High and Cold

Spring in east Tennessee, Quill Gordons, Blue Quills, Black and Brown Stoneflies, rising trout....and don't forget the daffodils and everything else that combines to make this one of the best times of the year.  Conventional wisdom says that the bugs should be hatching around the first of March give or take a week.  By mid-month things should be pretty awesome, in a normal year that is.

The new norm is, well, anything but normal.  Last year the bugs were hatching a full month ahead of schedule in early February.  Shoot, I even had a day in mid-February that was so warm that it was NOT prime fishing unless you arrived early in the morning.  By noon the hatches were over.  Fast forward a year and a warm and very wet winter has been followed by a cool and wet spring, make that cold and wet.

My initial fears of arriving after the peak hatches were soon replaced by fears of no hatches.  In the end the actual conditions were somewhere in the middle but closer to the latter extreme.  My first day in the Park was last Tuesday, March 12.  While driving into Townsend, a text brought a call from my buddy Josh Pheiffer who was heading into the Park to fish.  After arranging where to meet, we were soon on the stream and looking for trout.

In a couple of hours of fishing, we saw a handful of fish with the best being a 15-16 inch brown that I fished for but never even remotely interested in my offerings.  I also missed a healthy brown on a big Parachute Adams but that was it.  The water was cold, high, and clear which made things a bit tricky.  Finally we parted ways for the evening with my dad and myself heading back to Townsend for the night.

Photo by David H. Knapp

The next morning brought back the excitement at being in the mountains.  I knew that Wednesday would be the toughest day in the Park but was dead set on making the most of my time there.  My dad was just along to hang out.  It was great having him along to chat with and made the long fishless periods go much quicker.  By mid-afternoon, the waters had warmed from frigid (upper 30s) to very cold (low 40s).  I wasn't particularly hopeful and had decided to just fish streamers.

My new 5 weight was rigged with a small white streamer like I fish out here on the local creeks.  My seven weight was rigged with fast sinking line and a much larger streamer.  I was covering my bases size-wise but was dedicated to fishing streamers on this day.

Finally, in a pool recommended by my friend and Smokies big fish guru Joe McGroom, I spotted a rise.  Huh???  The sun had not been out much, nevertheless, a few bugs were hatching here and there and soon I spotted a very nice brown rising to the snack.  The two isolated rises did not deter me from my original intent and I was soon probing the depths with the seven weight.

Gradually I worked out more and more line.  Casting was tricky with all the trees and high bank behind me.  However, I finally got something resembling a rhythm down.  Two false casts with a vigorous double haul would land the streamer on the far side of the current.  Three quick mends while throwing out more line soon had the fly swimming properly downstream and across.  On one of these drifts, something slammed the streamer.  Finally, a fish, I thought.

Fighting the fish through the heavy current, I soon had a nice glimpse and was thrilled.  Not a bad first fish of the year in the Smokies!!!  My dad graciously came over and took the camera from me to document this beautiful brown trout.  I couldn't wipe the smile off of my face.

Photo by David H. Knapp 

Photo by David H. Knapp

Something about catching a nice fish like this makes me appreciate my surroundings even more.  Instead of immediately fishing even harder to catch another, I took a breather and used my camera to help me remember that moment.  The water continued to roll past.  I noticed a single large boulder across the stream facing the onslaught of water and was impressed at the forces it had to withstand to still be there at the head of this pool.  Many Smokies pools are completely different this spring as a result of the high water this past winter.

Eventually, I felt like fishing some more.  Further up river, I came to a nice undercut bank with deep soft water next to it.  I just new there had to be a fish somewhere in there.  The soft water reminded me that I was still carrying a 5 weight in addition to the heavier rod.  I set the 7 weight down and started jigging the little streamer along the bank.  The second cast produced a spirited strike and soon I was admiring my second Smokies trout of 2013, a colorful 8 inch brown.

Again, I paused to enjoy the beauty around me.  On some trips, I almost wish that I could just photograph while someone else fishes, almost.  There is something rewarding to me about not only coming into such close contact with nature by fishing, but also photographing the experience for rememberance later.

My day was becoming better by the moment.  While landing the last fish I had noticed mayflies crawling out along the bank and quickly drying their wings.  The cold weather had slowed down the hatches but not stopped them altogether.  The little brown I had caught was obviously along that bank to eat the nymphs migrating to the bank to hatch.  I paused to wonder whether a nymph pattern would have fooled the fish as well, coming to the conclusion that, yes, it probably would have worked just fine.

The day was beginning to draw to a conclusion, but I had one or two more pools on my mind.  Heading upriver even further, I soon came to the last pool of the day.  Just one more, I thought to myself.  By this time, I had changed over to a big dark articulated fly.  The second hook was cut off at the bend to remain legal in Park waters.  Slinging the fly across the current and beginning the retrieve, I felt a tug after the first strip.  An especially hungry brown had grabbed the fly, and I was excited again.  What a way to end the day.

Soon I had my third and final brown for the day to hand.  My dad again graciously took pictures, and I slipped the hook out and watched the fish swim away.

Photo by David H. Knapp

Photo by David H. Knapp

Considering the water conditions, I think it was a pretty amazing day on the water.  Besides, the highlight of the trip for me was just seeing so many friends and family in Tennessee and visiting the Smoky Mountains.  Catching fish was just icing on the cake.

The final day of my Smokies excursion would bring yet another great experience, but more on that later.  Meanwhile, here are a few more pictures of the streams.

Fishing Local

The local creeks are fishable!!!!  That's the big news, at least for me.  The fishing is challenging but on warm days it can improve drastically as low elevation snow and ice melt fill the creek and the water takes on a slight stain.  I managed a couple of hours fishing on both Friday and Sunday afternoons.  The difference?  Friday was in the 50s and the water was slightly stained while on Sunday I was fighting ice on my line and in my guides the whole time.

Amazingly, there were more fish sitting out on Sunday but they were also way more spooky than the fish on Friday.  Of course, with the slight stain on Friday it is a distinct possibility that I wasn't seeing fish that were actually there.  The fish were a bit more willing to chase on Friday in the slightly warmer water temperatures.  The larger fish did not seem to want to expend energy for the most part.  I had some nicer browns come out and casually stare at my slowly bounced streamer but looking and eating were two different things.

One of the amusing aspects of Friday's trip was being photographed for the Daily Camera, Boulder's newspaper.  More to come on that later.

I fished slowly and enjoyed my time on the water while adding to my knowledge of Boulder Creek.  Each stream has its own set of quirks, and I'm slowly learning what is now my local creek.  As with other Colorado waters, etiquette seems to be lacking on Boulder Creek (expect a rant in the near future).  I had one guy stop and fish the other side of the pool I was working and even casting in the same spot I was fishing on Friday, and I'm talking about a fly fisherman who should have known better.   Anyone who has ever fished Boulder Creek knows the pools can be a bit tight to say the least.  The best part, I could have hit him with probably 5 feet of line out plus my 9' leader.  Yeah, that's close!

Despite the cramped fishing conditions in one pool, everything else was wide open for me to fish!  I worked the pools with various small streamers and started to find willing fish.  The larger fish were tight to structure and would ease out from under ice shelves or back eddies to stare at my streamer before vanishing again.  On Friday I finished the day with 4 little browns to hand and all came on the streamer.

Yesterday, despite the cold temperatures, the ice along the creek was continuing to loosen and melt although at a much reduced rate.  I expect this current cold snap to keep the fish sluggish for at least a few days.  Early on, I had some shelf ice that looked like the bank (covered in sand) break under me.  Since I was in hiking boots and jeans, the result was a bit chilly.  Thankfully I stayed warm enough to fish for a good hour or so before calling it quits.  The ice on the stream created some beautiful pictures just waiting for my camera to come out.

The only fish I managed yesterday was a persistent brook trout that hit and/or followed again and again before finally impaling itself on the small streamer.  Gotta love brookies!!!!

In the same pool that I caught the brook trout in I finally found a better than average brown.  It came out to follow my streamer once and that was it.  However, I do know where it lives and will be back to catch it!!!  Streamers will be my weapon of choice unless I stumble across a good hatch...

This winter I really fished streamers almost exclusively in the freestone streams nearby when they were fishable.  On tailwaters I have stuck with the tried and true double nymph rig with mostly small stuff.  Streamers are nice in that they require a more active approach and also the results are so visual.  There's nothing like seeing a charging brown, even if its just a little 8 incher.

I've been tying more and more lately and will probably fish again this next weekend.  The long weekend could turn out to be epic so stay tuned for more!!!

Good Weather

My trip last weekend was the fishing version of making hay while the sun shines or something like that.  I had tentatively planned, or perhaps considered is a better word, a couple of camping trips this fall.  Every time something came up though so when last weekend was looking like good weather, I figured it was high time I headed for the hills before the snow started to fly in earnest.  The long range forecast was already hinting at our current cold and snowy weather so I had extra motivation to get out and fish before things became too miserable.

The thought of sleeping in my own comfortable bed kept me home for one night to rest up for the next two days of bliss in nature.  When I finally headed out, it was after a leisurely breakfast and all around relaxing morning.  As a fisherman, I know how to get up early to get to the good water ahead of everyone else, but for this particular trip, I was not too worried about fighting any crowds.  Some waters are thankfully overlooked.

On the way, I was continuously in awe at the beauty of the mountains surrounding me.  When I finally arrived at my destination, I took the time to figure out where I would be pitching my tent for the night and then headed out with the fly rod to look for some fish.  The perfect fall weather allowed me to simply wear Chacos instead of messing with waders and boots.  I soon found myself patrolling a likely meadow stretch and probing the undercuts and log jams with a nice yellow streamer.

Less than stellar results soon led to a fly change and then I started locating fish consistently.  The fish would flash out from a deep cutbank or weedbed in a pool or a mass of logs that just screamed "brown trout castle!"  For some reason, I was still having a difficult time connecting though.  One particularly nice 18-19 incher surged out of a huge weedbed and when I threw back after missing him the first time, nailed the streamer but unexplainably still missed the hook.  Dejected, I continued exploring until I happened to look over my shoulder.  This would be the theme of the week.  Great scenery surrounded me but it seems I only noticed when I slowed down enough to glance around and actually enjoy it.

Realizing its never just about the fishing, I decided to try a new stretch of stream and began fresh with a new mindset.  Moving with stealth, I was soon spotting fish.  However, I didn't catch many and definitely nothing too large.  It was one of those days where I was just enjoying the experience and never bothered to pull out the camera until the last fish of the day.  It was a chunky brown and I was content to call it a day after landing the colored up beauty.  Glancing over my shoulder, I was again reminded that I needed to slow down.  Time away from nature tends to speed life up and complicate things.

Staring at the sunset transforming the sky above, I was mesmerized into remembering why I actually bother to head out into the wilds.  The rest of weekend proceeded at a much slower pace as I began to actually enjoy the experience instead of just making the experience.  Things were now right, and I knew that the next day I would fish much more efficiently.  Mindset is important even in fishing.  My best days fishing have always come once I was relaxed and not trying too hard...I had reached that point and knew that the fish better watch out the next day.

After taking in the sunset and remembering that I did have a camera with me, I headed back to camp to fix some food and maybe even see some shooting stars.  Having accidentally left my fleece, I layered on the long sleeved shirts and topped it off with my raincoat as a windbreaker.  Camp chair set up in the now dark camping facing the mountains, I sank down to enjoy the stillness of the night.  Overhead, the stars were shining brightly and it was only a couple of minutes before the show started.  The Orionid meteor shower was supposed to be happening, and seeing one so quickly suggested it might be a good night to try and photograph some.  Digging out the camera along with gloves as the cold was starting to take a toll, I started taking pictures.  Sadly, other than two more shooting stars, the show was pretty much a bust.  The night sky was awesome though including the moon.  I enjoyed shooting until the cold was too piercing, and I headed for the warmth of my sleeping bag for the night.

The long night was made longer by the fact that the "forecast" low was reached probably by 9:30 p.m. and quickly passed as the mercury dipped lower.  My sleeping bag was still within its acceptable rating temperature wise but I definitely could have slept warmer.  Thus, when it became light the next morning I was excited for the sun to hit my tent and warm things up.  After going for an extended period without the light getting significantly brighter, I made myself squirm out of the sleeping bag and back into my long sleeve shirt layers.

A thick band of clouds was blocking the sun to the east although it had risen above the ridge at this point.  Deciding to try and get some good shots in, I drove down the valley searching for the perfect light and angle to photograph the mountains to my west.  Experimenting several times, I found several nice shots although not the one I had originally envisioned and hoped for.  What a perfect excuse to go back sometime!!!

Just about the time the sun burst from behind the clouds, I realized that since the stream was so close, I should probably fish a little before heading back to camp for breakfast.  I was soon into fish including a nice 15 incher that shot out from a dark undercut bank next to a back eddy.  Happy with the experience, I didn't even bother to take out the camera.  Not far upstream, I would decide the camera was a good idea.

I was walking slowly just looking when I spotted two browns laying out on the far side of a deep hole watching for a meal.  When I spotted the fish I was already too close but decided there was nothing to do but attempt a cast.  With the sun almost directly behind me, they may have been blinded and not able to see me.  Whatever the reason, when my fly splashed just upstream, the larger of the two nosed over and decided to see if it was good to eat.  After a brief fight on 2x tippet, I horsed the beautiful fish into the shallows for a couple quick photographs.

Releasing the fish, I made sure it was ready to go but kept the camera ready.  As it swam purposefully away, I shot three quick photos and the first one turned out great.

Looking up, the reflection of the forest called for a photo as well so I just kept on shooting.

After working upstream a bit further, my stomach reminded me that I still had not eaten breakfast (unless you call chocolate chip cookies breakfast), so I found myself headed back to the car and then camp to take down the tent and also eat something.  Along the way, I found more photo worthy scenery but was hungry enough that I was satisfied with just a shot or two.

Fueled up with some awesome pomegranate and dried cherry granola, it was back to the hunt for fish.  Lots of fish were out feeding by this time of the afternoon.  One nice trout in particular was in an almost impossible spot with heavy brush both above and around.  I finally managed to drop a fly in but only after spooking the fish so my efforts were futile.

Not far upstream, a different story emerged.  I found a nice female brown hanging out watching for food.  She followed my fly on the first cast but missed the hook.  The second cast was right on target and I watched as she turned and ate.  Carefully taking a picture, I had her back in the water in no time and she rocketed back to the sanctuary of deep water.

The rest of the afternoon became more and more focused on pictures.

Eventually, I realized that more fishing would probably be greedy and it was time to head towards home.  Starting the week exhausted was not in my plans and I didn't want to get home too late.  My sudden urge to travel coincided with the elk's late day trip back to the meadows to feed.  The zoom lens I had been lugging around all weekend suddenly seemed awfully necessary as I quickly changed it out with the lens I normally leave on the camera.

During my drive out of the area, I came across at least 5 separate herds of elk.  The males were still bugling at least occasionally which is always great entertainment for a Tennessee boy who only saw such things on National Geographic growing up.

After tearing myself away from the last photo opportunities, I headed home content.  The mountains fill my soul with such tranquility that it is always a little sad to leave, but I realize that the greatest impact I can have on society is probably where people actually live so it was not entirely reluctantly that I travelled back over the mountains.  I was rested and rejuvenated to teach for another week.