I just arrived back from my first trip into the Smokies for a couple days of backpacking and fishing. Our destination was well known but very difficult to reach. After planning and packing enough food and gear for 3 days of camping we took off in the wee hours of Friday morning. Little did I know the drive would take less time than the hike. Our target was as usual, native brook trout with the chance at a trophy. The weather man was predicting near perfect conditions and for once he was correct.
So, after the long and difficult 1500 ft climb to the top and the 1000 ft decent off the back, we reached campsite at about mid morning, set up camp, took a short rest and off we went. Literally within site of my tent and on the first cast my first smoky mountain brook trout was in hand. This stream was beyond triple the size of your typical brook trout stream. I'm more accustomed to catching brook trout in streams not much larger than a flippin rain puddle and this one was more like cramming the Atlantic into a large funnel.
From then on out the fishing was actually a little slow and difficult. The brooks seemed lazy with their takes and numerous missed strikes. In most situations this may call for a smaller fly, but the fast and turblent water would have made it impossible to locate any fly smaller than an airplane. Now, what rainbows we could locate were more than eager to jump on our offerings. What was most interesting was the small "clicks" of rainbows we would locate. When one would strike you could release him down stream, catch another, and repeat. One fast run produced 4 rainbows within 5 minutes...all of good size.
With about 4-5 hours of fishing on the first day we easily landed a couple dozen and made our way back to camp to rest our worn legs and shoulders. On our first night a lonely hiker had joined us. He had traveled nearly 14 miles before stopping to set up camp. His name was Tim and once I realized he was wearing a Barney Fife t-shirt I knew he was an OK guy. We did the usual and shot the bull and gained tons of info from his extensive smokies hiking career and hit the hay early.
Up at daylight we hiked another mile to a feeder stream that was about half the size as the previous (which is more like a typical mountain trout stream). Saturday's success was unreal. I always fish a dropper combo from the start but no matter what the dropper offered the dry fly was taken 9 out of 10 times. The nymph only served to foul hook a few where I missed the strike of the dry fly. By the end of the day we landed more than we remembered to count with quite a few in the 7"-9" range. We had sincerely hoped for a 12 incher but never did get so lucky.
By Sunday we were taxed and knew the hike out would be easier than the hike in, but nonetheless we were ready to get the burn over with so we packed up and made the trek home. I will say this area is one of the true existance of God as no idiot with the ability of trained thought could imagine this creation by anything less powerful than the Almighty. The main stream was very intimidating and one that demanded respect or it would take it from you. Boulders the size of buses and pools large enough to swallow an elephant. It's clear to understand how many trout call it home as the river is massive for brook trout standards. I would go back in a heartbeat and hope so one day as I hope to share it with my son as he gets old enough to carry dad's 40 pound pack.
