Perhaps you have noticed that I haven't been posting for the past few days. I have been spending the last few days with my girlfriend and have not been doing any fishing. I do still have some warm water reports to get caught up on and will have a ton more coming later this week and next as I have guided trips, a short camping trip with my cousin, and another camping trip with my buddy Joe. In between all of the excitement, I do still have some availability if you are wanting to set up a guided trip. Next week I have Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday available if you want to get in on the excellent spring fishing that we are now experiencing. The Caney Fork is starting to give us some wading options again so if you want to learn how to fish and approach this excellent tailwater contact me to check out the trip options.
Finally, happy Mothers' Day to all the great moms out there and especially my own! Thanks for all you have done for me!!!
Featured Photo: Native Colors
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Wednesday, May 07, 2014
The Golden Ribbon
Walking around a small lake on a farm just to try and discover something that will give me an edge as a fisherman is standard practice. Thus it was not unusual when I met my friend Tyler at the lake that I asked if he wanted to head down the shoreline "at least a ways." The sun was high, the sky clear, and the fish seemed to have headed out to deeper water. Still, you never know when you might find a bass right up on the bank, and based on the boils and wakes we saw every once in a while, there were some decent ones. If only they were less spooky...
By the time we had nearly circled the lake, stared down a few menacing bulls, and incidentally chased some cows off, the sun was getting low in the western sky and panfish were beginning to rise to the midge hatch that really gets cranking near sunset each day. Here and there, the dimple of a rise form would break the surface. I had caught two fish up to this point, one small bass and one crappie, but was hoping for that evening magic to set in. Little did I know.
Just as the sun was sitting on top of the horizon, I noticed a swirl or two. The gentle breeze had ended with the setting sun and the water looked like glass. Sky and cow pasture met the water in one continuous scene as the reflections were now almost perfect. Then I saw it, nervous water.
To a bass fisherman, there may be nothing as exciting as schooling baitfish. The boils appeared slowly here and there, until I had probably six or seven good balls of baitfish in front of me with at least three within casting range. Then it happened. The nearest ball had an eruption as something attacked from below. By the size of the splash it was a large bass. Before long, bass were attacking each of the bait schools. The incredible part is that these baitfish were bluegill and crappie. Those were some big bass. Of course, this is the same pond where I saw a bass come nail a 9 inch crappie off of a bed so there are some nice fish around.
Without knowing what else to do, I just tossed the same Clouser out that I had been using the whole afternoon. My plan of attack was to cast either into or just beyond the bait balls and let the fly sink below it before beginning the retrieve. In theory, any bass cruising a little deeper would notice my fly first. And it worked.
Two quick bass in a row suggested I had picked a good technique. I started feeling just a little selfish because my buddy was still fishing a little cove that has great potential, but I knew that the action in front of me was the best we would see that evening. I whistled until I had his attention and waved him over. Back to fishing, now with a clear conscience, I caught some more.
By the time he had arrived, the bait had moved off towards deeper water, probably following the hatch. Huge midges were coming off and the bluegill were responding like it was their last meal. For some it was. By now the largest bass in the pond had moved in. Some of the explosions were so big I wondered if my 5 weight would even have a chance. Promising myself to bring the 7 weight next time, I did what I could which was to keep fishing.
As darkness approached, we finally each took that last cast and headed out. Walking through a pasture full of snakes and fresh cow pies in the dark sounds like the makings of a horror movie and we wanted enough light to make the short walk up the highway without getting hit.
That night, I lay awake going over the scenario again and again. What else could I do to hook those big bass? The next day I tied up a couple of different flies. One was a Diamond Hair Minnow that I had done well on for bass recently on another lake. The other was my PB&J but with lighter hourglass eyes. I didn't want it sinking too deep.
By the time the next evening rolled around, I was armed and ready. Bring on the big fish! I got to the small lake and everything seemed ready for a repeat performance. The only difference being that the wind didn't completely lay down this evening, but the baitfish were there chasing the midges. Larger bluegill and crappie were cruising leaving their dimpled rises around the lake. Occasionally, a boil would suggest some bass were out hunting, but where were the big ones?
Like most big fish, it appeared that this was a one shot deal. The first day was the day to catch a monster, and I had blown it. Of course, it was early and the trip could still go either way. I walked down the shoreline and spooked some nice bass. One of them was big, but it wasn't out cruising, just laying up waiting to see what developed. The slight chop made it a bit more tricky to decide where the nervous water was, but enough larger bluegill and crappie were mixed in that I could usually locate the schools by their rises.
Walking along the shore to the magic spot from the previous day, I decided if there was not a repeat performance, I could at least enjoy the evening. Everything was exactly the same as the day before except for that chop on the surface. Since the fishing wasn't as hot, I took time to look around. Right in front of me was a golden ribbon thrown down by the sun, stretching out across the lake. Absentmindedly I wondered where it might lead.
Maybe it led to fish. Not having any other theories to work off of I started casting. Once or twice I snagged some cow patties behind me, but other than that everything was going well. I made sure my casts were laying out perfectly in that golden ribbon, just in case. Then it happened. After several casts, I felt the hit and set the hook. A nice little bass with most of the emphasis on the little had eaten the PB&J. Little bass are better than no bass.
Getting back to my fishing, I noticed with dismay that my golden ribbon was almost gone. Did that mean the end of the catching?
As the sun disappeared and I prepared to navigate the cow pies in the waning light, the wind suddenly died down. Sure enough, there was very little nervous water left. Occasionally a bass would explode on something, but nothing was happening within casting range. I didn't have long to ponder that, because the sky was going through the beauty of a spring sunset. Maybe I didn't really come to catch fish after all. Glad that I had a good camera, I paused to soak it all in.
The colors faded quickly, so I had to hustle to get out before dark. The big bass are all still out there, and of course I still think about how to catch them. We probably have a few more weeks at best before the pond becomes too nasty to fish as the summer heats things up and algae blooms. I'll go back again of course. One of these days I'll probably hook a big one, finally I might add, but if not I'll be happy with finding another golden ribbon.
By the time we had nearly circled the lake, stared down a few menacing bulls, and incidentally chased some cows off, the sun was getting low in the western sky and panfish were beginning to rise to the midge hatch that really gets cranking near sunset each day. Here and there, the dimple of a rise form would break the surface. I had caught two fish up to this point, one small bass and one crappie, but was hoping for that evening magic to set in. Little did I know.
Just as the sun was sitting on top of the horizon, I noticed a swirl or two. The gentle breeze had ended with the setting sun and the water looked like glass. Sky and cow pasture met the water in one continuous scene as the reflections were now almost perfect. Then I saw it, nervous water.
To a bass fisherman, there may be nothing as exciting as schooling baitfish. The boils appeared slowly here and there, until I had probably six or seven good balls of baitfish in front of me with at least three within casting range. Then it happened. The nearest ball had an eruption as something attacked from below. By the size of the splash it was a large bass. Before long, bass were attacking each of the bait schools. The incredible part is that these baitfish were bluegill and crappie. Those were some big bass. Of course, this is the same pond where I saw a bass come nail a 9 inch crappie off of a bed so there are some nice fish around.
Without knowing what else to do, I just tossed the same Clouser out that I had been using the whole afternoon. My plan of attack was to cast either into or just beyond the bait balls and let the fly sink below it before beginning the retrieve. In theory, any bass cruising a little deeper would notice my fly first. And it worked.
Two quick bass in a row suggested I had picked a good technique. I started feeling just a little selfish because my buddy was still fishing a little cove that has great potential, but I knew that the action in front of me was the best we would see that evening. I whistled until I had his attention and waved him over. Back to fishing, now with a clear conscience, I caught some more.
By the time he had arrived, the bait had moved off towards deeper water, probably following the hatch. Huge midges were coming off and the bluegill were responding like it was their last meal. For some it was. By now the largest bass in the pond had moved in. Some of the explosions were so big I wondered if my 5 weight would even have a chance. Promising myself to bring the 7 weight next time, I did what I could which was to keep fishing.
As darkness approached, we finally each took that last cast and headed out. Walking through a pasture full of snakes and fresh cow pies in the dark sounds like the makings of a horror movie and we wanted enough light to make the short walk up the highway without getting hit.
That night, I lay awake going over the scenario again and again. What else could I do to hook those big bass? The next day I tied up a couple of different flies. One was a Diamond Hair Minnow that I had done well on for bass recently on another lake. The other was my PB&J but with lighter hourglass eyes. I didn't want it sinking too deep.
By the time the next evening rolled around, I was armed and ready. Bring on the big fish! I got to the small lake and everything seemed ready for a repeat performance. The only difference being that the wind didn't completely lay down this evening, but the baitfish were there chasing the midges. Larger bluegill and crappie were cruising leaving their dimpled rises around the lake. Occasionally, a boil would suggest some bass were out hunting, but where were the big ones?
Like most big fish, it appeared that this was a one shot deal. The first day was the day to catch a monster, and I had blown it. Of course, it was early and the trip could still go either way. I walked down the shoreline and spooked some nice bass. One of them was big, but it wasn't out cruising, just laying up waiting to see what developed. The slight chop made it a bit more tricky to decide where the nervous water was, but enough larger bluegill and crappie were mixed in that I could usually locate the schools by their rises.
Walking along the shore to the magic spot from the previous day, I decided if there was not a repeat performance, I could at least enjoy the evening. Everything was exactly the same as the day before except for that chop on the surface. Since the fishing wasn't as hot, I took time to look around. Right in front of me was a golden ribbon thrown down by the sun, stretching out across the lake. Absentmindedly I wondered where it might lead.
Maybe it led to fish. Not having any other theories to work off of I started casting. Once or twice I snagged some cow patties behind me, but other than that everything was going well. I made sure my casts were laying out perfectly in that golden ribbon, just in case. Then it happened. After several casts, I felt the hit and set the hook. A nice little bass with most of the emphasis on the little had eaten the PB&J. Little bass are better than no bass.
Getting back to my fishing, I noticed with dismay that my golden ribbon was almost gone. Did that mean the end of the catching?
As the sun disappeared and I prepared to navigate the cow pies in the waning light, the wind suddenly died down. Sure enough, there was very little nervous water left. Occasionally a bass would explode on something, but nothing was happening within casting range. I didn't have long to ponder that, because the sky was going through the beauty of a spring sunset. Maybe I didn't really come to catch fish after all. Glad that I had a good camera, I paused to soak it all in.
The colors faded quickly, so I had to hustle to get out before dark. The big bass are all still out there, and of course I still think about how to catch them. We probably have a few more weeks at best before the pond becomes too nasty to fish as the summer heats things up and algae blooms. I'll go back again of course. One of these days I'll probably hook a big one, finally I might add, but if not I'll be happy with finding another golden ribbon.
Monday, May 05, 2014
Tying an Easy Yellow Sally
This is the first of what I hope will be quite a few video projects showing patterns that I tie. Some are my own while most are existing patterns or my adaption of existing patterns. For the first one I chose to demonstrate one of the easiest Yellow Sally patterns I know of. This time of year sees the first hatches starting in the Smokies and as the summer goes on, this little insect will be important on many waters across the country. Try it out, but even better, once you've tried it start experimenting. There are some great variations that can be done with this simple pattern.
A Well Spent Sunday
A couple of months ago, my friend David Perry contacted me about helping out with a great cause, Casting for Recovery (CFR). Put on locally by the Music City Fly Girls, CFR is an opportunity for breast cancer survivors to try out the sport of fly fishing while enjoying a relaxing weekend retreat with others who have experienced breast cancer. The last day of the event was the on the water day where each of the ladies would be paired with a guide and given the chance to hopefully catch some fish.
Fast forward to yesterday, and I found myself getting up at an unearthly hour to make the drive over to the Duck River below Normandy Dam. The drive over was mostly uneventful other than the random cop that decided to come out of nowhere and terrorize me for a minute or so by riding my bumper in McMinnville. After my heart rate came back down to normal and he had pulled off somewhere, I was back to the races, trying to make it to the event site by 8:00 a.m. At least I would have had a good excuse for speeding if he had pulled me over.
Once I arrived, I was surprised to find out how small this tailwater is. I'm not sure what I was expecting but this is a small stream compared to other tailwaters I fish. Small is good though when it comes to putting people on fish who are new to the sport. Trout were rising to a healthy caddis hatch and the occasional Light Cahill and even a Sulfur or two. We had a delicious breakfast prepared by the Music City Fly Girls and got a nice CFR hat.
Eventually the ladies showed up and we headed down to the stream to fish. The lady I was assigned to was pleasant and we quickly hit it off. Once we got on the water, we covered some basic casting to reinforce what she had learned the previous day and then started working one of my favorite patterns for stocked rainbows through a good looking run. Only a couple of casts later, she hooked her first fish! Okay, so it was just a chub of some sort, but we were still glad to see a fish. Not long after, we started catching trout, and missing trout, and catching some more trout.
She did a great job and finished the morning with close to 10 trout. Not bad for a first timer on the fly rod!
After the fishing excursion, we headed in for lunch and a short program. There, the lady I had been working with was the lucky recipient of a CFR fly rod and reel combo! The day couldn't get much better, and by the time I headed home, I was tired, but also happy to have been a part of this great event. Special thanks go out to David Perry for inviting me to help and the Music City Fly Girls for putting on such a fantastic weekend!!!
Fast forward to yesterday, and I found myself getting up at an unearthly hour to make the drive over to the Duck River below Normandy Dam. The drive over was mostly uneventful other than the random cop that decided to come out of nowhere and terrorize me for a minute or so by riding my bumper in McMinnville. After my heart rate came back down to normal and he had pulled off somewhere, I was back to the races, trying to make it to the event site by 8:00 a.m. At least I would have had a good excuse for speeding if he had pulled me over.
Once I arrived, I was surprised to find out how small this tailwater is. I'm not sure what I was expecting but this is a small stream compared to other tailwaters I fish. Small is good though when it comes to putting people on fish who are new to the sport. Trout were rising to a healthy caddis hatch and the occasional Light Cahill and even a Sulfur or two. We had a delicious breakfast prepared by the Music City Fly Girls and got a nice CFR hat.
Eventually the ladies showed up and we headed down to the stream to fish. The lady I was assigned to was pleasant and we quickly hit it off. Once we got on the water, we covered some basic casting to reinforce what she had learned the previous day and then started working one of my favorite patterns for stocked rainbows through a good looking run. Only a couple of casts later, she hooked her first fish! Okay, so it was just a chub of some sort, but we were still glad to see a fish. Not long after, we started catching trout, and missing trout, and catching some more trout.
Photo by David Perry of Southeastern Fly
She did a great job and finished the morning with close to 10 trout. Not bad for a first timer on the fly rod!
After the fishing excursion, we headed in for lunch and a short program. There, the lady I had been working with was the lucky recipient of a CFR fly rod and reel combo! The day couldn't get much better, and by the time I headed home, I was tired, but also happy to have been a part of this great event. Special thanks go out to David Perry for inviting me to help and the Music City Fly Girls for putting on such a fantastic weekend!!!
Saturday, May 03, 2014
Availability
The spring fishing is finally settling into a predictable pattern and this next week is looking perfect. Trout are active and looking up for a good number of their meals although fishing subsurface will sometimes be best for overall numbers. May is the one month of the year where anglers will likely catch more fish on dries than on nymphs. In fact, my best day on Little River ever was in May, and I caught all my fish on dries.
If you are visiting in the area and would like to set up a day to get out on the water, I still have a couple of days available this week, specifically Monday and Tuesday. Please head over to Trout Zone Anglers or email me if you want to set up a trip. If you are willing to hike, the Smoky Mountain backcountry is at its best right now. An easy 3-4 mile hike (easy meaning no major elevation gains/losses) can put us on lots of willing fish or if you want to hit up some brookie streams we can do that as well.
If you are visiting in the area and would like to set up a day to get out on the water, I still have a couple of days available this week, specifically Monday and Tuesday. Please head over to Trout Zone Anglers or email me if you want to set up a trip. If you are willing to hike, the Smoky Mountain backcountry is at its best right now. An easy 3-4 mile hike (easy meaning no major elevation gains/losses) can put us on lots of willing fish or if you want to hit up some brookie streams we can do that as well.
Thursday, May 01, 2014
Last Chance
Being a tailwater fisherman can be a roller coaster from joy to disappointment and back again. Hours are spent poring over forecast rain amounts, then analyzing actual rainfall totals during and after a precipitation event. If you live out west then you might spend your winters checking out the latest Snotel information to see how the snowpack is coming along. Long term generation guidance is also consulted on a regular basis, all in an effort to figure out when your favorite tailwater might be fishable. Of course, in a dry year, all of this becomes unnecessary as anglers enjoy the rare opportunity to fish whenever and wherever they desire.
Over the past few weeks, I've been checking the generation schedules daily, sometimes even multiple times a day. I guess I'm just optimistic. Maybe the schedule will change for the better, and of course, eventually it did. Unfortunately, the theme this year is that low flows signal the next round of heavy rain. Streams here on the Plateau shot up from around 500 cubic feet per second (cfs) to over 15,000 cfs over the last few days. One stream went from 70 cfs to over 3,500 cfs. That's a lot of water no matter where you live, and when you consider that 3,500 cfs is approximately the amount of water that one generator releases at a time on my favorite tailwater, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that many days of generation are on the horizon. All that water here on the Plateau eventually drains into the valleys on either side and into either Tennessee Valley Authority or Corps of Engineers controlled dam systems.
As the major weather system this week started to really get cranking, my nearest tailwater finally cut back on the generation. I planned to fish Monday morning, but early day storms were already rolling in and prompting the first local tornado warning of the year. My fishing trip became a storm chasing trip, and I was stuck waiting for the next opportunity. Tuesday morning was shot as well, and Wednesday was the last day of low flows, my last chance to get on the water.
My friend Tyler, who has quickly become addicted to fly fishing, had never fished a tailwater before. I explained that the water would be cold but that people had been known to wet wade there before. He was all for it so we planned on when and where to meet. Wednesday morning couldn't come soon enough for me, and before long I had scarfed down a quick breakfast, made a sandwich, loaded my gear, and headed out the door. Tyler was on time and we were soon headed for the river.
Muddy water...
Upon arriving, I headed straight for a favorite run that requires less wading than some spots. After all, I knew Tyler was excited but if he didn't have to freeze then all the better. Driving along the river, the first thing we noticed was mud thick enough to walk all the way across the river on. On second glance, we realized it wasn't quite that bad but we definitely weren't going to fish in the slop. Back up the river we headed to the clear water just below the dam. Several other anglers were already crowded in the best spots (for easy wading that is), and I was concerned that Tyler was going to be stuck getting soaked and cold.
One possibility remained and we headed down to a favorite spot of mine. Another angler was fishing just upstream but otherwise we had the water to ourselves. Showing Tyler a rising trout and explaining the process of mending and fly placement, I started downstream to get some fishing of my own in. Just as I was getting my own rod ready to cast, Tyler yelled as he hooked the first trout of the day. It turned out to be his first brown trout so I brought the net and camera for a quick picture. As I made my way back down the river he hooked another, and another, and so on and so forth. In fact, he soon lost track of how many he had caught.
I found a nice hole and started catching a few of my own, and then more, until I was catching fish after fish as well. Over the next two hours, we never ventured far. Tyler didn't have to wade deeply to fish, and I was having some of the best midge fishing I've had in a long time. Both of us quickly lost count of how many fish we caught and even had several doubles as the fish were almost racing each other to get to our flies.
Now that tailwater is pushing a lot of water down the river as the lake continues to rise. We'll be lucky if it is fishable anytime in the next two weeks and if we get more rain it will take a lot longer than that. A more realistic prediction is a minimum of 3 weeks but we'll have to wait and see what happens. When it does drop again, I'll be back looking for another fantastic day on the water.
Oh, and I should mention that Tyler forgot to be cold. He was catching so many fish he didn't even notice the 50 degree water flowing around his legs. His comment to me was, "Knapp, you've created a monster!" Yep, tailwaters can be fun, and I'll look forward to getting on one again. Hopefully it will be sooner instead of later...
On our way home, we stopped to chase some bass, and I had my best bass day on this particular lake ever, but more on that a bit later.
Monday, April 28, 2014
Scouting
As we move closer to summer, our warm water streams here on the Cumberland Plateau are beginning to wake up. On Sunday afternoon, I headed out with a friend to check a new spot off the list. Most of these streams on the Plateau are remote and often much more rugged than anything I've ever encountered in the Smokies. The hike in can often be brutal, but if you put in your time and do your homework, there are places with better access that can be found. In fact, we never fished more than 1/3 of a mile from the car.
The best water is usually much tougher to get to though so I'm planning a return trip that will involve a bit more hiking. While these streams are full of small bass and sunfish, some nicer fish can be found as well as evidenced by this nice smallmouth I found.
Fishing was still a bit slow and will heat up over the next 3 weeks as waters warm and flows drop. By June, things should be moving right along and will continue to be good through September most likely. By late in the season, the fish in these streams are spooky as flows drop to a fraction of what they are now. Long clear pools interspersed with gentle riffles and pockets make long casts a necessity as well as smaller flies.
But now, for the next few weeks at least, I'll be out there tossing larger flies like my PB&J streamer. Bright colors worked best and the PB&J in Firetiger got the most looks. Soon they'll be taking bugs on top as well. The smaller fish were working the hatching Hendricksons pretty well, but soon we'll be tossing Stealth Bombers, Wiggle Minnows, and hopper patterns at the bass and panfish. If you live in the area, Plateau streams and creeks are a worthy target in lieu of driving somewhere further to trout fish.
The best water is usually much tougher to get to though so I'm planning a return trip that will involve a bit more hiking. While these streams are full of small bass and sunfish, some nicer fish can be found as well as evidenced by this nice smallmouth I found.
Photograph by Seth Arnold
Fishing was still a bit slow and will heat up over the next 3 weeks as waters warm and flows drop. By June, things should be moving right along and will continue to be good through September most likely. By late in the season, the fish in these streams are spooky as flows drop to a fraction of what they are now. Long clear pools interspersed with gentle riffles and pockets make long casts a necessity as well as smaller flies.
But now, for the next few weeks at least, I'll be out there tossing larger flies like my PB&J streamer. Bright colors worked best and the PB&J in Firetiger got the most looks. Soon they'll be taking bugs on top as well. The smaller fish were working the hatching Hendricksons pretty well, but soon we'll be tossing Stealth Bombers, Wiggle Minnows, and hopper patterns at the bass and panfish. If you live in the area, Plateau streams and creeks are a worthy target in lieu of driving somewhere further to trout fish.
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Drifting with Friends
One of the best things about the sport of fly fishing is all of the great people you meet. From fly shops across the country, to stream side chats, I've met some of the nicest and most generous people. Meeting for a float is about as fun as it gets so when my friend Breck checked in about a possible Caney Fork float, I was all in.
He was wanting to see the Caney since he hadn't fished it yet and was bringing his boat. The generation schedule called for high water so it would be a day of throwing streamers the whole way. I tied up a few more flies the night before and got up early for a start at daybreak.
Once he arrived, we dropped my car for the shuttle later and headed on up the river. Breck is a streamer fanatic and with good reason I might add. He has caught some huge browns on rivers like the Clinch while drifting and knows what it takes to have a good day on the water. His boat boxes were full of monstrosities designed to turn the largest fish in the river.
It didn't take long to get the first fish of the day as well as some drive by action that resulted in the usual exclamation of "Did you see that?!?!?" The skipjack are up in the river right now but not in the size that I'm accustomed to from the Chickamauga tailwater in Chattanooga where 18 and 20 inch skipjack are normal. Once we started drifting, the early cold started to wear off as the sun rose higher. Fish started to flash with some regularity and Breck came up with the first rainbow and brown of the day.
I love rowing and stayed with it for a while even after Breck offered to take a turn, but eventually the pull of throwing big flies was too strong, and I finally agreed to take a turn with the fly rod. We covered a lot of water, pounding the banks as well as trying to work over deep water in the middle near shoals and structure. Fish came from a lot of different places with most of mine coming off of banks and Breck's coming from out in the middle.
It wasn't until we were near or past the halfway point that Breck got excited. I looked and saw a dark shape swirling before hammering the streamer. Unfortunately luck was not on our side as the hook pulled from the big brown's mouth and we were both left plotting how to return again for another try some day. Finally, as we came into the homestretch, Breck offered to switch again, and I was back on the fly rod. Flashes and swipes became more common and soon I had my own fish as well.
When I offered to row again so Breck could fish, he told me to keep fishing. See what I mean about generous? I didn't argue too long and kept at it strong until the takeout. We had a great trip even if we didn't get that big fish. Thanks again Breck for a great day out on the water!
You can see Breck's report on our trip on the Little River Outfitters message board here.
He was wanting to see the Caney since he hadn't fished it yet and was bringing his boat. The generation schedule called for high water so it would be a day of throwing streamers the whole way. I tied up a few more flies the night before and got up early for a start at daybreak.
Once he arrived, we dropped my car for the shuttle later and headed on up the river. Breck is a streamer fanatic and with good reason I might add. He has caught some huge browns on rivers like the Clinch while drifting and knows what it takes to have a good day on the water. His boat boxes were full of monstrosities designed to turn the largest fish in the river.
It didn't take long to get the first fish of the day as well as some drive by action that resulted in the usual exclamation of "Did you see that?!?!?" The skipjack are up in the river right now but not in the size that I'm accustomed to from the Chickamauga tailwater in Chattanooga where 18 and 20 inch skipjack are normal. Once we started drifting, the early cold started to wear off as the sun rose higher. Fish started to flash with some regularity and Breck came up with the first rainbow and brown of the day.
I love rowing and stayed with it for a while even after Breck offered to take a turn, but eventually the pull of throwing big flies was too strong, and I finally agreed to take a turn with the fly rod. We covered a lot of water, pounding the banks as well as trying to work over deep water in the middle near shoals and structure. Fish came from a lot of different places with most of mine coming off of banks and Breck's coming from out in the middle.
It wasn't until we were near or past the halfway point that Breck got excited. I looked and saw a dark shape swirling before hammering the streamer. Unfortunately luck was not on our side as the hook pulled from the big brown's mouth and we were both left plotting how to return again for another try some day. Finally, as we came into the homestretch, Breck offered to switch again, and I was back on the fly rod. Flashes and swipes became more common and soon I had my own fish as well.
When I offered to row again so Breck could fish, he told me to keep fishing. See what I mean about generous? I didn't argue too long and kept at it strong until the takeout. We had a great trip even if we didn't get that big fish. Thanks again Breck for a great day out on the water!
You can see Breck's report on our trip on the Little River Outfitters message board here.
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