Trip to the Little River

They say, “Expectation is the death of gratitude” and I guess I came to understand that a little this week. All week long I looked forward to my fishing trip this on Friday. Every day I got out of bed and went to work thinking about fishing in the Great Smokey Mountain National Park on Friday. While I worked out in the hot sun with the temperature pushing 100 degrees, I could almost imagine myself standing along the bank of one of those cool mountain streams catching fish.
Thursday, though, brought concern that I may not get to stand along one of those mountain streams after all. All the heat and humidity had caused storms to boil up almost every evening this week. Thursday was no different. Blount County, the county between where I live and the park, was hit with a severe thunder storm that evening. This storm was packed with heavy lighting, hail, and high winds. There were even some reports of flooding in some areas.
As I sat at home and looked off to the south, watching this massive thunderhead gully wash the neighboring county, all I could do was think that those peaceful streams were going to be turned in to roaring rivers. I just knew my long awaited fishing trip was going to be shot! Now I had to decide what to do: (1) go ahead as planed or (2) find some where else to fish. After checking the release schedule for the two closest TVA tail waters and a couple of remote weather stations near the park, I opted to go ahead as planed.
I won’t go into all the details of the next twelve or so hours other than to say I was excited. Just the thought of fishing for wild trout in a mountain stream, very much like what I grew up on in south west Virginia, kept me up until midnight. I could see myself casting out into one of those small pools and easily hooking up with a wild trout. I could smell that damp air coming off of that mountain stream. The thought of possibly no other anglers on the stream or at least in line of sight kept my mind reeling. The only problem with sleep deprivation from excitement is it can cause you to over sleep the next morning.
So as usual I, or should I say we, got going late. My wife reasoned that because it was a tax free school shopping weekend and I was going to be driving by the shopping mall anyway, I could just drop her and the kids off on my way. Seeing that she is my wife and I love her very much and that my old truck doesn’t get that great of fuel mileage, I yielded and we loaded the family car up and we headed for Sevierville. By the time I got her dropped off and made a quick stop at the fly shop, I was able to make it into the park by 9:45.
I did one thing out of the ordinary on this trip to the park today. No, it wasn’t fishing while my wife shopped, or leaving later than planed. Today I left my fly vest at home and it wasn’t an accident either. I had just finished reading a book by John Gierach on fly fishing small streams. Actually that’s the title of the book, Fly Fishing Small Streams. In his book he talks about carrying only what you need to catch fish. I also heard an interview with a fly fishing instructor who talked about thinking like a predator. He said in order to be a good predator you must blend in with your surroundings. One tip he gave was to lose the vest and take on a chest pack. So I dumped the vest, put on a pair of green cargo short, and stuffed my pockets with only what I needed.
Needless to say I had some decisions to make before I left the car. What is essential? When I left my car, at the foot of the Little River Trail, all I had with me was my fly rod, fly box, forceps, split shot, polarized sunglasses, and a spool of tippet. After I was on the water for about an hour the phrase, “I wish I had” came out of my mouth at least twice. Over all, though, I would say it was pretty liberating.
I hiked about a half a mile up the Little River Trail before I started fishing. I started at a nice sized pool with a #16 black foam ant. Instantly, the fish I had cast to come right up to it looked it over and went right back to the rock he had been behind on the bottom. I let the fly drift toward the back of the pool and two smaller trout did the exact same thing. I cast it to them a couple more times and they done the same thing again. I decided to move on to another pool and try again. I got the same exact response.
So, I changed the fly. Same thing again, they looked the fly over and refused it. Over and over all day long almost every fish looked over my fly and wouldn’t even taste it. I did say almost every fish; I had a couple of good hits on a Greeny Weenie. I also had a really nice trout, 12 + inches, take a swing at my foam ant early on in the day, which was exciting! The fish were willing to eat; they just didn’t want what I had to offer.
More than likely, I could have caught some fish if I had only known that it was legal to use a dropper rig in the park. It wasn’t until I was on my way out that I ran into a guide who told me they were catching them on a two nymph setup. If I had only known! I wasn’t sure and didn’t want to take a chance. Oh well, there’s always next time.
Although the trip wasn't what I had expected, it was still fun. My wife even asked me this evening if I had enjoyed myself. My immediate response was, "Absolutely! I'm already thinking about next time!"