Camping and Fly-fishing in the Smokies

My husband and I are going camping this weekend with the express purpose of fly-fishing in the small streams of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.  We've not used our 1966 Cox Camper in a couple years, but I absolutely love camping in the trailer that I grew up in.  It's still in amazing condition because a: they don't make things like they used to, and b: it's been very well taken care of for the last almost 50 years.  Hopefully it will serve us well again when we haul it up and over Newfound Gap to Smokemont Campground near Cherokee, NC.

The plan is to fish above the campground in Bradley Fork, possibly even moving up into Chasteen Creek.  We will probably give the larger Oconaluftee River a go while we're there, but we'll stay in the Park to fish because hubby doesn't have a NC fishing license (a TN license is valid as long as you stay in the Park).  Anyway, much of the Oconaluftee that isn't in the Park is on Cherokee Reservation land and that requires a different type of permit altogether.  I've also heard that Raven Fork is a nice stream, but I'll have to ask someone once we get over there how to get to it if we decide to fish that stream.

In preparation for this trip, we've been trying to learn more about fishing techniques that are particularly effective in the small streams we'll be in over the weekend.  An excellent resource that we've found valuable are some online videos (from YouTube) created by R and R Fly Fishing, a husband and wife duo that runs a guide business in this area. They have their own YouTube "channel," so you might want to check it out.  They both seem knowledgable and eager to help other anglers improve their techniques and thus, their success.  We've learned much about how to hide and not disturb the water any more than necessary in order to entice these native trout to take what you present to them.  We've also learned a bit about presentation and what types of flies to present at various times of the year.  I hope that we are able to schedule a trip with them in the fall, but for now, we'll just try to apply the lessons we've learned in their videos.

Another thing I wanted to share in this post is a wonderful Car Camping Packing Checklist that I stumbled on this week. This has definitely helped me gather our gear as we get ready to use the trailer that I don't get to use often enough. Most of my camping the last few years has been quick tent setups or backpacking trips and these gear lists are very different.  I thought others might find this list helpful and it's printable so you can literally use it as a checklist as you pack.  Just click HERE to see the entire list in its printable form:

 I'd love to hear about your adventures camping and fishing in the Smokies.  What are your favorite streams and/or places to camp?

Another Lucky Day in the Great Outdoors

A clear, cold day was the perfect backdrop for a 3 1/2 hour stint standing shin to hip deep in the South Holston River accompanied by my brother and my 82-year old Dad. I couldn't have asked for a better day even if we didn't catch fish, but we were more lucky than that. I have no pictures from today's fishing trip, but I will share a pic of Dad on a trip earlier this year.

This is the man that had me in the waters of the North Carolina mountains when I was probably 5 or 6 years old. At that time we were spin fishing with a 3-barbed lure that was gold with red spinners (well, at least one of them was red--that part of the memory is a little fuzzy.) I can see it vividly in my mind's eye all these years later. It was this early exposure to the joys of outdoor activities that has impacted my life in such an important way.

We almost always caught fish then, and we almost always catch fish now, but our weapon of choice has changed. Today we exclusively use a fly rod, and casting it is a constant battle to produce that perfect loop and lay it quietly on the water with the precise upstream mend. Always a work in progress, but everything I know about fly-fishing, I learned from him.

I caught 7 browns and bows today, but the choice of bug was another continual challenge. We had to work for these fish today except right at the beginning of the day when they first turned the generators off and the water receded. Fish hit quickly during those first few minutes. At the time, I had on a blue-wing olive dry with a blue-wing olive nymph tied on below it. After a few of those hitting only the nymph, and one really nice fish breaking my tippet, I had lost the only two Dad had tied for me. After seeing a large sulphur on the water, I switched to a light colored sulphur with a zebra midge as my dropper. The midge caught the eye of a couple of fish too, but I never caught a fish on any dry fly I tied on today--and it wasn't for lack of trying!

I am so thankful for every day I get to spend on the water, especially those spent with my dad. I fully realize how fortunate I am that he is not only still here, but able to fish. Every outing could be our last together, but I will always treasure the time I spend with him and the skills and pleasures in nature that he has shared with me.

 

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Time is a River and a Place to Heal

I am not often touched by a novel the way Time is a River by Mary Alice Monroe touched me. As a female fly-fisherman I understand the bond that exists between a fly-fisherman and the river. There is nothing more relaxing, more centering, than standing knee-deep in a river surveying the runs and ripples, trying to discern where the fish might be laying in wait for an insect snack. The challenge of placing a fly in just the right spot, with the imperceptibility of cast and line on the water is one that takes years to master, but provides instant gratification when accomplished even on accident and on occasion. The thrill when you see a fish rise to take the fly at the end of your tippet followed by that electrifying jiggle of life on the other end as the fish dances to pull the fly away from you is not only exhilarating, but unmatched in my experience. To imagine that this would have a healing effect in the spirit of those who have undergone tragedy is natural.

Time is a River shares the story of a woman, Mia, stricken not only with breast cancer, but with a husband who betrays her in her hour of greatest need. After attending a Casting for Recovery retreat for breast cancer survivors, Mia returns to her Charleston home, finally hopeful that her life can improve, only to find her husband cheating on her with a well-endowed woman in Mia's own bed. Horrified by this turn of events, Mia flees back to the mountains near Asheville, NC where the retreat was held, where she had felt hope and a renewed sense of life only hours before to escape her new, cruel reality.

The beauty of this book for me lay in the descriptions of the river, of reading the currents and entomology of the river, of becoming one with the river in order to heal. Another powerful aspect of the novel came into play when Mia discovers the fishing journal of a turn of the century fly-fisherwoman who recorded her experiences in the local rivers in a time when the sport was not only dominated by men, but female participation in the sport was scorned. These records gave a sense of who this pioneering woman had been and the life that she had led, enough of a sense that Mia begins to dig into this woman's past in an effort to clear her name--a name tied to an infamous deed that had never been proven but had plunged its holder into hermit-like solitude for the final years of her life. This is a great read!

                                   Click on this link to view Casting for Recovery video.

I have since learned that Casting for Recovery is a real charity organization that organizes these retreats and offers them at no charge to women of any age and at any stage who are recovering from breast cancer. I want to applaud them and their sponsors for the work that they do. Check out this video "Voice of Courage" to get an idea of their mission and its importance. I believe you will be as touched as I was.

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Fly-fishing in Boone Fork Creek for Monster Trout

So you thought the trout in East Tennessee and Western North Carolina were relatively small?  Well, think again!  There is at least one place in the waters of this region where that is absolutely not true--The Refuge near Blowing Rock, NC.  This strip of water that runs through private land is managed incredibly well for the benefit of Brown, Rainbow, Brook, and Golden Trout.  This, vicariously, benefits those of us who love to catch them on a fly rod.

I recently had the opportunity as a surprise birthday gift from my husband to fish this stretch of water.  The Refuge is located on Boone Fork Creek, one of the top-rated catch-and-release streams in the area.  Set amidst the beauty of the Blue Ridge Mountains, this Orvis-endorsed fishing experience awaits those who wish to catch large, really large trout!  Since 1988, The Refuge has provided trout with a sanctuary, a refuge, in which they are provided with the habitat that they need to grow to monster size, protected by the owners, Terry and Renee Troy, and by the guides and fishermen (and fisherwomen) that frequent these waters.  No fish are ever taken from these waters unless they have been injured, for instance by the spear-like beaks of a blue heron. Although, to be honest, I bet it's quite a sight to see a blue heron try to take on one of these monster fish!  I wonder if the fish ever win!  I thought it interesting that, according to Terry Troy, these fish have full run of Boone Fork Creek, but most of them, except for the Brookies which travel upstream during the summer, choose to stay.  The extra aeration provided in this stretch of water probably plays a large part of that, especially when temperatures rise in the warmest parts of the year. 

When we got out of the truck at a beautiful, but unassuming, home and guest cottage near the river, I was excited by the possibilities of what might lay ahead.  I had envisioned a trophy-section of a creek in which our guide, Luke Edwards (lukesedwards@gmail.com) had promised my husband he could get us on some trophy-sized trout as my birthday present.  At that time, I was unaware of where, exactly, we had been headed as part of the birthday surprise.  After donning our equipment and placing my net in the back pocket of my fishing vest, Luke looked at me and said, "You know, I've got my guide net.  You won't need that net today if you don't want to fool with it."  He was too polite to say it at the time, but that trout net I carry would have been absolutely useless on this adventure, because none of the fish we caught would have fit in it!

This photo was borrowed from the website of The Refuge:  http://www.therefugefoscoenc.com/Welcome_.html

As we made our way toward the river, onto the deck area of the house and cottage, the creek itself was still out of sight, nestled in and behind shrubbery of rhododendron and other similar mountain underbrush which grows beneath the canopy of hardwoods and pines.  We met Terry Troy, an extremely hospitable and likable fellow, and talked with him a few minutes before making our way down the short path toward Boone Fork Creek.  I remember as I made that last little turn when the creek came into view, being absolutely stopped in my tracks by what I saw.  Below me in a stretch of creek maybe 30 feet wide were scores of dark silhouettes of fish in the water--really large fish!  Also found amongst those dark silhouettes were ghost-like outlines of a fish I've never seen before--the Golden Trout, which is native to the high country of the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range in California.  We saw probably 12-15 of those beauties on this day, although we never did get one to take our flies.  But we did get plenty of other trout; Rainbow, Brown, and Brook; to latch on and give us an amazing experience. 

Still a few brook trout left in this stretch

The weather cooperated beautifully for our time on the river.  The skies were overcast for most of the morning and about half way through our time there a light drizzle began to fall.  I seriously think this drizzle was the biggest blessing of the morning.  After the rain began, fish began hitting almost faster than we could comfortably bring them in.  There were many times when my husband and I both had fish on and Luke was trying to net fish in two different locations!  What an experience!  I fished flies I'd never used before on this trip.  Many of the tiny flies I usually fish on the South Holston or in the mountain streams in the Smoky Mountains would probably not have been noticed by these huge trout.  I love to fish using dry flies, so Luke kept me primarily with dry flies on my line.  The first fish I caught hit at a mayfly pattern that I had used before, but most of the flies we used on this day were unfamiliar.  One fly that was especially effective was a brown crane fly in probably a size 6 or so.  I caught and landed a couple fish on that fly before the biggest fish I've ever had on any line took the fly.  He was a huge brown, smart and apparently accustomed to getting off the line in this stretch of water.  I hooked this large brown and he immediately took line, running upstream, as brown trout are known to do.  I fought him for a long while and then he took out upstream one last time.  This time, he wrapped under a rock and a rope attached to the aeration system and continued to fight to escape.  At this point in time, Luke took out upstream after him, knowing that he was going to use that rock and rope to get off the line.  As soon as Luke got near him, that fish literally swam around our guide's feet three times, wrapping that line around him like an old pro.  Obviously, that was the end of that!  He broke the line (3X tippet) and took that crane fly with him.  Wow! What a cool thing to see!  Another exciting fly that we used was a wet fly called the New Trick, purchased at Foscoe Fishing Company.  This bright green wet fly caused quite a stir.  We tied this on late, but boy, I wish we'd have tried it earlier.  This New Trick was the only thing the Golden Trout looked at all day.  I don't know if it made them mad or what, but I'm sure, given another thirty minutes to an hour, one of us would have landed a Golden.  But we were at the end of our time on the river and had to leave the Goldens for another day.  

A huge brown trout caught on a copper-colored stonefly pattern

All this fishing excitement was complimented by a nice stay at Chetola Resort in Blowing Rock, NC.  This lovely 87-acre property overlooks the small private lake on which swans and wood ducks make their home and raise their young.  This lake is full of brim and other fish, but those were not our interest for this trip.  The grounds of Chetola Resort are nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains and are exquisitely maintained, offering a lovely spot for romantic walks around the lake.  Unfortunately, the Bob Timberlake Restaurant had experienced a fire last year and the renovations to this historically preserved structure were not yet complete, so we ventured into Blowing Rock for dinner and drinks, which was not necessarily a bad thing!  Our choice for the evening was The Best Cellar, set amid lush gardens, carefully tended to enhance your dining experience.  The food and the service were outstanding, and we enjoyed halibut that night, dusted with pistachios and accompanied by a blueberry sauce--excellent in all respects!  Blowing Rock is a nice quaint little town, and we walked the streets visiting a few shops along the way, making this a nice addition to an already awesome surprise birthday weekend. 

One thing to note though, you can also stay at the guest cottage at The Refuge.  It's a quiet little cabin right there at the creek, so unless you really want the resort experience, my suggestion would be to rent that beautiful little cabin at The Refuge.  That's what we will do when we return to fish these waters again!

Fly-fishing on the South Holston

Today was an awesome day fishing with my 81-year old dad on the South Holston River just out of Elizabethton, TN. We started out about noon (81-year old dads don't get up too early any more, or at least mine doesn't). We began our day fishing on the "grates" just down from the dam. My dad is a firm believer in fishing the tiniest of tiny midges off those grates, so that's what I started off with. I caught four fish on that, nice rainbow about 12 inches long. About that time, pretty much everyone stopped catching fish. I noticed that they were still hitting on the top of the water though. I decided that even if Dad got mad at me, I was going to switch to a dry fly which is my absolute favorite kind of fishing. So, I tied on a beautiful black ant with an orange parachute and began fishing top water. Within just a few minutes, I began catching fish again! No other fly fishermen were catching fish now. The only folks catching fish now were fishing minnows. I continued to catch beautiful rainbows and browns, in the range of 12-16 inches. I caught a total of 7 fish in that spot until some other fishermen moved in right on top of me. Someone else there today said, "you can teach anyone to fly fish, but you can't teach manners." At one point one kid, maybe 15-years old, was casting so close to me, I thought he was going to hit me with his lure. I tried to tell him nicely he was too close. He left, then returned a few minutes later with his two older brothers. They showed a tremendous amount of class by surrounding me and taking over the entire area I had had such success in. Ah well, I had a great time while it lasted. I eventually let them have my spot, but I sure hope they didn't catch much. Hope they enjoyed bullying a woman fisherman.  Dad never noticed, thankfully. Even at 81, I'm sure he would have done battle with those hoodlums if he'd have seen it. Sure wasn't worth that!

Appalachian Trail--all about ounces, steps, and overcoming challenges!

Our first steps on the Appalachian Trail at Summit Cut in Virginia

Well, we actually DID it!  On Friday morning, June 24, 2011, we set out on a three day adventure hiking and fishing along the Appalachian Trail, Section 45 in Virginia.  We got plenty of "stuff" stuffed into those backpacks, probably too much "stuff".  By the time we added our water in Damascus, they probably tipped the scale at about 30 lbs. each.  I must say, I was worried about being able to carry that much weight on my back for a considerable distance.

We began our hike at Summit Cut, approximately 17 miles north of Damascus, VA where we had left our truck parked at Sun Dog Outfitters.  We rode the shuttle which carries folks and their bikes up to begin riding the Virginia Creeper.  The driver let us off at Summit Cut where Hwy. 58 crosses the AT.  We were fortunate enough that another hiker was standing there when we got there, and he took this picture for us.  He was only dayhiking, so he took out ahead of us and we never saw him again.  We began this trek a little timidly, taking our time to adjust to the weight and the challenge of balancing those 30 lb. packs on our backs as we traversed the rocky, somewhat muddy path that would lead us, hopefully to Saunder's Shelter by nightfall.  We had plenty of time.

Our first waypoint of interest was Lost Mountain Shelter which was approximately 1.1 miles into the hike.  I was pretty excited about how quickly we got there and how good I was feeling even considering the burden on my back.  I was also encouraged at the condition of the facilities at the shelter.  There was a picnic table and a beautiful area where tents could be pitched.  The privy was clean and well-maintained, so I figured Saunder's Shelter would be very much the same.  We stopped there briefly, but didn't disturb the thru-hikers staying in the shelter and ventured on our way.

The rhododendron were blooming along the trail, especially in these lower elevations, making our path encouragingly beautiful as we continued.  Other than the rhododendron, we saw very few wildflowers on this first day, but there were many different types of fungi proliferating in the dampness along the trail.  We did see Indian pipe and an interesting plant/fungus that looked like ears of corn growing up out of the ground in bunches.  Not sure what that was.  There was also some deep orange "fingerlike" projections growing up from the ground too.  Not sure what that was either. :)  Oh well, neither are in my fungus book which I didn't take with me because of the weight.  Maybe I'll get them identified eventually.  Anyway, on Day 1, the fungi were the stars of the show.  Many shapes and colors were prevalent all along the trail.

The White Blaze!

By about 11:30, we made our way to the first point in the trail where the AT comes in contact with the Virginia Creeper and Whitetop Laurel Creek.  There is an awesome campsite here complete with a fire pit and nice logs laid out to sit on.  The creek provides ample water, however, we did not pump any here.  We still had plenty to have to carry up to Saunder's Shelter.  This campsite is below the trestle which is the Creeper Trail crossing high above, so you are somewhat sheltered from the busyness above.

It was still quite early in the day, so we decided to fish!  I put on one of the flies Dad tied for me, learning to actually tie that knot for the first time with fishing line, switched into my Keen sandals which would serve as waders on this trip, and put my line in the water.  I got a strike on that first cast, and before Bunk could even get his line in the water, I had landed my first fish--a rainbow trout, on just the second cast!  He was small, only about 5-6 inches, and he went back in the water, but what a rush!  We continued to fish up and down this short section near where we had left our packs and caught a couple more small fish--enough to keep it fun!  I LOVE dry fly-fishing!  I love to watch the fish come up and snatch that fly off the top of the water!  However, about 1:30 we decided to pack it up and continue our hike.  Before we left that spot, though, we had our first meal on the trail.  I made tuna salad sandwiches on wraps and they were good!  Bunk says he's not overly crazy about the wraps, but I think they make a great alternative to bread on the trail.  We had some nuts to go along with our "sandwiches" and then decided not to filter any water before we left--probably a blessing as it turned out.  We shouldered our packs and headed out on the final leg of our journey for this day.  I thought we only had about 3.5 miles left to go, but I didn't realize the challenges those 3.5 miles would present for us.