimes even direction) are usually where trout like to hang out, mostly for obvious reasons. They can sit on the "slow" side, expending much less energy than if they sit on the "fast" side. When food drifts by, the fish can dart out, grab it, then go back to a more or less resting position. This is just part of very basic theory on reading water, something most of you have already heard many times.

The thing that has occurred to me recently is that very few people can recognize bubbles, or more accurately, bubble lines. Bubbles are often the best place to fish on a mountain stream. The slower the bubbles are moving, the better, especially if they coincide with deeper water. People also don't recognize back eddies.

Most people look at current tongues, and while that isn't wrong, the focus is often on less productive portions of those current tongues. The heart of the current tongue will hold fish, sometimes even a lot of fish. However, the edges, precisely where those bubbles are, will generally hold a lot more fish.

Now, when I say bubbles, I probably should clarify a bit. What I often refer to as bubble lines on our trout streams are probably more like foam bubble lines. The bubbles are often small bits of foam that are floating along down the edges of the heavier currents. Most current tongues have at least one dominant foam/bubble line on one side or the other, but most have one on each side. The foam bubbles are generally white here in the Smokies. On tailwaters, this time of year in particular, they can take on a dirty white color sometimes even tinged with yellows or browns. In the mountains, that can also happen as more and more leaves fall in the streams, turning everything into a natural tea.

Sometimes, these foam bubbles are swept into back eddies. These almost stationary foam bubbles that slowly swirl in a circle can be some of the very best spots...if there is decent depth. Brook trout in particular like eddies, but both rainbows and browns will utilize them also.

Bubbles are probably most important in the transition seasons. Trout in the spring and fall are more likely to be in locations with intermediate water speeds. In the heat of summer, go ahead and throw your fly right in that fast current. In the winter, you better be fishing the slowest and deepest portions of a pool, at least if water temperatures are cold. But in spring and fall, fish will be transitioning between these two water types, and bubble lines will show you the way to the fish.

Along with those bubble lines, look for buckets. What I mean by a bucket is a small to medium sized depression on the bottom that is deeper than all the surrounding water. If there is a nice sized pocket with good current throughout with an obvious bubble line on both sides, the side that also features a bucket with the bubble line directly overhead will have nearly all of the fish in the pool. If the pool lacks a bucket, go for the deeper side, even if the current is uniform.

All of this isn't to say that fish won't be on the shallow side or that fish won't also live in places other than those buckets, but that type of water will usually hold more and better fish than some of the more marginal water. In other words, if you throw 10 casts in a pool, put 7 on the better side and 3 on the less likely side.

Finally, all of this is well and good, but won't do you any good if you don't get out on the water. I hope these tips help, but the best teacher is simply putting in your time on the water. Get out there and fish!

Here are some examples of the bubbles I was referring to...

The Wyoming Saga: A Bonus Fly Fishing the North Platte River

2024-09-15T11:45:00.003-05:00

Most fly fishing trips have at minimum a general itinerary. If there are guided trips involved, then it is likely a very specific itinerary out of necessity. As a long time fly fishing guide myself, I know how busy guides get, and there is no room for last minute schedule adjustments for most trips even if conditions aren't optimal. That's one thing that makes guides good at what they do if they stay in the business: they have learned to put fish in the net no matter the conditions.

Since our Wyoming trip was completely self guided, we had more flexibility. So, when the first phase of our trip was cut short, we had more wiggle room than anticipated. That ended up being the best decision we made the entire trip for so many reasons. The top two reasons being the incredible winds that would have been miserable to fight all day at high altitude, and the epic experience we had on the famed North Platte River.

Planning a North Platte Fly Fishing Trip

Most things I do in life are researched far too much. Every little facet is explored. This extends to most of my fishing excursions. Since we weren't planning to fish the North Platte River originally, there wasn't time for a thorough study of the fishing situation. So, after packing camp quickly on a cool frosty morning, we drove into town where we enjoyed yet another great breakfast (seriously, we ate there several times and it was excellent every time) at the Heart and Soul Cafe.

Over breakfast, we were both glued to our cellphones more than usual. I was catching up on business each time I had cell signal, but this time we were both researching the North Platte. I was leaning towards heading to the Miracle Mile if for no other reason than I had always wanted to see it and we were close by. The Grey Reef section was another I had heard plenty about, but was mostly boat fishing with limited wade access. I was close to convincing John when he came across some info on an overlooked little tailwater section of the river. It had the added benefit of being a little closer to a good route out of the state (i.e., less gravel road driving). After some debate back and forth, we decided to hit the less famous section. Little did we know what was ahead of us.

Camping Near the North Platte River

There are lots of places to camp near the North Platte River. This particular little tailwater we wanted to fish had a place to camp just upstream on the reservoir above. We hoped it would have some open sites. We needn't have worried. There were very few people around when we arrived.

On the way, I had done a bit more research. Apparently the section we were heading to had a nice meadow section where we would likely spend most of our time along with a wild and rugged canyon section just below. The canyon was notorious for rattlesnakes and mostly best left to rock climbers, or so said the info I could find.

When we arrived, we drove down to look at the river before making a commitment. The hordes of large trout we spotted quickly convinced us to stay. Up to the campground we went to set up camp. My camping gear was a little damp because I put the tent away with dew and frost on it. Thankfully, the intense western sun and low humidity fixed that in about 2 minutes. Another 5 minutes later and my tent was up and ready for sleeping pad, bag, and pillow. That took another 5 minutes. Soon, we were piling back into the truck for a quick evening fishing trip.

24 Hours of Fly Fishing on the North Platte

Normally, when I fish a new river, not only do a research every possible fishing scenario and location, I also plan for several days to learn the new piece of water sufficiently well. On this particular fishing location, we had 24 hours to unlock the secrets of the stream we were fishing. There wasn't a lot of info available online, just the type of scenario that suggests the fishing could be pretty good.

When we got down to the stream, both of us started to treat the little tailwater like the technical piece of water that it was. I was fishing dry/dropper with one of my favorite midges on the bottom. John was stalking some risers that were working steadily. The water looked incredible, but we could tell that our work was cut out for us. I think both of us caught a small wild trout or two, but nothing to write home about. It was looking like we were down to our last day of fishing and needed solutions fast.

Stars Over Wyoming

That night, I decided to stay up a little more than I had been on this trip. I'm normally quick to bed on fishing trips to rebuild my energy for the next day. This had been a trip with some long days of fishing, and I was getting tired. That's always a sign of a good trip, but I really wanted some night sky pictures. Starting at camp and ending my session right down at the water's edge on the big reservoir, I took pictures for much longer than I intended. I also saw a Starlink satellite array go by. It was pretty wild since I didn't know what I was seeing at the time. Thankfully, it was aliens, so I continued my photography and eventually headed back up the hill to camp for a good night's sleep. Here are some pictures from that session.

Cracking the Code on the North Platte

The next morning dawned bright, normal for what is nearly desert in central Wyoming. It is sunny more often than not, so come prepared to take precautions for sunburn. When the sun doesn't get you, the wind will. Wyoming is notorious for wind. We were fortunate to have relatively mild winds during this portion of our trip, but it still gusted from time to time.

We quickly drove down the hill to the stream. John took off for the water while I ate a quick breakfast. I'm a breakfast guy for sure and don't function well without it. I don't need anything fancy, just some calories to get my on my way. Soon, I joined John on the stream and found a big trico hatch coming off. John was in his element. If there is one thing John likes more than anything in fly fishing, it is sight fishing to big fish with dry flies.

Moving around the stream, we headed for a spot where we had found several giant fish the day before. Sure enough, they were feeding hard. I made myself the goal of catching the first big fish I had spotted the evening before. The tricos helped and soon I was making drift after drift over a monster. Eventually, my fly came through just right, the fish made a mistake, and I was hooked up to a rocket on 6x. Things went haywire pretty quick, and I was soon staring at the spot the fish used to break my tippet. Oh well, on to the next fish. The hatch wouldn't last forever.

Despite several big fish hooked, we just didn't land any of the monsters. Huge weed beds, boulders and other obstructions made landing these big tailwater fish a challenge for sure. Still, we were honing in on the right flies, presentations, and where the fish held in the stream.

Working our way slowly downstream, we jumped from run to run. At one likely bend, John made the cast of the trip to a fish working on the far bank over some fast water. The fly had about a 6 inch lane to land in. The fast water between him and the fish meant the drift was nearly impossible. With a slack line presentation and a perfect angle, he got just the right drift and the big fish ate. That fish stayed hooked up a little longer than my big fish higher up the stream, but the result was eventually the same. Tiny hooks, light tippets, and lots of cover were a big challenge.

Monsters Found on the North Platte River

As we neared the end of the meadow section, the dark canyon beckoned. I was starting to think about lunch and didn't want to get into good fishing only to get interrupted by hunger. After a quick trek to the truck for sustenance, we headed down for an afternoon in the upper canyon. Remembering the warnings about rattlesnakes, I was moving slow and really watching my step. If you've followed my blog any length of time, you know how snakes seem to find me (or do I find them?). I'm not paranoid exactly, but I am more cautious than most at this point in life.

It didn't take long in the canyon to start finding fish. My favorite midge pattern was soon accounting for lots of big rainbows. John found a great cuttbow on one as well. These canyon fish mostly didn't have the huge weed beds to burrow into that had caused us so much trouble upstream. Still, giant boulders and innumerable smaller rocks made landing them a challenge.

John's big canyon rainbow was one of the most memorable fish of the afternoon. He was fishing in the first nice pocket where we saw a lot of fish. I had already caught a fish or two, and wanted to get him in on the action. After getting in position, it didn't take him long to hook up. The fish went crazy and was soon well downstream. Due to the nature of the canyon, it was almost impossible to follow with the fly rod. I quickly climbed up the rocks, ran around, and dropped in below John. The hook popped free before I reached the fish, but with a last second lunge, I got the big Brodin ghost net under the fish and scooped before it could race to safety.

Here are some of the fish we caught in that spot in the canyon.

My Trophy Brown Trout on the North Platte River

We were catching just enough to keep us interested and focused. Both of us caught some big rainbows, but there was still the thought in the back of my head that we could be doing better.

The canyon was so rugged that John was content to stop there at the mouth and enjoy that pool. I wanted to explore, so downstream I went. The landscape reminded me of a much smaller version of the Bear Trap Canyon that I had fished with my friend Bryan Allison in Montana several years ago. There, he had taught me the art of jigging for big trout. After fishing my way downstream several pools with my midge nymphing setup with only limited luck, I decided it was time for a change. I pulled my favorite jig streamer out of my pack, beefed up my tippet significantly, and started probing the depths. The fish went wild for it.

Big rocky canyons with tons of undercut boulders are perfect for this technique. My 10' 3 weight Orvis Recon was the ideal tool for the job. Soon, I was moving more big fish than I had seen the entire time on this river. A couple of big rainbows later, I started moving back upstream towards where I had left John. The day was growing late and it was time to start thinking about winding things up.

In one particular spot, I had waded under the base of a high cliff through water where I couldn't really see bottom. By some careful maneuvering, I had managed to avoid slipping into the seemingly bottomless holes between the boulders. On my upstream journey, I again carefully threaded my way through this section, leaning against the cliff face for extra balance and support. The pool alongside was a good one, and I worked the jig through the different likely holding spots. Finding nothing, I continued upstream.

Just above the pool, a massive pile of boulders nearly blocked the entire river. Water was running under and around the huge rocks. A small pocket that I nearly overlooked called for a quick cast as I walked by. A huge dark shadow shot out from under one of the boulders and swiped at my streamer but missed.

Shaking, I settled down to really work the spot. This was the fish I was looking for, I was sure of it.
The next cast produced nothing, then I through a little further left, right on the current seam. One jig with my rod tip, and something big grabbed the fly. I had been catching rainbows including some big ones, and immediately I thought that this could be the biggest rainbow I had ever hooked. It was pulling like a freight train.

The fish ran downstream into the pool with the cliff face and wrapped me around a boulder on the far side of the current. As it rolled to the surface downstream of the rock, the distinct butter yellow sides nearly made me lose my mind. At this moment, I was certain I would lose the fish. Not only was it wrapped around the rock, I had the sketchy deep water below the cliff to navigate while also not losing the big brown trout if I wanted any chance of landing him.

Plunging in, I somehow stumbled through the deep water without getting too wet. My waders might have gotten a splash or two over the top, but I was so locked in that I didn't notice. Emerging on the bottom side of the cliff, I got my rod up and the line slid off of the offending rock. Certain the fish was gone, you can imagine my surprise when the line was still tight. The fish made a run for the next big boulder pile downstream, but at this point I started really cranking to put an end to the fight. The 3x tippet held up, and soon one of the nicest brown trout I've ever landed slid into my net.

Now, I have caught larger brown trout, but maybe none more impressive once you factor in the big jaw and the coloration. This fish was already preparing for the upcoming spawn which was a month or month and a half away, and I was lucky to have crossed paths with him. After some quick pictures, I let this gorgeous buck brown slide back into his pool. At that moment, I was done fishing. That was the fish of the trip, hands down. Heart still beating, I carefully, climbed, maneuvered, and hiked my way back up to John.

After telling him about my fish, I suggested that I would probably head back up. I didn't know if I would even cast any more after this fish.

John's Big Cuttbow

Before heading up, I glanced back in the first good pool that John had been fishing and saw a couple of big fish. I told John to not give up yet, because there were still some monsters working the pool. After telling him about the jig I was using, he decided to give it a try. I moved up on top of some boulders to act as a spotter.

John started fishing to a dark smudge that kept appearing in some faster water. We weren't really sure what it was, and when John finally hooked the fish, we had some problems. The fast water and a strong fish were a recipe for minimal success, but somehow John guided the fish towards where I had jumped down with my net. Soon, we had another memorable fish in the net. The heavy tippet we used for the jig streamer made landing these hot fish possible.

After that fish, John was also ready for some different scenery, and the meadow water was calling him back up. Before long, we were slowly climbing our way out of the boulder strewn pocket water, keeping an eye out for rattlesnakes, and eventually emerged back into the brilliantly lit meadow. Late afternoon sun was slanting in just above the ridge line and lit up the entire meadow in brilliant hues of orange.

Last Fish Encore

The rest of the trip was anticlimactic. We found a pool or two open that had been continuously occupied since we had arrived on this stream. My curiosity got the best of me, and I went ahead and rerigged
for midge fishing. That was a good decision, because I had one more memorable fish to catch.

The last big rainbow and final fish of the trip for me hit in a piece of faster water and came to the net in golden late day light. It was the perfect ending to a very memorable trip. John kindly snapped a couple of pictures for me. Ever since, I've been dreaming about how to get back to the North Platte. It was certainly good to me, and I still want to see the Miracle Mile...

The Wyoming Saga: Fly Fishing the Green River For Days

2024-09-01T11:55:00.003-05:00

After getting a small taste that first evening in camp, I was excited to really explore this new to me section of the Green River. Having read about this incredible fishery, I knew it had some serious potential. Only time would reveal some of the secrets held by this fine trout stream.

The interesting thing about this trip is that it helped me make significant strides forward as both an angler and a guide, at least in one way. Even as long as I've been fishing, I still learn a TON every single year. In fact, the longer I fish and learn the more I realize how little I actually know. Still, each bit of knowledge adds up to enough information to be dangerous. I'll return to this idea a bit later. For now, let's dive right into the Green River.

Day One Fly Fishing the Green River in Wyoming

The cool morning had us up and out of our sleeping bags and in the warm truck as soon as the sun came up. It was frosty, and neither of us were prepared mentally for that I think. Still, the warm truck got us excited while the cool morning kept us driving all the way to Green River Lakes. After a quick look around, we drove a short distance back downstream to a spot we had passed on the way up. A nice high vantage point quickly gave us the opportunity to spot several very large trout. Even better, a light hatch was coming off, apparently a few tricos and some blue-winged olives.

We quickly rigged up. The warm sun had things downright comfortable at this point, and we were soon casting to rising fish. I say fish instead of trout, because we would learn some interesting things about this rise in subsequent days. For now, we assumed we were only casting at trout and our success affirmed that perspective. Several quality trout and some much larger fish missed later, the hatch petered out.

Trying to extend the morning, I switched to a nymph rig and managed one hard pulling native, a whitefish. The big brown trout I had originally spotted in the pool eventually eased away in all the commotion, and finally we decided it was time to move. I'm not much of a stationary angler, and we had already fished that one pool very hard. It was time to cover water.

Moving downstream in the truck, we found several other great spots to fish. To be fair, aren't they all? My favorite section was a piece of beautiful meadow water that reminded me of some of my favorite brown trout streams across the west. My favorite rig was put together for that scenario (top secret, sorry!) and I caught a few fish including a nicer brown trout. By this point, lunch had come and gone and the day was winding down.

We wanted to fish that water back in camp again, so we headed back for a relaxed evening of supper and fishing at camp. A few fish were caught, but nothing noteworthy, and it was time to get some sleep in preparation for another big day the next day.

Day Two Fly Fishing the Green River in Wyoming

On our second day on the Green River, we wanted to hit some of the incredible meandering meadow sections that we had passed going up the valley on our first day. Undercut bends went on for seemingly miles. John's truck could pretty much go anywhere we wanted to, so there weren't really any limitations on accessibility. We finally settled on a section that had those big sweeping bends that look so fishy.

While I didn't have any particular big goals for the Green River, John was locked in on fishing big dry flies. I was experimenting with various methods and flies and catching a few here in there, but John persevered with some big foam and was ultimately rewarded with our best fish of the day by far. It was an incredible eat that happened after he had seen a rise on the far bank. The fly had to be within inches of the bank, and a great cast got it in the feeding lane. A big slurp, a great hook set, then some serious side pressure as the fish dove for cover all worked to get the big rainbow trout out in the open.

I happened to be close by at the moment and helped with the net while also witnessing the eat. It was an incredible sequence and was our first really nice fish of the trip. It got us excited to keep fishing hard for a few more days. I eventually caught a few on dry flies as well, so it was an exciting day.

It was on this second day that I made an interesting discovery that would lead to my enlightenment. John's big rainbow kept us focused to work all the way through a long section centered on where we had parked the truck. We were getting close to turning around when a particularly deep bend pool caught my attention, mostly because of the high bank above it that allowed me a good view of the stream.

We covered a lot of water, but this pool in particular had me intrigued. We fished our way through and on up until we ran into some other anglers before turning around. On the way back down, I wanted to look at that one pool again. Sure enough, when I climbed up high for a view, I saw some big dark shadows. By this time we were starting to recognize whitefish versus trout and the majority of these big shadows (quite a few actually) were big brown trout for the most part. I didn't have one big "Ah Ha" moment, but the wheels started turning.

Following Days Fly Fishing the Green River in Wyoming

The next few days were more of the same with a town trip or two thrown in for good measure. We also made the long run down to the first big tailwater on the Green below Fontenelle Reservoir. Unfortunately, water temperatures there were significantly elevated near 70 degrees, so that adventure ended up as a bust.

On one particularly relaxing day, we ran up to the same pool we fished on our first day. It was cloudy with a threat of rain, and the bugs poured off. It was just exactly as you imagined and dreamed of. The only problem was that we didn't see as many of the big fish as we had on our first day. Then we noticed even more rises down in the heart of the pool. I had caught one nice brook trout and John and got a fish or two, but overall we felt like there was an opportunity to do much better if we could just crack the code.

The possibility of something amazing convinced us to cross the stream and drop down the far bank. The fish were rising hard and good dry fly fishing has to be enjoyed whenever possible. It took a while to hook that first fish, and I don't really remember which of us did that. What I do remember is that it was a whitefish. Okay, no problem, there are lots of other rises, so on to the next one.

After we had each caught several whitefish, it began to dawn on both of us that maybe, just maybe, all of these podded up fish were whitefish. Dry fly fishing is exciting no matter what, and I recalled a story in one of John books about fishing on the Madison for rising whitefish. Still, they were whitefish and not trout. Both of us were there for trout, rightly or wrongly. Eventually, we tore ourselves away from the still voracious feeding and went looking for other options.

One section had more gradient than much of the valley and appealed to me because it looked more like the water I was used to back home in the Smokies. We made a point to fish through the heavier pocket water, runs, and fast pools and caught a lot of nice fish on nymphs. Nothing noteworthy, mind you, but still a good time.

It was at the end of that section that both of us realized that the ongoing cloudy weather could produce a good evening hatch back at camp. We headed back intent on taking advantage of another opportunity to fish the camp pool. It turned out to be the right call.

The Camp Pool

That evening, we got a little burst of late sunshine. That was just what we needed to trigger that evening hatch. Bugs started to pop as the sun sank lower over the western hills. Fish started rising, slowly at first, then more and more. It was a difficult pool to fish. Apparently all the fish were well aware of the camp and the fact that pressure almost always came from that side of the river. Thus, the best rises were right in the far current or across it along the far bank and structure. It required long accurate casts, stack mends or similar for slack, and maybe even a reach cast.

We both downsized to 6x tippet for the small bugs that were hatching. A spinner fall started and the fish went from the occasional rise to a feeding frenzy in minutes. We took turns every other fish. The best spot was towards the middle and back of the pool and the long casts required meant you couldn't fish too close to each other.

Both of us lost several flies to some rather large fish that made quick work of our 6x. John finally got the eat of the evening on a long cast to the far bank. He got just the right mend, fed a little slack into the drift, then the fly was sipped by an athletic rainbow trout. While not the largest fish of our trip, it was easily one of the most memorable. It was one of those moments that burns into your memory and will bring me back to fish that same pool again someday. The light was fading fast when John landed that fine rainbow trout. We gave a few more casts out of general principle, but it was clear that the rise was just about done.

Back To the Brown Trout Pool on the Green River in Wyoming

On our last day on the Green, we weren't certain that it would even be the last day. Our trip still had several days, but because we had gotten ahead of schedule by cutting our backpacking short, we had some wiggle room. The North Platte had come up in conversation and we were learning towards starting back towards home with a stop at the North Platte along the way. However, I had one place I wanted to revisit: the brown trout pool we had discovered on our second day fishing the Green River.

Something else had happened between our first discovery and our final visit. We had noticed a Subaru with rod racks making the rounds of the valley just like us. They had Wyoming tags and at least appeared to maybe be local. One day, as we were passing by, we noticed them pulled off at this particular location and scrambling in a beeline down the hillside to fish that pool. That was my second clue that this pool was a special place.

I had also had time to reflect on many of the streams I have fished closer to home. It was occurring to me, slowly but surely, that brown trout will stack up in a handful of spots prior to the spawn and often much earlier than most people realized. I know quite a few places where they will be congregating by sometime in July, both here in Tennessee and out west. My suspicious were growing that in just a few days on this new to me stream, we had stumbled onto one of these extra special spots full of big fish. The spawn was still plenty far enough away that we could fish for them in good conscience.

The day was cloudy, perfect for chasing brown trout. The roads were seriously messy. The deep mud was slick and I was thankful we were in John's truck. When we got to our spot, we eased down a side road and parked out of the way. The made driving down seemed extra slick. When we got out of the truck, we realized it wasn't just a little slick, it was like greased ice. Oh well, we were here now.

My fishing pack was reorganized for this final day on the Green. I had switched out some fly boxes and was fully prepared for targeting big browns podded up in deep water. A quick glance from above confirmed that they were still there. I also saw one of the biggest shadows gliding around that I've seen in a long time. A fish in the 15+ pound class and over 30 inches was just one of the monsters in this pool. Unfortunately, it soon disappeared and never made an appearance again. The other quality fish were still there waiting for us though.

We started working the pool with deep nymph rigs and plenty of weight. I cycled through my favorite flies for brown trout in this particular scenario. Eventually, we started getting some eats. Some were big whitefish, but some were quality brown trout. The biggest fish eluded us, giving me some major incentive to return to this spot someday, but we found some great fish. Fittingly, our fish of the trip on the Green River came on our last day which is as it should be.

At some point while fishing that pool, the light became some of the most dramatic of the whole trip. Dark clouds in the background framed the brilliant foreground, lit up by the late season sun. It provided the perfect setting for fishing this great pool.

By the time both of us had caught a quality brown trout or two, our minds were going back to the truck. We had a steep hillside to get back up and the slick mud had us slightly concerned. While we could have fished that pool for the rest of the day, neither of us wanted to be stuck for the night. Working on getting ourselves out of the potential predicament and hitting some water with better access to round out our day seemed like the thing to do.

Finishing Our Green River Adventure in Wyoming

We hiked up the hill to the truck and got everything put away. Then it was time for the moment of truth. John fired up the truck and started backing up the hill. That initial part wasn't too bad, and despite some slipping and sliding, he was soon on the final short section approaching the main road. This was where things got really sketchy.

John already had the truck in 4WD. That part was mandatory just to get back up to where we were. The next part would challenge the off road credentials of this truck. I won't drag this part out other than to say that before all was said and done, we were using crawl control, driving through fields, bouncing over rocks, and by some miracle eventually cresting the rise back onto the main rode. The truck was already super dirty, so it wasn't obvious from appearances that we had been through quite the adventure getting back on the road. Thankfully, that is what these trucks are made for.

Cruising back down the main (also dirt, but better) road, we agreed on one thing in particular: the rest of our fishing that day would be in spots where we didn't risk getting stuck. It had been a close call. That actually took us to some neat spots, but it was clear that our trip was winding down. Everything that I wanted to explore had been explore, but checking a new river off my list sounded good.

That evening in camp, we discussed our options and decided to make the drive over to the North Platte. We didn't even know where on the North Platte. That would be determined the next day with some cell service in town and our old friend Google. We got as much ready to travel as possible that evening, then hit crawled into our tents for one last night with the Green lulling us to sleep as it chattered away behind camp. Little did we dream that the best was yet to come...

Opportunity To Have Your Voice Heard on Tennessee Fishing Regulations

2024-08-31T21:03:00.003-05:00

Here in Tennessee, TWRA will solicit comments through from hunters and anglers about the regulations they would like to see implemented. Right now, that is happening through mid September for fishing regulations for the 2025-2026 years. While I generally have little hope of any serious changes happening that will result in improvements in our fisheries, there is always a chance.

I have written in and made several recommendations. Here are some of my ideas along with commentary on why it would be useful.

First, all of my comments revolve around trout fishing primarily, but the general principles will apply to other fisheries as well if that is what you care about. A little background is important to understand my perspective.

I have been fly fishing for somewhere close to 30 years and fishing the Caney Fork for probably 25 or more of those years. When I first started fishing the Caney Fork River, it was before Center Hill Dam was "repaired" for leakage and the continuous minimum flow was stupendous. The biggest thing that the minimum flow did, other than keep cold oxygenated water in the river, was to make it harder for people to access every nook and cranny in the river. In other words, the fish had plenty of places they could hide to avoid the heaviest fishing pressure.

Fast forward to now, and not only is the minimum flow lower than it was then (despite whatever the Corps of Engineers claims) but the number of anglers and other river users has sky rocketed. That's not all bad, but it has been hard on the trout fishery. While many anglers pursue catch and release, there are also many people who choose to harvest their catch, some legally and others without regard for the regulations. That last bit is a separate issue, but the main point here is that more fish than ever are leaving the river.

As long as I've been fishing the Caney Fork, it has been more cyclic than any other water that I fish. Some of that is driven by weather and environmental factors, but a huge component is simply fishing pressure. It goes something like this. Each cycle begins with the river fishing poorly. Word gets out that fishing on the Caney is terrible, and people quit wasting their time and money to come and fish it. For the next 2-4 years, the fishery gradually improves as more and more fish are able to hold over due to one simple factor: they are being left in the river. Unfortunately, word eventually gets out that the Caney Fork is back and fishing is on fire. All the anglers who want to catch and keep their limit return in force. Soon, everyone is talking about how it is like the good old days. Plenty of fish including lots of nice ones are being caught. However, the river can only lose so many fish before the fishery yet once again collapses and the cycle continues.

Right now, we have special regulations on the Caney Fork River. Those regulations allow for only one fish over 20" a day to be harvested. I've seen anglers with stringers of big trout, so enforcement would help a lot, but that is not the only problem. The fact that fish over 20" can be harvested means that there are very few fish over 20" in the river. Brown trout have to be a minimum of 24" and you can only harvest one per day. What does that mean? As soon as browns hit that 24" mark, they are usually harvested. If not right at 24", almost always within just 2-3 inches of that mark. Thus, while the Caney Fork could be absolutely full of big trout, they get harvested right about the time they are getting to a truly special size and you can forget about many ever getting to truly impressive dimensions.

This brings me to my first recommendation. I would like to see a 30" minimum size for brown trout regulation enacted on both the Caney Fork River and the Clinch River. Both rivers are capable of growing big brown trout about as fast as one could hope for. While it is great that we have reasonably decent numbers of smaller brown trout on the Caney Fork, I am far more interested in catching browns over 24" than I am in catching brown trout under 24". Imagine, if you will, a river where catching brown trout over 24" is almost a given. That is what the Caney Fork could be. However, it not only needs to be protected through vigorous enforcement, but also with special regulations.

Both the Caney Fork and Clinch have the same problem with rainbow trout. Both rivers have a 14"-20" protected length range (PLR). Fish in the PLR must be immediately released. That means that both rivers have some nice fish between 14" and 20", but as soon as fish hit 20" they are harvested. I would propose expanding at least the top end of the PLR to 24" and it wouldn't hurt my feelings to expand the bottom end on the Clinch.

Speaking of the Clinch River, as it is now acknowledged as a wild rainbow trout fishery, albeit a somewhat fragile one, it needs a significant overhaul on regulations. First, the daily 7 fish limit needs to be significantly reduced. I would suggest a two fish a day limit if we can't just have a catch and release river. Furthermore, I would suggest making everything from the bottom of Miller Island upstream to the weir dam a catch and release zone. While unlikely to be implemented, catch and release zones are crucial to protecting spawning fish. For examples, look to some of the best trout waters in the country which have seasonal catch and release zones or even total closures (which I could support as well if it can be determined when most of the spawning success happens). There is a reason why everyone wants to go fish the White River in Arkansas, and the quality fishery is largely driven by special regulations, catch and release zones, and seasonal closures.

Finally, at a minimum, the Clinch needs to have a seasonal fishing closure from just above (say 50 yards upstream) the mouth of Clear Creek extending down to the weir. There are a variety of reasons why this section is so crucial, but it all revolves around spawning class fish. The water above the weir dam often has major water quality issues with low dissolved oxygen in the late summer and early fall. Clear Creek contributes water with very high dissolved oxygen (DO) and fish spawn in Clear Creek as well. Thus, just prior to spawning, spawning fish will stack up in the high DO water coming out of Clear Creek. Unfortunately, a lot of people know this and catch these spawners and put them on stringers. Right now, that is completely legal albeit not ethical. Changing the regulations to protect these fish will go a long ways towards rebuilding the wild rainbow trout fishery on this river to what we saw 5-10 years ago.

If you are interested in seeing better fisheries here in Tennessee, then reach out to TWRA and share your thoughts on what can be done to improve our fisheries. I would suggest asking for a 30" minimum size limit on brown trout on the Caney Fork and Clinch. I would also strongly suggest a seasonal closure OR catch and release zone on the Clinch River around Clear Creek down to the weir dam at minimum. Submit your comments at:

https://stateoftennessee.formstack.com/forms/2024fishingregcomments

The Wyoming Saga: Changing Gears Onward to the Green River

2024-08-24T21:26:00.005-05:00

Most fishing trips have unexpected moments. Our first came rather early in the trip with the bad wind day, but timing-wise it allowed some neat things to happen since it freed up a couple of days on our loose itinerary. We just wouldn't find that out until later. Still, this was my first Wyoming fishing trip outside of Yellowstone National Park. The very expensive non-resident fishing license had deterred me in the past and likely will in the future. It is hard to justify paying that kind of money for a fishing license when I can get a Yellowstone National Park fishing license and enjoy some of my favorite streams and rivers anywhere with excellent fishing. Still, there were moments in this trip that will require revisiting for further exploration. The Wind River golden trout trip is definitely going to happen again, for example.

Hiking Out of the Winds

Our goal that morning was simple: bust our butts back down the trail to John's truck, drive over South Pass, and on to Pinedale. Just north of town, John knew of a little campground that was right on the Green River. He also knew some good places to eat in Pinedale and even though it hadn't been long, backpacker dinners were starting to get old. That was motivation enough for me. I'm always a sucker for food.

We started hiking out early while the shadows were still long and it was nice and cool. We weren't in such a hurry that I forgot to take some pictures both in camp before leaving and also along the way. There was a small patch of fireweed just behind our camp. That morning, the rising sun light up the flowers perfectly while deep shadows lingered behind.

A little further above camp, a small colony of pikas had shown themselves while we were hiking up to the golden trout lake. They have to be one of my favorite (maybe even THE favorite?!?!) alpine and subalpine critters, and it is always a major highlight of my trips to the higher mountains out west to see them. I chased them up and down this rocky gully for a bit before the thought of that good food in Pinedale got me moving.

Fishing On the Hike Out

Hiking out, we didn't see too many interesting critters. There were a lot of squirrels active, however. It was getting a little late in the season and they were working overtime to get ready for the next winter season. I'm always a sucker for any animal photos, so I would periodically stop and try to get a creative shot of them.

A bit more interesting than squirrels was the fishing. We stopped at the first lake we had hit on the hike in. There were just as many fish cruising around even if the wind was much worse than on our hike in. Still, we found a sheltered shoreline where many fish were cruising. Not only did I add another big (to me) tiger, but I also added a cutthroat to my total trip catch tally. I caught more brook trout as well, but didn't bother to photograph anymore because none of them on this day were noteworthy.

I also managed a selfie that showed me looking a lot more tired than I was actually feeling. It also showed the Peak Design capture clip. Notice a clip on both shoulder straps which enabled me to balance the strain on each side of my body by switching back and forth from time to time. This proved key to keeping my back, shoulders, and neck happy and not too sore. I tend towards having back and neck problems, so this innovated way of carrying the camera probably would NOT work well for me if I was just carrying it on one side the entire hike. As it was, I really enjoyed the system and got a few pictures that I wouldn't have otherwise of gotten.

Driving Out of the Winds to Pinedale

The road out was decent but not great. I was glad that we had John's truck instead of my car. The car would have made it, but we made much better time in the truck and it took the ride just like it was supposed to. As we started to turn the corner from the east side of the Winds into South Pass, the already breezy day really started to howl.

The winds were cranking through South Pass. By the time we were approaching the Green River basin, the sky was full of dust and haze from blowing particulates. This was a windstorm of epic proportions and we were both thankful to not be hiking high in the Wind River mountains trying to camp or get a camp stove to burn long enough to boil water for our meals.

At this point, I was just hoping that the winds would relax enough to pitch camp on the Green so I could get a good night's rest. We still had that stop in Pinedale as well.

Town Trip to Pinedale

By the time we cruised into Pinedale, both of us were hungry. Things like getting groceries for the next several days of camping or stopping by the local fly shop could wait. We had to find something to eat. John had been to the Wind River Brewing Company before and knew they had good food. We pulled in and found one of the last few parking spots. A full parking lot is always a good sign for food quality even if it means you'll end up waiting longer for food.

Thankfully, they had our food out quickly. I had the Street Tacos with sautéed veggies and they were delicious. It doesn't take much to make me happy, and a good meal after backpacker dinners really hit the spot. After taking care of that, we headed to the grocery and made a stop by the local fly shop.

The guys in the Two Rivers Fishing Co. were helpful and friendly, something I've come to realize isn't to be expected in all western fly shops. They gave us a few tips and we quickly finished our shopping in town. The hour was getting late and we still needed to go find a campsite and get setup before dark.

Camping at Whiskey Grove Campground

Heading out of town, we turned up 352 towards the vast National Forest land in the headwaters of the Green River. The Whiskey Grove Campground was just a short distance down the rougher gravel/dirt road that continued all the way up to Green River Lakes. John knew of a great fishing spot behind the campground, so it didn't take much more to convince me that this would make a good base camp.

We pulled in and got lucky with one of the last good spots down by the river. I would get to fall asleep to the sound of a fine riffle on the Green just behind my tent. However, I didn't go to bed before catching my first Green River trout. The pool behind camp was just too good and I wanted to work a jig streamer. I rolled several very nice trout, and finally landed a nice little brown trout to continue my collection of different species on my trip list. This was a great welcome to a new-to-me section of the Green River. I had only previously fished the Flaming Gorge tailwater in Utah. It was a promising start to the biggest part of our trip in terms of time..