The plan was to mentor on the Delayed Harvest section of the Chattooga River. I had my heart set on it, but since time was too limited to actually go and check the water level due to earlier rains, the plan got changed. Twice. The next option, Tuckasegee, also got changed. Seems that the keepers of the dam decided they needed to discharge water (possibly due to more than expected rain?) and the water level was not safe for wading. Rats.
That’s how we ended up on the North Mills River. I’d heard about it, but this was a first for me. And Wes. And his neighbor Paul and his son Jordan. It turned out to be quite nice, in spite of the lengthy walk. True, the walk was down a gravel road, but it was pretty much downhill, meaning that coming back out was gonna be uphill. The four of us dropped out of the group to hit the river and fish downstream while Watts and company went on up. 
As it turned out, it seems that we got the better deal. Apparently the upper stretch had more folks than the section we were in. I started feeling a mood change when I latched into a rainbow in the first hour, and even better when a second ‘bow followed it. Things slowed a little, so I changed direction slightly (like 180) and moseyed upstream to try any likely-looking water I happened to find. Had to pass on one nice hole due to the occupancy, but managed to find a spot. The reward was in the form of another rainbow, and a bonus brown trout erased any lasting negativity. I decided that this day was turning out alright.
Stayed longer than I intended, and because I had the car keys and lunch was in the car, I headed back to get with the guys. Finding Paul and Jordan, I was informed that Paul had tied into a nice 16-incher. Also, that Wes had gone looking for me. After a while, we were all back together and made the trek back up to the parking lot. We decided that going back in was not going to be as long a walk. And to help with that, it was also decided to fish downstream so that the trip out would be shorter. Well, it was, but it was also a heckuva lot steeper, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
Wes went downstream a little farther while I stayed with Paul and Jordan. Lo and behold, Paul connected again and again with another rainbow, followed by a very pretty brookie. I was getting a little envious; I have a bit of a soft spot in my heart for brookies. As if to assuage my feelings, a spunky rainbow decided to try to patch things up for me, bringing my number up to five. I could live with that, yep.
I caught up with Wes down below to find out that he also made acquaintance with a couple of rainbows.
I tried my luck there while he went downstream once more, and Paul and Jordan passed me, following Wes. I stayed and worked that spot longer than I should, but no cigar this time. Plus, I left a fly in a tree branch. Drat. It started looking late, mainly because it was, so I scooted down until I caught up with them. It wasn’t but a couple of minutes later that Paul and I heard Wes whooping it up, so we scurried around a short bend to see him bent over, holding something in the water and hollering for the camera. Ok, I laid down my Sage and got close to snap some shots of Wes holding a nice brookie. Good work there.
After that, we steeled ourselves to head straight up the hill and pick up the road back to the vehicle. What the return trip lacked in distance this time, it more than made up for it in steepness. And it seemed that the closer we got to the road, the steeper the hill became. We rested more, I know that. But that, too, was alright. I was thankful for the exercise and, oh yeah, the trout didn’t hurt matters either. At least we now have another place to visit… .
