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. 

"A perfect dry fly slick." ©2025 David Knapp Photography

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. 

"Dry fly first fish on my new old rod." ©2025 David Knapp Photography

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.

"Back eddy." ©2025 David Knapp Photography

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.

"Dry fly eating rainbow trout." ©2025 David Knapp Photography

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. 

"Driving through the snow." ©2025 David Knapp Photography

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...

"One last look." ©2025 David Knapp Photography

Find more information on a Smokies fly fishing guide HERE. 

Fleeting Fall Colors

Every year, I look forward with anticipation to the fall colors. Every year, the colors do not last long enough. That is probably part of the allure. Such fleeting enjoyment adds to the mystique and leaves me grasping at the slightest hints of autumn. In some years, I find the first beautifully colored leaf in June, sometimes in July, very rarely as late as August. Of course, those aren't true fall colors, but leaves that happened to dry up and die prematurely for this reason or that. Still, they help build the anticipation and excitement for the main event to come. 

A yellow tulip poplar leaf spotted while guiding in the Great Smoky Mountains in June. ©2025 David Knapp Photography

This year, we headed up to a favorite hike where we hit the colors just right once upon a time. Ever since, we've tried to replicate that one magical day and apparently, it is harder to do than it seemed the first time. It was a great hike, don't get me wrong, but the colors were past peak on the brightest candidates (maples, etc) and barely even started on others (oaks, etc). 

Fall colors on the Cumberland Plateau. ©2025 David Knapp Photography

More fall colors at Pickett State Park. ©2025 David Knapp Photography

A few days ago, we hit a new to us trail that we've been meaning to hike for a while. It was short enough for the whole family and had the possibility of some nice colors. Turns out that we really enjoyed the hike and will be back, and the colors were good but not great. That seems to be the theme this year.

Hardie Trail at Dog Cove. ©2025 David Knapp Photography

Some of it comes down to lighting. If you see the colors in the right light, they can really pop. Often that means a rainy day. We drove through Fall Creek Falls recently, and found some really nice color. Maybe not the best I've ever seen in Tennessee, but very nice. 

One way loop road at Fall Creek Falls. ©2025 David Knapp Photography

More colors along the loop road. ©2025 David Knapp Photography

Of course, my job gives me a better opportunity than most to enjoy the colors. Just yesterday, I was taking in the colors on the Clinch while my client battled gorgeous wild rainbow trout. Being a Smokies fly fishing guide is one of my favorite things imaginable, largely because, well, I get to spend a lot of time in the Great Smoky Mountains. Every October, I book an inordinate number of trips up there. While my work as a fly fishing guide has really morphed into more of a float guide, I still do a decent number of wade trips. I go where the trips book and, while more or less booked as much as I want, still can't get too picky on where those trips book. I feel fortunate to spend the highest percentage of any month in the Smokies during color season. Some years are better than others, but every year provides its own magical moments.

Far upper Little River fall colors in the Smokies. ©2025 David Knapp Photography

Fall colors on the West Prong Little Pigeon near Gatlinburg. ©2025 David Knapp Photography

Now, as we morph into the winter months, I'm looking forward to a lot more hiking than I get accomplished in the warmer months and a little more personal fishing as well. Still, if I could stretch the fall season out a little longer, I'd do it in a heartbeat, especially if I could preserve those gorgeous fall colors a little longer. 

Fall colors on Black Mountain along the Cumberland Trail. ©2025 David Knapp Photography

Autumn Getaway

Don't ever become a guide so you can fish more. If you've never heard that saying before, now you have. As a guide, you are on the water every day, fishing in a sense. You just aren't actually holding the rod. In many ways, you actually become a better angler by not fishing all the time, because you spend all day describing how to do it right. On the other hand, it would assumedly be easy to lose the passion if you're doing something every day. That is one thing for which I count myself very fortunate. I still love both my job (guiding) and fishing on my days off. Still, I have to find some way to keep things interesting. If I've already floated the Caney Fork River 75 times for the calendar year, I probably won't float the exact same section doing the exact same thing on my off day. 

There are many solutions to keeping it interesting. Most of them revolve around pushing myself into new experiences as an angler. One is to experiment with flies and presentation, something I constantly do on my days off. On a recent guides' day off, I ripped streamers so hard all day that my stripping arm was my tired than my casting arm. Seriously. I saw some really big fish too and will be back to do it again. Another solution is to chase new species, explore new water, or fish rarely fished waters that still have that "shiny new toy" feel.

This past fall, in early October, a calendar anomaly opened up a short window to camp and fish in early October. Every year, I take a trip in early to mid November, so this was going to be a bonus trip. It is exceedingly rare that I get multiple days in a row off in October without scheduling it that way on purpose. As one of my busiest months, I tend to guide my way through my favorite time of year, with very little "me" time to go fishing for myself. And that's okay. My bank account appreciates it come the middle of January. Still, when back to back days opened up, I jumped at the opportunity. Wonder of wonders, one of my favorite campsites was available at Smokemont Campground, and it was booked just as fast as I could enter my payment information.

Shortly before the trip, I checked with some fishing buddies to see if anyone wanted to join. I've noticed that is much harder once all your fishing friends have young families, a point I'm also at. Still, I finally got one bite and we made plans to hit a favorite piece of water, albeit one I've only hit once or twice. This would be my first time through in the fall. 

We started hiking in fairly early. It was cool enough out that I kind of wanted a jacket but knew the hike would warm me up too much. So, I just trusted my long sleeves to be enough and we headed up the trail. I did wear my Patagonia ultralight wading pants that I bought several years ago. It was too warm for hiking in full chest waders, but I didn't want to get hypothermia either. These were originally bought for backpacking waders, but I occasionally wear them for non backpacking scenarios as well. They kept me from completely overheating, but I was still glad to finally step into the cool stream at the end of our hike. There is always a transition in spring and fall where wet wading is most comfortable mid and late in the day, but the morning hours are just a little on the cool side. That isn't a problem for front country trips, but when you hike in, it is a pain in the rear to carry multiple wading setups for different times of the day. So you just make do as much as possible.

When we got in the stream, I was rigged with a dry/dropper and had high expectations. With a quick rainbow and then a brown, I thought the day was about to bust wide open. Instead, however, the fish were about like what I normally expect on Deep Creek. In other words, they would eat if you did everything just right, but any misstep or bad cast sent them running. The ultra low water didn't help. The ongoing drought conditions in the area had flows even lower than usual for an already dry time of year. Still, we found just enough fish to keep things interesting. Then, finally, as the day warmed a little, the fish really started to turn on.

A high overcast delayed the best bite later than we had expected, but things eventually got going. At this point, we were both catching fish. Dry flies and nymphs were both producing. Eventually, some streamers were even tossed to great effect. It was one of those magical days in the mountains. The autumn colors while not quite peak, were good enough to add significant value to the trip for me.

A couple of the rainbows were more memorable than the rest. While all fish are beautiful, some just stick out in my memory for one reason or another. The first one that really caught my attention had nothing to do with size. In fact, it was on the smaller end of the spectrum for the day. The neat thing about this fish was how dark it was. Occasionally, I catch fish that are super dark. Invariable, and this fish was no exception, they come out of very dark holes or from underneath rocks. I have edited this picture to actually lighten things up a little if that tells you anything. 

The other memorable rainbow was a big surprise because it ate the dry fly. Not that fish on dries is surprising, of course, but when you've caught the vast majority of fish on the dropper for hours, and then a quality fish slurps the dry, it surprises you each time. The fish fought very well, but upon landing it, I can't say with 100% confidence that it is a wild fish. It might be, of course, and that is even likely. However, the line between stocked and wild on this drainage is hazy at best. Most of the fish are small enough and vibrant enough to tell, but with larger fish, I definitely start to have some questions. 

Late in the trip, as we were getting ready to hike out, we found some nicer fish. Not the true monsters that we knew inhabited the stream, but solid brown trout that would make anyone's day. Then, just after catching back to back brown trout, I found one more gorgeous rainbow trout on a dry fly. Talk about a perfect ending to a perfect day. Nothing could beat this day in the mountains, or so I thought. 

We got out fairly late, and eventually I made it back to camp and got some supper together. I was missing my family a little and almost drove home that evening. I decided it would be foolish to take down camp just to get home near midnight. I would be much happier and feel better if I got up and headed home in the morning. Such decisions can make or break a fishing trip, I just didn't realize it at the time. After eating chili and tortillas, I hit the sack. I slept well in the cool autumn night air and woke up refreshed.

I got camp broken down quickly and had my thoughts set on home when I thought of a favorite pool nearby. Deciding that it would be silly to drive this far without fishing it, I decided for a quick stop. No more than an hour, I thought to myself. 

Wow! What an hour. In that hour, I caught several fish in the 16-19 inch range and a 22.5 inch fish as the largest of the session. It was easily my best hour long fishing experience in the Smokies for brown trout ever. Not necessarily my best day ever, but right up there in that category as well. All of which just goes to show, you don't know if you don't go. Best of all, I still got home much earlier than originally planned or anticipated. Talk about the best of both worlds!

As a guide, we are often faced with less than stellar conditions. Only rarely are things bad enough that we have to cancel a trip. On some borderline days, I'll find myself saying to the client that exact some phrase, or they'll say it to me when we decide to stick to our plans. If you aren't getting out there, you'll never know how fishing might have been. In 2024, focus on getting out more often. You never know what you might be missing out on by skipping a day on the water.

Sorry for the heavy editing on these pictures, but some of my favorite spots are pretty recognizable. I hope you'll understand that I don't want a bunch of people in "my" spot next time I'm there...

Stay With It

Every year, I take a fishing trip in early to mid November. That trip is usually to the Smokies, and I usually end up camping for at least a couple of nights. This year, I decided to head to Smokemont Campground near Cherokee, NC. A couple of friends were planning on joining, either for both the camping and fishing, or at least for a day of fishing. 

The camping trip was a big success. A good rain the last night meant I was packing up wet gear the Friday morning I left. That slowed me down slightly, but still I was out of camp by a good time and headed to the first of a couple of destinations for that final few hours of fishing. Deep Creek is one of my favorites, probably because something good always seems to happen when I fish there. Nowadays, it seems quite crowded, yet the allure of a stream that has produced so many nice brown trout for me over the years keeps calling me back.

My buddy John was with me who also happened to be along when I caught the big brown trout I had been hunting for over a year. On that occasion, he just happened to have a GoPro with him and captured the whole thing. What a special treat. On this trip, I brought along a GoPro myself and was soon reminded of the importance of really dedicating to the process if I'm going to try and film. 

We had cut through the woods into a semi remote stretch of water where I knew there was a good pool or two. I was rigged and ready with a Tellico Nymph and a small caddis pupa and a euro style sighter. I've been using sighters when high sticking at least half of the time and almost always when I'm trying to teach someone such as on a guide trip. There are some obvious limitations to the use of a sighter section, but also a lot of positives as well. Anyway, I had this rig and started working up through the run. 

I didn't have a lot of expectations. A cold front had moved through during the night and the water temperatures were on the downhill slide. This time of year, water temperature direction seems to be a lot more important than the actual number. I would take 40 degree water after several days in the 30s, but don't want to see 48 degree water after several days in the 50s.

A couple of bumps encouraged me that this might turn out to be a decent day after all. Some small rainbows were messing with the caddis pupa but not quite getting hooked. Finally, I made a longer cast up the far seam. The flies bumped slowly along the bottom of a ledge as they dropped towards deeper water. One of the subtle pauses lasted a fraction of a second longer than the others had been. I raised the rod tip a bit and met slight resistance. Lifting even further, I finally went into the hook set that should have been my first move. Sure enough, the weight of the ledge turned into the weight of a fish after all as the nice little brown started bulldogging. This was another variation on the theme of never giving up on a possible fish. You have to stay with it, and in this case, I did. The fish was my reward for not giving up. 

The funny thing here is that I was really certain I was stuck on the ledge. Never mind that this was a great brown trout spot with softer water on the edge of a seam over bedrock. I thankfully didn't give up though and the fish hung on just long enough for me to turn it into a hook set. Most days, the fish in the Smokies are too quick and don't give you time for half hearted hook sets though. The real lesson is that you need to set on everything. This is something I preach every day as a guide, and yet here I was relearning the lesson for umpteenth (or billionth) time. This is something I see over and over again as a guide. Whether it is high sticking/tight lining/euro nymphing, or indicator nymphing, or even fishing with a dry dropper, people are quick to write off small jiggles and ticks as "just the bottom" or "just a rock" or, well, you get the idea. When you are nymphing, if there is any glimmer of doubt in your mind that a fish might be eating, set the hook. 

The only bad thing about this fish is that I didn't have the GoPro rolling. Yep, I went to the effort of bringing it with me, but didn't use it nearly enough. The best fish of the day wasn't captured on video because I thought I was just warming up. If you are going to start filming your adventures, my advice is to film everything. You never know when the fish of the day might strike.

Thankfully, the rest of the day had me dialed in just a little better. Soon I was catching some more fish, setting on every slight hesitation. The rainbows and browns were coming willingly, just often enough to keep me focused and engaged. Too much time between fish tends to lull the angler to sleep, but steady action keeps one's reflexes ready to strike.

As we go into the winter season, this lesson is even more important to learn. Trout tend to move slower and more deliberately in cold water. Often, you may not see much indication that the fish has taken the fly, but find an excuse to set the hook every single drift. You'll be amazed at how many of those turn into fish...

Flipping A Switch

There is never a dull moment when you are fishing as long as you approach each trip with a learning mindset. Some days the action is fast and furious. Often, I'll stick with what is working and simply try to catch as many fish as I can. Other times, I'll start experimenting. When the fishing is good is a great time to find out what will and also what won't work. Of course, when the fishing gets tough, you find out what truly works. Magic flies or techniques are few and far between, so most people keep them close under their hat when they discover such a thing.

Many days of fishing progress predictably with hot and cold stretches as fish shift through their daily cycle. This cycle changes month to month, season to season. In fact, it often changes from day to day.

The average day in the mountains depends a lot on the time of year. For example, during the summer, the best fishing is often early and late in the day with the fish taking a break during the hotter hours of midday. The bright sun overhead probably doesn't help either. In the cool of morning, both trout and the bugs they feed on are active. During the spring, the best fishing is often in the middle of the day. Additional factors can often wreak havoc on these norms, however.

Last week, on a guided fly fishing trip in the Great Smoky Mountains, we were reminded about the natural rhythm and how sensitive it often is. Our day started with mostly sunny skies. Occasional clouds did not stick around long. The bright sunlight allowed the water temperature to begin climbing. This time of year, that almost guarantees bugs. Fish moved up into the faster riffles and heads of pools as they fed on nymphs that were rapidly preparing to hatch. By around 11:00 am, some adults were beginning to hatch and fish responded enthusiastically.

About that same time, the wind started to pick up and the sky filled with clouds. Around 12:30 pm, the wind shifted rapidly and temperatures started to plummet. What had been a promising hatch dried up entirely by 1:30 pm with the last fish taken on a dry fly at about 1:15 pm. The abrupt change in water temperature made all the difference in the world. It was like flipping a switch. One minute we were casting to risers and the next our day was effectively over.

If the water temperature had kept rising, in other words, if the cold front didn't pass, the clouds in and of themselves were not an issue. In fact, some of my best spring dry fly fishing happens on lousy weather days with clouds or even rain. That said, once a cold front passes and the water temperatures start dropping, bugs usually shut down along with the fish, although not always.

That "not always" is what keeps it interesting. Blue winged olives come to mind as a bug that loves lousy weather days. Interestingly, a big cold front early in the fall can have the opposite effect, setting off a feeding frenzy.

Sometimes, the switch gets flipped but it is more like a gradually dying campfire flicker instead of a lightbulb going off. One of my best days ever fishing in the Park was in May quite a few years ago. I had hiked in a long ways, earning myself solitude and good fishing in the process. The rainbows, browns, and even a brook trout or two were greedy. By the end of the day, I had caught 70 trout, all on dry flies. By the end of the day, I was probably working a little too hard, wanting to hit that nice round number. Regardless, things just sort of slowed down. I remember getting hung up on several numbers, 65 for example was hard to get past. That said, the fishing slowed down and finally quit. Number 70 almost didn't happen, but one suicidal brook trout just couldn't help itself.

That was a strange day, not bad, just strange. It was the day I knew it was going to be good fishing. That may not seem too odd, but I also knew I was going to see a bear. Up until then, I had never seen one while fishing. It happened too. Go check out the full story via the link above.

On the very best days, it seems you can do no wrong as an angler. Those days are rare, however, and should be full savored when they do happen to come around. The rest of the time, be prepared for that switch too flip. It could go from poor fishing to excellent, or it could be the other way. Whatever happens though, don't stop learning...

Fly Fishing The Bend Around Bumgardner Ridge on Deep Creek

The Bend. Bumgardner Ridge. The stuff of legend. This is remote Smoky Mountain fishing at its finest. Inaccessible water that rarely gets fished, this is just what everyone is looking for. It also happens to be some of the toughest water I have ever fished, and it is about as remote as you can get. Our day started a bit earlier than the previous day. We would need to walk about three miles back down the trail before reaching our entry point for the day's fishing. Breakfast was quickly cooked and eaten, lunches were stowed in our day packs, and we hit the trail.

On the hike down, I kept getting distracted by the wildflowers. The day was about as perfect as can be for an early spring hike. Many wildflowers were spotted on this trip, but as the focus was on fishing, I eventually pulled myself away and kept moving down the trail. I took quite a few pictures of the flowers, but most don't do them justice. These two will probably make you think that everything blooming was purple which isn't true. They just happened to be two of the better shots I got. By the way, explain to me why those violets are called "Blue" if you can. They look purple to me and my eye doctor assures me that I am not color blind.

"Dwarf Crested Iris" ©2019 David Knapp Photography

"Common Blue Violets" ©2019 David Knapp Photoraphy

When we reached campsite #60, we also reached the access point for our fishing marathon. The bend around Bumgardner Ridge features a lot of high gradient water and this starts immediately above this backcountry campsite. In fact, we were almost tempted to bail on this fishing trip before we made it more than a hundred yards. The water was still on the high side from lots of recent rainfall. This made moving back and forth across the stream challenging at best.

We weren't catching fish at a lightning pace either. Because this water is close to a backcountry campsite, the first few hundred yards assumedly receives a fair amount of fishing pressure. As we moved higher up the drainage, we began to feel like we were truly on remote waters. The trail here loops far back from the stream as it crosses Bumgardner Ridge. Thus, once we entered this section, we were committed to make it through or have to wade all the way back down to our starting point.

Fish started to show up, although not in huge numbers. We caught one here and one there, but never several in one spot. More than anything, this was a product of heavy water that was borderline for fishing in many spots. Some of the better pocket water was simply too fast and turbulent. Here, my buddy John fishes one pocket next to a rapid. Once the water drops a bit more, what was then heavy water will turn into the best fishing water in this section. Overall, I think this section would fish better in the summer or even fall.

Moving on up the river, we came to several gorgeous pools. There were probably 4 or 5 excellent pools in this whole stretch. In other words, a LOT of wading and a LOT of work for a few prime fishing spots. We persevered, however, and were rewarded with some beautiful wild rainbow and brown trout. This is the Great Smoky Mountains backcountry, and the real reward here is a pristine and remote environment where you won't see another angler all day. This seems to be increasingly hard to find these days. For this reason, the fishing was great even while the catching was a little slow.

By mid day, the fish were looking up and we kept switching between nymph rigs and dry/dropper rigs depending on the water type. As much as possible we stuck with the dry fly setups. A seriously good hatch never really materialized on this trip, but there were enough bugs around to get the attention of the trout. John got several dry fly eats in this hole, for example.

John was fishing an Orvis Superfine rod which was perfect for dry flies on this type of water. I had brought an Orvis 10' 3 weight Recon which not only fishes dry flies very well, but is also perfect for high sticking nymphs as anglers have done in the Smokies for a 100 years. Back in the day it was done with a long cane pole, and today we use modern graphite fly rods, but otherwise the techniques are still nearly identical. The long rod is used to run heavily weighted nymphs through deep dark runs where trout like to hide and the result is truly amazing.

There are many fish in these creeks and an angler who is effective at high sticking will find lots of those trout. While similar to the newer techniques known collectively as "euro nymphing," high sticking still has its own distinct flavor. For example, on this trip I left the sighter or indicator tippet at home. Split shot is used in addition to weighted flies. There are other subtle differences, but in reality euro nymphing is a new spin on an old method we have been using for a long time here in east Tennessee.

Even in the high water, stealth was important. We were able to get closer than usual, but still made sure to stay low and sneak up on the trout. The fish in the Smokies are some of the spookiest I've ever fished for. If I could share one piece of knowledge with visiting anglers, it would be to focus on stealth. Dress to blend in with your surroundings, stay low, and think like a predator. Stalk the trout you are after.

By late afternoon, we were both getting tired. This had turned into one of the longest and hardest days of fishing I've ever had in the Smokies, but I wouldn't trade that experience for anything. This was a long time goal of mine, and I'm thrilled to have finally made it to fly fish around the bend below Bumgardner Ridge. We had taken some very specific observations early that morning on the hike in and now we got out of the creek a bit short of the accepted exit point for this stretch which is directly across from Bridge Creek. We climbed out before that and were glad that we did. Both of us were tired and that is when accidents usually start to happen. Better to quit and fish another day than to push on and get injured.

Back in camp that evening, we discussed the next day. Our original itinerary involved moving upstream to a couple more camps over the next two nights, finally exiting to Newfound Gap Road on Monday. The last weather report we got called for rain and storms on Sunday as well as a good chance of rain on Saturday. We knew the fishing would get tough if we stayed and decided that hiking out the following morning would be the best plan. Neither of us was dying to stay holed up in a tent while it rained or, even worse, stormed all day. This proved to be an excellent decision but we wouldn't know how good until the next day.

Deep Creek is one of my favorite fly fishing destinations in the Smokies. While I don't always catch as many trout as on other streams of the Smokies, something good always happens. On this trip, it was beginning to look like the "something good" for this trip was fulfilling my longtime goal of fishing around Bumgardner Ridge, but we still had the hike out.

To be continued...

Finding Motivation

For someone who loves to fish, finding motivation is not normally a difficult task. This has been anything but a normal spring, though. In fact, while the weather outside says it is spring, we are still waiting for the calendar to catch up. I have been busy with some graduate coursework in Outdoor Education which means that my fishing time has suffered. Last week was busy with guide trips and so I intended to use a free day or two this week to catch up on school work.

My plans began to change on Monday. The predicted rain was no longer predicted, or at least not in the intensity and volume of earlier predictions. My morning responsibilities were cancelled, and then my buddy Pat Tully sent a text Monday afternoon that provided the last jolt of motivation. The message simply read, "Hey are you fishing the Park tomorrow I'm getting off work at 1030."

After yet another weather forecast consultation that went a little deeper than the usual glance at the reports, I made the decision to go for it. My excitement was quickly growing. The way things are shaping up, I may not have too many opportunities to fish a hatch this spring. I was hoping that everything would work out for bugs and rising trout.

The next morning, I woke up naturally at a ridiculously early hour and was immediately wide awake. Funny how hard it is to get up normally except when fishing is involved. Thankfully that extends to guiding which means that I've found the one career I can actually get up early to go to work for. I grabbed my gear, threw together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and was soon on the road. Just enough time was available to stop at Little River Outfitters and pick up some streamer hooks.

My next stop was the famed Wye. Thankfully the swimmers and sunbathers were not out yet. Give it another month or two if you want to catch that hatch. I rigged up a streamer rod and wandered up and down the river searching for a big brown. Before long, Pat showed up and I decided to get more serious about things. Rigging a nymph rod and a dry fly rod, I was prepared for any eventuality.

We talked things over and agreed that mayflies and rising trout were at the top of the agenda for the day. With a plan in place, we headed up river to find the bugs and hopefully risers. We didn't have to look very hard.

The very first pool I wanted to look at had rising trout. Upon closer inspection we saw that the trout were rising to a bounty of Blue Quills that were drifting down before flying off. Despite my initial confidence, the trout were smarter than either of us. I missed one fish and between the two of us, the rest of the fish spooked or otherwise disappeared. Neither of us was too concerned since we had a lot of good pools still to explore.

Pat chose the next spot and it proved a good one with more bugs and rising trout. I had the first shot in our first pool so it was Pat's turn to take the first cast at the second stop. He snuck into position and started figuring out what turned out to be a tricky drift. Lots of mending and several casts later, he got the fly in front of a fish and had the first trout of the day hooked.

The excitement put down the rest of the trout. We wanted to check some other spots still, so instead of waiting for the fish to come back up, the decision was made to move on again. The next spot turned out to be the jackpot.

As we drove slowly by, Pat announced that trout were definitely rising. I quickly eased the car into a nearby pulloff and we grabbed our gear. Soon I was sneaking into position and started casting. With so many risers, I wanted to cast everywhere at once. Knowing better, I tried to cast at specific fish and soon that strategy paid off. My first trout was of the brown variety, and I was a happy angler.

We took turns for the next hour, catching trout after trout. The fish weren't really picky as long as you were throwing a small dark mayfly that roughly imitated the Blue Quills that were hatching steadily. The trout didn't seem as locked in on the occasional Quill Gordon for whatever reason, but we didn't care. Rising trout are only frustrating when you cannot figure out what to feed them. Happy to have rising trout feeding with abandon, I was having as much fun as you can have with a fly rod.

Photo Courtesy of Pat Tully 

Eventually, the weather turned nasty. We fished in the rain for a while and caught some nice fish. Hunger won when the hatch started to peter out and the fish were mostly done rising.

After an extended lunch break, we hit it again as the rain started to become more spotty. I started carrying both the dry fly rod and the streamer rod. A few more fish would fall for the dry fly, but the last highlight of the day belonged to the streamer rod.

I recently purchased an Orvis Recon 9' 6 weight with a sink tip line for streamer fishing. You can never have too many streamer rods. Anyway, I wanted to catch a fish on this new rod for myself Clients had already caught a few, so clearly the rod had some good mojo, but I wanted to catch one as well. Tied to the end of a short stout leader was an olive sculpin pattern that I like.

We were about done with the day when I decided to throw into one last pool. I had to climb down the large rock wall that lined the stream, and my back casts went over the road above. When Pat warned me of an approaching car, I quickly quit casting and my fly fell 15 feet in front of me. As I hurried to gain control by stripping line in, a hungry brown rocketed off the bottom and hammered the fly as it swam past. Laughing as I netted the fish, I knew when to accept a gift trout. The day was done. I was happy with one last fish and glad I had allowed myself to take a day off to fish.

Photo Courtesy of Pat Tully