The Journey West

For many people like me who happen to be avid trout anglers in the eastern United States, the holy grail of our sport is a pilgrimage west. For some, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity to cast flies in streams where trout are large and plentiful and the bugs hatch like clockwork. For others, this is an annual or semi-annual tradition. While I have been blessed to travel and even live in the west more than I deserve, every trip still excites me as if it is my first and perhaps only trip.

Preparing for the Trip

As my good friend Byron Begley of Little River Outfitters once said, "preparation is a form of anticipation." While this quote comes from the excellent daily fishing report from his shop, it is actually referencing his own preparations for a big fly fishing trip. So much goes into getting ready for each and every trip. There are may flies to be tied of course. This is true even if one's fly boxes are already crammed full to overflowing. Most fly anglers take the Boy Scouts Motto to the extreme. Being prepared is good and all, but when you decide to take your wife's Toyota Corolla on the long awaited road trip to Yellowstone for the good gas mileage, space is at a premium and extra fly boxes start to look an awfully lot like clutter.

I slowly pulled together an increasingly mountainous pile of gear. In the weeks leading up to the trip, I ordered a new two person sleeping pad. When it didn't fit in my two man tent, I also had to buy a new tent. Such is life when you are getting ready for a big trip. Unforeseen dilemmas appear and must be dealt with, but the preparation marches steadily towards the climax when suddenly you find yourself loading the car carefully, fitting each piece in like a jigsaw puzzle. The thought is always tickling your brain that it might not be possible to get everything back in the car for the return trip, but you move forward and hope for the best.

Departing for the West

On the day of our departure, my wife Leah had to work before we actually left. The plan was for me to pack the car and do all of the last minute chores around the house. When she got home, we planned to head west for an all-night drive. We had reservations in the Black Hills of South Dakota for the next evening so it was essential to make good time that night. We hit I-40 west from Crossville Tennessee at around 6:00 pm Central time. The sun was sinking low in the sky as we approached Nashville. By the time we were in Kentucky, the reality of a long night ahead was setting in.

Other than quick stops for gas, we kept on moving through the night. Paducah and St. Louis came and went. Finally, as I approached Kansas City at 2:00 am, I was getting sleepy. Knowing that a bit of rest was crucial for the hard push west that day, we found a rest area and stopped for a quick snooze. Four hours later, Leah woke up and felt ready to drive. I felt like I had taken NyQuil and just could not bring myself out of the fog. I guess I'm getting too old for these late nights and long drives.

Enter South Dakota

As the sun came up, we were soon in Iowa and then South Dakota. Excited to finally be out on the plains, I was awake and took over driving duties for the rest of the day. Of course, it would be a long day. The plan was to stop briefly in the Badlands on our way to the Black Hills. We arrived there late in the day and made the quick drive through the Park. Wildlife abounded and we saw several interesting birds and animals including mule deer, bighorn sheep, prairie dogs, a lone bison, and a burrowing owl.

The sun was setting as we merged back onto I-90 headed west towards Rapid City. There we would leave the interstate and head southwest into the heart of the Black Hills. It was well after dark as we pulled into Hill City and found our accommodations for the night. Both of us were extremely tired and fell asleep shortly after hitting the bed. The next morning I felt like a new person. A good night's rest and nice breakfast had me ready for another big day.

Big Day Two

The agenda for that day was optimistic: stop by Mt. Rushmore, drive through the scenic Spearfish Canyon, see Devils Tower in Wyoming, get groceries for the weekend ahead, and finally snag a campsite in the Bighorn Mountains near the Medicine Wheel for the night. Amazingly, we kept moving and made it all happen. As the sun sank low in the sky, we had our tent setup at the Bald Mountain Campground near the Medicine wheel just off of highway 14A high in the Bighorn Mountains. Nearby, cattle kept things interesting for motorists by wandering along the highway throughout the night. The occasionally honking reminded us that, while it might seem that we were in the middle of nowhere, civilization was still just a car ride away.

The Moose Magnet Legend Grows 

This day was a continual list of highlights. The prairie dogs highly entertained us at Devils Tower while a moose spotting added to a growing legend. My car, the Moose Magnet, was not with us on this trip. Leah's car gets better gas mileage and we decided that would be more important than marginally better comfort. The sun was getting low as we ascended the Bighorn Mountains. Driving up a high mountain valley complete with a meandering meadow lined with seemingly endless willows, I mentioned to Leah that she should keep her eye out for moose as it was excellent moose habitat. As I drove around a curve a quarter mile later, I saw it and added, "Like that moose over there..." Sure enough, a large bull moose was feeding below us in the waning light. Just up the road, we would spot a second moose, this time a cow. By the time our trip was over, more moose would be spotted prompting my wife to suggest that perhaps I was the moose magnet and not my car. I countered with the suggestion that maybe my awesome car had just rubbed off on her car. Regardless, in the meantime the legend continues to grow.

Medicine Wheel Wildlife

Waking up the next morning as the sun was rising, we decided to head over to the Medicine Wheel and let the sun warm things up before taking down our dew laden tent. I'm always in awe at the Medicine Wheel. The large stone "wheel" lying on the shoulder of a mountain in the northwest Bighorn Mountains is around tree line which makes for some incredible views. While we were there, heavy smoke from fires across the west made visibilities restricted. The Bighorn Basin was completely obscured. Views to the east across the Bighorns were marginally better but still not great. The marmots and pikas proved to be a highlight of our visit to the Medicine Wheel. Already some of my favorite creatures, Leah also fell in love with them, particularly the pikas.

Western Cattle Roundup

Upon returning to camp, we noticed several cowboys and cowgirls heading out. As it turns it, we were fortunate to witness a roundup. The free range cattle that had been startling drivers on the road the night before were pointed down the valley. Snow was not far away at this late point in the summer and the ranchers were apparently moving them towards lower elevations. This was perhaps one of Leah's favorite parts of the trip in no small part because of watching the herd dogs helping out. The dogs looked like they were having the time of their lives and so were we watching them work.

Repacking for Yellowstone

The sun finally dried things out. I am always amazed at how fast this process can happen in the dry climate of the American west. Taking down a tent and putting it back up is much better if that tent is dry. We were soon back on the road and making the harrowing descent into the Bighorn Basin. This was the day we would make it into Yellowstone and we were both excited!!!

-To be continued...

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Summer Brown Trout in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park

Read just a few of my blog posts and you will quickly ascertain that brown trout are one of my absolute favorite species to target on the fly rod. Given the opportunity, I would just about rather fish for brown trout in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park than any other species anywhere else. That said, you won't find me being picky either. I get a lot of joy out of the little seven inch rainbow trout that are a lot more common in the Smokies and catching native southern Appalachian brook trout might be my next favorite thing to catching big browns. On some days I would probably even say the brook trout are my favorite thing.

Fishing in the summer for big brown trout in the Smokies is probably about the best time to catch one, at least in the course of simply going out and fishing and lucking into one. Fall through spring is a better time to specifically and intentionally target these fish as they are easier to spot during those months, but in the summer they are just as likely if not more so to eat a fly.

This summer has been one of the better ones for fishing the Great Smoky Mountains in recent memory. Normal to often below normal temperatures combined with a wet summer has made the current conditions good to excellent. The effects of the drought of 2016 are finally showing in larger fish sizes now in 2018 as well. Overall, this has been and will continue to be an incredible year for fishing in the Smokies.

I have long said that the most important part of catching big trout, especially in the Smokies, is time put in on the water. The people who catch the most fish and especially the largest fish are the ones who spend the most time out on the water. When it comes to stalking large brown trout in the Smokies, there is no substitute for experience. This year, one of my regular customers and good friend Greg Hall has made it a point to spend a significant amount of time in the Smokies. We have been fishing a day in the Park nearly every month this year except for January and it is really showing with the fish he is catching. The last two trips in particular have been amazing.

I could spend a lot of time talking about how hard we worked for these fish, but in all honesty both of them were relatively easy to catch. Both came in the course of simply covering water which is probably the best strategy this time of year.

The last trip in particular was special because I was able to get in on the action as well. I asked Greg if he had anywhere to be or if he wanted to fish late. I was thinking about fishing for an hour or so for myself and told him we would just extend our trip time and I would start fishing at the conclusion of the usual "guide" portion of the trip. He readily agreed to more time on the water which set the stage for me to get in on the good brown trout fishing in the Smokies this summer.

When he landed his brute, it was already late in the day. I guided him for a bit longer, but soon it was time for both of us to fish. Leap frogging up the river, we started nailing fish through the fast pocket water. By the time we reached the top of the first section of fast pocket water, I was already to double digits for numbers and was hoping the nice pools at the top would produce a good fish for me.

The first good pool was surprisingly slow. The second and third proved much better. I took the top pool and left the bottom one for Greg who started pulling out nice big wild rainbow trout one after another. I got one rainbow and then had an extended drought. Knowing how good the water was, I continued to slowly dissect the pool, fishing every inch thoroughly. Finally, right at the very top in some faster current, it happened. The indicator shot down and I was hooked up with what felt like a freight train on the 10' 3 weight Orvis Recon, perhaps one of the finest rods for fishing in the Smokies I might add. Up and down the pool we went before the fish finally allowed me to guide it into the shallows and my waiting net.

This was probably the only time this summer that I'll really be able to target big brown trout in the Smokies. The next time I can get away and fish will be in the fall. Winter will allow a lot more time on the water for me hopefully.

As far as techniques and tactics for chasing these big brown trout in the Smokies, I high stick with nymphs and sunken terrestrials more than anything in the warm months. In the water, I just drop the terrestrials and maybe add some streamers as well. Learning the subtle nuances of high sticking (Euro nymphing for you modern anglers) is an art form with over 100 years of history here in the Southern Appalachians. There is simply no substitute for time on the water in gaining these skills and a fly fishing guide will shorten the learning curve immensely. That said, get out and practice if you want to catch these beauties and most of all, have fun!!!

Cumberland Plateau Smallmouth Bass Memorial Day 2018 Adventure

Every year, I try to fish the Cumberland Plateau smallmouth bass streams a handful of times. The opportunities have decreased the last couple of years since the best summer smallmouth fishing coincides with my busiest guide season. However, I still sneak out at least a couple of days a year. This year, the first trip just happened to be Memorial Day. I kept the holiday weekend open on my guide calendar so I could spend time with friends and family. This worked out perfectly as my wife was able to join me along with Mark Brown from Chota Outdoor Gear and my buddy Jayson who is a smallmouth fanatic as well.

We hit a favorite section of a favorite stream, one that we hoped wouldn't be too crowded on this holiday. Turns out that we picked correctly. Over the course of the day, the only people we saw were just a few people swimming in the old swimming how at the parking area. The rest of the time we had it to ourselves.

Four different things really stand out in my memory of that day. First was a nice bass I caught on my first cast. I was wading up through the stream along one bank with my wife Leah. We had passed Mark who was working the tailout of a large pool. I glanced down and saw this bass charging me to investigate the commotion my wading was making. I quickly grabbed the fly and pitched it a few feet out towards the fish. It turned, glided over, and sucked it in without any hesitation. Sight fishing is my favorite thing to do so that made my day. It wasn't the coolest part of the trip, though.

The next memorable thing was another sight fishing opportunity. Again, my wife and I were wading along the bank. This time we were passing Jayson as he worked the middle of this large pool. Again, another fish came charging over to see what the commotion was all about. This time it was a smallmouth bass. I know that the fish would probably spook if I moved much at all, so I called to Jayson and told him to cast up towards me. The exchange went something like this.

"Jayson! There is a nice smallmouth almost at my feet. Can you see it? He confirmed that he couldn't. Thankfully my rod was already pointing that general direction so I moved the tip just a bit. "The fish is right where I'm pointing my rod, about 5 feet out. Hurry and cast or it will move on."

Jayson started casting and dropped the fly just beyond the fish. It was cruising down the shoreline in his direction and didn't see the fly land. "Strip it hard! You need to get the fish's attention." He made a hard pull on the line and the fly made a satisfying chug while leaving a solid bubble trail. The fish immediately turned. All the while, Leah and I were watching this take place nearly at our feet.

"Okay, the fish turned. He is approaching your fly. Twitch it just barely. There! Get ready....SET!!!" You can't make this stuff up. It wasn't a huge fish by any means, but talk about a satisfying piece of teamwork. It was one of the better smallies of the day. This is why I love guiding. Spotting fish for clients and seeing them make a good cast and catching a fish is incredibly rewarding. The smiles on people's faces are better than catching the fish myself.

Leah and I continued on up the river. Eventually we all reached the highest point we wanted to fish before turning around. Here we stopped for lunch while a light shower cooled things down. About this time, something strange happened. I smelled smoke. Not a campfire, but tobacco smoke like a pipe or cigar perhaps. I knew that none of our group was smoking. Then I remembered seeing some fresh tracks on the stream banks. When I asked Mark, he said that he and Jayson had noticed the tracks as well. Apparently we had a neighbor in the vicinity. The strange part about this is that we were in a really remote area by this point. Knowing that many of these streams have a problem with pot growers, I was hesitant to go any further up the river. The last thing we needed to do was to run into a grow operation and get shot. This is always a concern when fishing these remote rivers and streams and a good reason to not go alone.

We turned around and started fishing back down the river. When we got back to the pool where Jayson caught the bass while Leah and I watched, we decided to fish again. I was in the middle of casting when Leah suddenly said, with a bit of urgency I might add, "There's a bear, THERE'S A BEAR!!!" The first bear that we have spotted here on the Plateau quickly disappeared. I know they are around and have seen bear sign, but it was really cool to have one drop out of the woods while we were fishing. Leah's day was made at this point, but one last memorable moment was yet to occur.

The streams here on the Plateau require many crossings back and forth depending on where you can safely move along the banks and around the deep holes. Right at the parking lot, we crossed back over to where our vehicles were parked and started up the bank. Suddenly I heard Jayson say "Copperhead!!!" rather loudly. Sure enough, the first copperhead of the year was underfoot and Jayson had almost nailed it. Thankfully he didn't or else he probably would have been the one getting nailed.

This trip was a perfect example of how intriguing these streams are with a healthy dose of danger mixed in for good measure. We had a good time, caught some smallmouth bass among other things, saw a bear, a snake, and had a close encounter with some mysterious person. The wildflowers were also fantastic. Fishing the smallmouth bass streams of the Cumberland Plateau never disappoint and this trip was no different. If you are looking for remote fishing, these streams offer endless possibilities to explore.

Leah's nice smallmouth... ©2018 David Knapp Photography