The Trout Zone: Brook Trout

Showing posts with label Brook Trout. Show all posts

Sunday, October 18, 2026

Wyoming Return: Warmup Hike

After months of planning, a long drive across the country, and a major shift in plans before we ever set up our tents or started fishing, it was nice to wake up in my tent the first morning in Wyoming's Wind River Range. Anxious to get started, I was out of my tent shortly after first light and in plenty of time to enjoy a great sunrise. This would be a theme for the early part of our trip.

Dramatic sunrise in the Wind River mountains

Our plans that day were to revisit a lake that John and I had enjoyed on our first trip in 2023. The total distance was very manageable and would be a great warmup hike without our heavier overnight backpacks. The intent was to get around 8 miles or so in to help us acclimate before putting on the heavy packs. Best of all, the target lake would enable us to get a species or two that might be difficult to find elsewhere on our planned itinerary.

We hit the trail after a slow ride over lots of washboard with a healthy dose of potholes. The trailhead was exactly the same as I remembered it, and soon we left the dusty road behind as we walked through the pine forest. Hiking fast, we were soon entering the Popo Agie Wilderness and climbing steadily to our target lake. This lake is a bit below treeline, but close enough that the views open up in a dramatic way.

Walking along, I noticed that some of the wildflowers that had been growing in profusion in 2023 were much less prevalent. It appeared that even though our timing was similar, lots of plants were further along than they had been on our last trip. Still, there were enough interesting blooms to keep me looking.

Asters in the Wind River mountains were blooming in profusion

As the trail approached the lake, it skirted a lovely meadow where the stream carried enough water to suggest trout might be hiding in the undercuts. Sure enough, I pitched my Parachute Adams in and quickly found the first trout of the trip, a brook trout. These generally small fish overpopulate in the Rockies unfortunately where they are looked down upon as interlopers. My Smoky Mountain natives are invasives out west and generally treated as such by fisheries biologists. I'm still glad to catch them and they have saved a day of fishing for me on more than one occasion.

Leaving the small meadow behind, we were soon soaking in views of the lake. The odd rise was visible as well, so we knew there were fish active. On my last trip I had only fished the lake with a tenkara rod when we were passing by with full backpacks on our way to our campsite. This time, we had carried full fly rods and even had some sinking lines packed away just in case. Thankfully, we wouldn't need those.

the views did not disappoint in the Wind River range

It took slightly longer to start finding fish than the previous trip, but we were still into fish within minutes. There was some chop on the surface that made spotting fish a little more challenging, but if you could get a good angle to see into the water, you would also see fish.

This particular lake is fun because of the variety it offers. We caught plenty of brook trout but also found cutthroat and tiger trout. Some of them ate nymphs and some ate dry flies.

I didn't really intend to walk around the whole lake, but before I knew it, I was at the inlet with a decision to make: push on across the inlet stream and finish circuiting the lake or retrace my steps and call it a day. Being my first day at altitude, the second option was probably the smarter of the two, but not knowing if or when I would be back pushed me onward.

My buddy John was game to keep going, so we were soon climbing over boulders on the north bank. I stopped for a feast on wild blueberries, the first of many on this trip.

It was over on that far bank that John got an epic dry fly eat from a nice cutthroat. We had been leapfrogging each other and he was slightly ahead of me. I saw the whole thing out of the corner of my eye. Being a dry fly fanatic, John was in his element when the nice cutthroat rolled and sipped in the most cutthroat of ways possible. I could tell it was a nicer fish and quickly reeled my rod up and raced over to be ready to help as needed. Turns out John had things under control, so I just took a few pictures to document a neat moment.

By this point, I was wondering where Elam was. He had been catching fish so steadily that he hadn't moved very far from where we started. Since he hadn't been to this lake before, he wasn't in as big a hurry to see the next cove as I was. This was more a chance to see the whole lake for me. The distance added bumped our daily total up near the 10 mile range. What was intended as a short warmup hike was quickly turning into a real hike. Still, we were all feeling good.

The day was getting late, however, and we wanted to be out before dark. The next day would truly be a big day. We intended to hike at least 12 or 13 miles with some significant elevation gain, loss, and more gain. Oh, and all this while hauling 40 pound backpacks laden with our gear and food for the next few days. Yes, we needed a good night's rest.

We somewhat begrudgingly turned our steps back towards the truck. It had been a good day and I don't think it would have hurt our feelings to spend the night at this lovely lake. Little did we know that the daily adventure had some big surprises ahead back in camp that almost upended our entire trip...

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...