This is the premiere event (well. almost) for the Mountain Bridge Trout Unlimited chapter, and I always look forward to getting with folks either new to fly fishing for trout, or just a little inexperienced with fishing and reading a river. And my favorite place to do this is, of course, on the Chattooga River. To be more specific, the delayed harvest section above the Highway 23 bridge.
Wes and I were putting on the finishing touches about the time that Jimmy Davis and Mike Harvell pulled up, so we said our howdies and headed on up the river. We passed a few fishermen on the way up, but a lot of the folks we saw were simply camping/backpacking on the river, so it didn’t feel very crowded. That was OK with me; I’ll never complain about that.
Not much success, just a couple here and there, so it seemed that either they hadn’t stocked or the fish just hadn’t spread out yet. We were informed by a member of a camping party that they had indeed stocked the preceding Thursday, so it had to be the latter.
As it turned out, after coming back down just prior to calling it a day, we got into a pool and I had one of “those” days. Didn’t want to seem greedy, but I ended up with having made the acquaintance of 17 slippery trout: 12 ‘bows, 3 brookies, and 2 browns. Of course, 2 of them could be considered “short distance releases”, but I wouldn’t get really picky about that. I figure that if I could have gotten them in the net, then they count.
Didn’t take many pictures, though, so if you want to see trout pictures, I encourage you to look around at some of the older posts. I’ll dig around and see what I can come up with in the meantime, just so I can make use of the new plugin I just installed on this flog. Later….
In an article in the Greenville News, it was pointed out that this issue is definitely sensitive and deserves all the careful consideration that all parties concerned are expecting. From the viewpoint of this author, the area in question definitely needs quite a bit of improvement, particularly with regard to the impact of past usage practices. Restricting the parking to greater than a quarter-mile and eliminating “user-created” campsites are not going to be popular in some circles, but these steps can only serve to improve the situation in the long run.
The major issue that I find fault with is the permission of boating in this section of river. Using a criteria of 450 cfm as the “optimum” flow level beyond which fly fishing for trout becomes impractical, seems completely arbitrary and impractical. Many of us have no choice after having travelled considerable distance, and we can only adapt our tactics as necessary to accommodate what conditions we find. In my experience of forty-some years on the river, I can see no reason whatsoever to implement such a controversial policy. The area was created and set aside as a “pristine” section where those seeking solitude could go and find that peace, and not be forced to endure the encroachment of thrill-seekers who seem to continuously run out of new places to pursue their sport, without regard to the needs of others.
November again and we return to the East Fork of the French Broad River close to Rosman, North Carolina for a scheduled fly fishing session with the MBTU chapter this past Saturday. The Delayed Harvest started in October on the East Fork, so it seemed like a good time to visit. It was kind of a toss-up whether or not actually to go because of Friday’s rain. Wes and I decided to hook up and do it anyway, which turned out to be a good thing. The water was decently up and clear; the trout were in the feeding lane and in the feeding mood. Not going crazy, but choosing their battles.
East Fork brookie
I thought it might be another “everybody else caught some, except for Mark” day, but I managed to fool a small hatchery-released brown first, and a little later a decent brookie tried to eat the same streamer pattern. Right after that, another actually tore the streamer right off the end of the leader with a more than solid hit. It almost felt vicious if it hadn’t also felt good. Left me with one more, which didn’t seem to possess the same allure as the first. Note: get back on the tying vise… replenish, replenish, replenish.
We took a break before going back to fishing, but the rest of the afternoon didn’t produce any more cooperation. The weather started doing switchbacks also, and then began turning colder and uncomfortable. We packed it in, considering it a pretty good day all in all.
Sunday. Rhee and I went back, mostly for a ride through the mountains’ fall color, but I wanted to check the last pool from Saturday. Had to wait out a couple of guys, so I fished above them with no luck. Hooked up with a tree trout, normally a cause for unkind thoughts. Retrieving my fly, I also recovered another fly. Dropping down to the pool below, I had no luck with my offering so, just for giggles I tied on the fly from the tree. Seemed to be the ticket, or at least 5 brownies and 1 brookie thought so. They were all small with the brook trout being larger, but they hit authoritatively. Then they wised up and developed lockjaw. Strangely enough, as I waded back trying yet another last cast after last cast, I ended up with another “tree trout” hook-up, which resulted in picking 3 more flies from the same branch. I didn’t try any of these, figuring to save them for later not because I didn’t want to tempt fate, but because I was getting cold again.
Decided to wrap it up and spend the rest of the time with my patient wife. This one may require further research… .
It’s hard to come out and post an entry that states: no success today. And I’ve been guilty of skipping a post here and there for that reason. But sometimes, well, you just gotta, if for no other reason than to let somebody know that you haven’t gone off the radar. Generally, I am prone to talking about fly fishing for trout in South Carolina, but today we went fly fishing for trout in North Carolina (we: Rhee, Angus - new family member, and I). So instead of the Chattooga River, I felt like visiting the Davidson River.
In spite of Rhee’s best efforts to get us into an early start, I manage to “take care of this ‘n that” and we don’t get going until around ten or so. Which means that we won’t be close to trout-fishable water for at least a couple of hours. As it turned out, the weather was just short of gorgeous: a nice breeze, cool temperature for the middle of August - this from a report that the early morning registered 57 degrees. I know, but these things can happen in the mountains.
At any rate, the fish were active. Oh boy, were they active! Well, let me first mention that we parked in the Fish Hatchery parking lot. I walked straight from the car to the river after rigging up, a walk of maybe 200 feet. And there were people everywhere (well, the place IS popular). So this sets the stage to let you know that these fish are not bashful or spooky. You can stand among them in the middle of the river and it’s like you don’t exist. Cast all you want. Change flies all you want. It doesn’t bother them in the least. And they don’t bother you, either.
These fish ranged all the way from fingerling size to leg-length. They were going after food all around, tailing, humping, even clearing the water completely. Yes, the big ones too. Sounded like kids doing cannonballs into the water, some of them did. I guess that’s why I couldn’t tear myself away from them after 3 hours of throwing dry flies, wet flies, nymphs, streamers, and what have you. Managed to get two strikes, and missed both. But finally I had to concede defeat. These trout are too educated, and I feel equally uneducated.
I left the pool to the jerk who moved into position less than 30 feet from me at least an hour before I decided to rejoin my patient wife. And this hits a really pet peeve of mine. What the &*#%$@** has happened to fly fishing etiquette? Does no one have any consideration at all for someone patiently trying to find the solution to catch a difficult trout? Were these people raised without any manners at all? I was in that position without moving so much as a foot in either direction, and people showed up both upstream and downstream as if they were simply walking into a restaurant or something. I had to modify my casting to keep from hooking the fool. Next time, I’ll see how close I can come without hooking an ear. I know it can only benefit my casting technique, which does need improvement.
Sorry for the rant, couldn’t help myself.
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