The Trout Zone: Brook Trout

Showing posts with label Brook Trout. Show all posts

Thursday, December 11, 2025

Into the Wild Beyond: Day Three

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.

Getting started on the first pool of the day

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.

Backcountry brook trout in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park

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.

Monday, November 17, 2025

Into the Wild Beyond: Day Two

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

Pale jewelweed near a trout stream in the Great Smoky Mountains

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.

Native Great Smoky Mountain National Park brook trout

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.

Great Smoky Mountains National Park white snakeroot

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.

Great Smoky Mountains National Park Stinging nettle

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.

Tuesday, October 28, 2025

Into The Wild Beyond: Day One

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.

Late season pollinator enjoying the blue lobelia

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...

Sunday, September 01, 2024

The Wyoming Saga: Fly Fishing the Green River For Days

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.

Blue-winged olive on the Green River in Wyoming

Green River Wyoming fly fishing Rainbow Trout

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.

Green River Wyoming fly fishing brown trout

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.

Chunky Green River rainbow trout fly fishing in Wyoming

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.

Green River Wyoming Fly Fishing brook trout

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.

A faster section of the Green River in Wyoming

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.

Evening spinner fall eating rainbow trout on the Green River

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.

John's nice fly fishing Wyoming Green River brown trout

Fly Fishing Green River Wyoming big brown trout

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.

Brilliant light on the Green River in Wyoming

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...