The Trout Zone: Fly Fishing

Showing posts with label Fly Fishing. 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.

Tuesday, November 25, 2025

New Old Rods

Human nature causes us to look on the past with nostalgia. That can be dangerous, of course. One of my history professors in college liked to remind us that "there was no such thing as the good old days because the life expectancy back then was in the 30 year range." That's fair enough, but was there a golden age for fly rods? Ask ten different fly anglers and you'll get ten different answers on that. A newbie fly angler who just upgraded to the most expensive rod from the likes of Scott, Orvis, G Loomis, Winston, or any of the other popular rod manufacturers will tell you that this indeed is the best fly rod ever made. Manufacturers regularly bill their newest as the best ever. That's at least partially forgivable since they are in the business of selling products that require at least some level of marketing. That said, if the rods are really all that, won't they sell themselves? That's a question for a different day. What I'm really interested in is my personal all time favorite rod series.

My Favorite Rods

While some of the newest and best rods are truly incredible, my favorites, other than whatever rod is in my hand catching fish at any given time, are the original graphite Superfine rods from Orvis. They are hands down some of the most fun to fish. Thankfully they don't have the terrible "label" on the rod blank just above the handle of the newer Orvis rods (which also go a long ways towards keeping me from buying any current Orvis rod). I would probably buy several of the new ones if it wasn't for that goofy label as they are otherwise incredible rods. The blanks are unsanded (one of my favorite features), and they have the small Superfine grips that don't fatigue my hand while casting. Oh, and they flex. They are incredible soft, loading deeply into the blank for some of the most fun you can have fishing small streams. They are also in fairly high demand, meaning you can expect to pay at minimum close to original retail for one and often even more.

My first "nice" fly rod was a Superfine "Tight Loop" (an 8' 4 weight rod), and I have since found a couple more of these original Superfine graphite rods in other models. Most recently, I was on the prowl for a "One Ounce." This rod is a 6' 6" 2 weight that weighs one ounce. It sounded too good to be true. On paper, it was the perfect brook trout rod and also great for delicate dry fly presentations to any small or medium sized trout.

Finding My Next Superfine

After watching for one on again and off again for several years, I finally got a heads up from my buddy Trevor who buys and sells rods regularly. He is great at tracking down hard to find rods and he had found one at a reasonable price point. I could have had one before this point, but wasn't willing to spend way more than original retail to get it. The rod looked good in pictures and when it was delivered, I took it out and examined it. Everything was in good shape, I just needed a good excuse to fish it.

Fast forward a few months and it was time for my annual fall camping trip. This year, it was the camping trip that almost didn't happen. Then, one day, I had a conversation with my buddy John that got me excited to go and thankfully I still had some days free. We made a plan and before I knew it, the time had arrived.

Fishing My New Old Superfine Rod

Almost as an afterthought, I threw the One Ounce in my truck when I was packing for the camping trip. I figured maybe there would be some dry fly opportunities. When the day of departure arrived, we nearly skipped going. The forecast was for the first major cold front of the season to bring snow and very cold temperatures to the Smokies and broader southeastern US. Still, it looked like we might get some decent fishing on our first afternoon and perhaps the next day as well.

I got a slightly later start than intended, but eventually was on the road and headed for the mountains. Of course, a stop at Little River Outfitters in Townsend was needed. I usually think of something I need, but at minimum I like to stop and say hi to the guys at the shop. On this trip, I was after a new line for a reel I had sitting around that would work on my new Superfine. After that stop, we headed over the top of Newfound Gap and down the other side to Smokemont Campground. I've been doing a fall camping trip there for years and always enjoy the crisp cool mornings and good late autumn fishing. Dry fly opportunities are often excellent around this time of year, with low flows common. Anglers should be very cautious of brook and brown trout spawning and avoid walking through redds and spawning areas.

When we arrived at the campground, the sun was shining and while the wind was starting to pick up with the front coming in, we knew that this would be the warmest water of our whole trip. In other words, we needed to get out there and fish hard. Since I wanted to make sure and fish the new-to-me old rod, I put it carefully together and pulled out a small Parachute Adams. Surely there would be at least one or two fish rising.

We walked over to the stream and started working up a nice low gradient section. Not too long into our session, I spied a smallish trout holding in a nice slick that was rising fairly steadily. Exactly the kind of fish I was looking for. It took a couple of casts to get the fly in the right spot due to the strong wind, but the fish ate as soon as I got a good drift. I whiffed. Seriously. Not once, but twice.

Still, the fish was rising. I figured out it was more likely to eat if I cast farther above it instead of close, so I started casting 4 or 5 feet above the fish to set up a good drift. On my second or third cast up there, a fish I never saw came up and inhaled the fly. Thankfully, even though I was focused on my initial target, I was paying enough attention to set the hook and a lively fight ensued. Turns out I caught the larger of the two fish in that run which suited me just fine. My first trout on the "One Ounce" was a very respectable brown trout and on a dry fly no less.

The rest of the day was anticlimactic. I did catch another fish or two, still all on dry flies. One rainbow in particular was fun. I missed it on my first drift through a strong back eddy below a boulder. The fish was facing directly towards me when it ate, and I simply pulled the fly completely out of its mouth.

Thankfully, it didn't feel the hook, and on the next drift it ate again. I waited a little longer to set the hook to let the fish turn, and immediately felt the 2 weight rod bend deeply as the lively rainbow ran hard into the current. After a fun fight, an average Smoky Mountain rainbow trout came to hand.

The next day saw some incredible dry fly fishing on Deep Creek, but the weather was much colder. In fact, things were getting nasty enough and cold enough that we decided the smart idea probably involved heading home earlier than intended. Low temperatures our second night were forecast to be in the low to mid teens. Sleeping would have been fine, but getting up the next morning and crawling out of a warm sleeping bag would have been miserable.

I made it home in time to enjoy our first snowfall of the season on the Cumberland Plateau and appreciated my nice warm bed more than usual. The first expedition with my new old rod was a success. Now I just need to find a good time to go brook trout fishing with it...

Find more information on a Smokies fly fishing guide HERE.

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...

Tuesday, September 30, 2025

Remote Floats

Fishing new water is always exciting. Whether wading or floating, seeing a piece of water for the first time is a treat that shouldn't be taken lightly. After all, given enough time, an angler can exhaust most of their local options for seeing new water. It takes a while, but eventually you realize that you've seen most of the places there are to fish in your neck of the woods.

For me, there are some rivers that I've seen almost every fishable inch, and others that I can honestly say I've fished, but definitely wouldn't say I've got them dialed in yet. That only comes with repetition, more for some people than others, but still requires a decent number of fishing trips. I'm fortunate that I'm blessed with a memory for water. Take me to a stream one time, and I've got a pretty good idea about fishing it in the future.

On new to me water, the lack of any pre knowledge makes for an exciting day. The constant discovery process is invigorating. Recently, I got to do just that on two separate occasions. The more recent was a backpacking trip in the Smokies that I'll get to in another post. The other occasion was what seems ages ago, but was really not even a month and a half ago. My good friend and fellow fly fishing guide and smallmouth guru Chris Bean was up for an adventure and had the perfect boat for scouting remote smallmouth water. I had some insight on a put-in and take-out option, and a plan was hatched.

We met at the take-out, then drove up to the sketchy boat launch well upriver. The more I hang out with these smallmouth guys, the more I realize that the term "boat launch" is a pretty loose concept. Regardless, we got the raft in the water, and started working our way down the river.

Early mornings on a smallmouth stream in Tennessee

Things were slower than either of us liked, but we were catching some fish. For this trip, catching fish was really just the icing on the cake. More than anything, it was about a remote float on a new to each of us piece of water. We did both have opportunities and also both caught some nice fish. We both lost fish that would likely have been a new personal best, but things slowed down by mid morning. It all made sense when Chris took a water temp and we discovered it was in the mid 80s. Those summer heat waves are hard on anglers and fish and this day was no exception.

A fine Tennessee smallmouth bass for guide David Knapp

We should have seen it coming. The heat had been building all day. In fact, when we finally had to jump out of the boat after bumping through countless riffles without getting hung up, it was almost a relief. The water, although hot, was better than the air temperature at that point. Of course, heat leads to instability, and instability leads to thundershowers.

By the time we were clearing the last significant riffle and jumped back in the boat, the sky was turning darker. I don't mind fishing in the rain. I do it more than I really like thanks to my job as a fly fishing guide. Oddly enough I've morphed into a fair weather angler, all the more strange because I still love a good rainy day, but the one place I always draw the line is with lightning.

I was keeping a close eye on the storm via a radar app on my phone. It was clearly bearing down on us and doubtful if we were going to stay dry. It hadn't been thundering too much until it got close. Then things got interesting in a hurry. When lightning started hitting the ridge just above us, it was time to pull over. I jumped out on a huge flat rock ledge and we told stories for a while. A glance up river suggested the heaviest rain hadn't even started yet.

Eventually, the storm eased on past and the lightning moved on to our south. The thunder got softer and softer until we felt quite safe getting back out on the water. Hopeful that the cooldown would send the fish into a feeding frenzy, we started fishing hard the last bit of our day.

Chris rolled a big bass or two on a streamer, but I was starting to wind down. I've noticed that I don't fish as hard as I used to most of the time. Knowing when to quit is almost as important as going in the first place. Happy to row while Chris fished, I guided the boat slowly downstream as the rain receded into the distance. The late day feeding frenzy didn't seem likely and we both were needing to get home at a reasonable hour.

The rest of our trip was anticlimactic, running the shuttle, pulling the boat out, essential tasks like that. We were both already plotting a return, however. New water won't become old hat without at least a few visits. Both of us left wanting to return and dial things in a little better. We agreed that a little more flow would be nice, however.