Wonderings

“Familiarity breeds contempt.”  You’ve probably heard this old axiom before.  Like many quotes that have been around a long time, there’s usually a lot of truth to them.  However, this one doesn’t always apply.  Take the case of “home water” for instance.  For me, familiarity with my home water only results in good things. 

Before I go on, I should probably explain my definition of home water.  I am not fortunate enough to own any property that has any fishing water, much less moving water with trout (maybe some day).  But thanks to the many miles of public trout water in our state I, like you, have access to some really great streams.  Home water doesn’t have to be yours, except in a figurative sense.  Home water is simply some place to angle that you enjoy, and have become very familiar with; you consider yourself “at home” when you are there.  It can be big water or small; it could even be just one favorite pool or run you know of on So-And-So Creek.  Of course, it helps if this place has certain characteristics:  close proximity, great scenery, productivity…..the list could go on.  Additionally, even though I have no illusion that no one but me fishes my home water, I also like a stream where I don’t need to bring my own rock to fish off of.  But it doesn’t necessarily have to be a certain way.  I’m sure other folks’ home water is very different from mine, and that’s perfectly OK.

I really enjoy exploring and fishing an area or stream that is new to me.  That’s a big part of the fun-finding new places to fish!  Sometimes you can luck up on a real gem too.  But when you go on an exploratory trip, you usually don’t know quite what to expect.  Is the stream tight or wide-open?  What flies work best there?  Can I even find it and, if so, is it posted?  Answering all these questions can make for a great adventure, and there’s nothing wrong with adventure.  But when you want to just relax and just have a great time of fishing and enjoying creation, it’s hard to beat home water.

I have two stretches on two different streams that I think of in this way.  Why two?-Because I just can’t decide between them.  Last weekend I visited one of these places, and had a great day on the water.  I know exactly how long it takes to get there, and when I do, I know just where I’ll start.  I know which particular places usually hold fish and which I can fish through quickly….or skip altogether.  (I remember, too, where that really nice, bright trout hangs out that I have yet to bring to hand.)  I know what flies and tactics have worked well for me in the past so I don’t have to carry the whole catastrophe of gear, just a small fly box and a few other sundry items that will all fit in a shirt pocket or two.  All this helps me to relax and focus on and enjoy the fishing and my surroundings.

There’s something very satisfying about home water.  If you don’t have any water that you consider home, get out there and try some different places.  It may take several visits but, sooner or later, you’ll have your own familiar place.  After all, you know what they say:  “There’s no place like home!”
Scott

Fall has long been my favorite time of year.  Along with many others, I love to see the bright colors on the trees as they begin to go dormant in preparation for winter, and to feel the crisp temperatures on a cool October morning.  But as a pursuer of trout I have another reason to love fall:  Salvelinus Fontinalis….loosely translated that’s trout of the fountain. 

Of course I’m talking about Brook Trout, or square tails, specks, natives, brookies.  Whatever you want to call them, they’re my favorite fish species bar none. There’s a myriad of reasons for this.  Wild Brook Trout (technically a species of Char, but let’s not split hairs) are the only trout that are indigenous to the Southeastern U.S.  According to scientists, they retreated to our area from colder northern climates around the time of the last ice age.  I like the fact that man had nothing to do with them being where you now still find them.  (Although big kudos go out to the TU volunteers and folks from GSMNP and NCWRC who worked many years to restore native Brook Trout to many of their traditional home waters in the Smokies!)  The Southeast has its own distinct sub-species as well, called Southern Appalachian Brook Trout…..so it’s kind of a thing we southern folks can be proud of!  I could go on, but finally I like that brookies generally live only in fairly cold and pristine water in the upper reaches of streams-above some natural barrier where introduced Brown and Rainbow trout cannot get to, and out-compete them for food.  Finding them usually involves some hiking, which luckily gets you away from most of man’s trappings into some beautiful wild places….not to mention the health benefits involved.  Naturally, you can fish for brook trout all year long, but it’s in the fall that brookies don their “Sunday best”, with colors so vivid and bright that they rival most any fish out there in the looks department.  Keith Cockerham and I recently had the good fortune to see some of those “fall colors”, and get some exercise, in pursuit of our native trout.  These images are from that trip.     

People sometimes see photos of brookies and make comments like, “What is that, bait?”  They just don’t get it.  Wild Brook Trout around here generally aren’t very big-a 10 incher in our area is so rare it would constitute a real trophy!  But if you look at their small, nutrient-poor environment you see that they’re as big as they’re supposed to be.  I have also heard other anglers describe Brook Trout as dumb or stupid, saying they’ll hit any fly you throw at them.  It’s true that brookies aren’t usually particular as to fly selection, but we’re not talking about spring creek or tailwater fish here, and those anglers don’t see them for what they are-fierce survivors that must eat anything even resembling food, just to stay alive.  Not that catching them is easy.  They’re exceptionally wary, so bring your A-Game in stalking and presentation skills if you hope to have success. 

Call them small or dumb if you like.  Brook Trout are precious jewels of the high mountain streams in our area of the country, and when it’s autumn they’re never far from my mind.
Scott

Our Prez has asked that I try posting something of a series based on my fishing excursions.  Due to the “season of life” I reluctantly find myself in, about every other Saturday is open with a choice between fishing and doing much needed chores around the house.  I think I have opted for fishing every single time.  Sometimes it’s with one or more friends-sometimes just me and my thoughts.  We’ll see how this goes, but for now we’ll call it “Wonderings”.  And, no, I didn’t misspell “wandering”.

Have you ever had one of those times when you’ve been faced with a dilemma of which activity to choose?  Sure you have!  We all have.  One recent early Fall Saturday I had just such a quandary.  I had planned to fish, but no one else was available to go and the weather forecast was looking pretty lousy.  Not just rain, but lots of it!  I imagined the streams would be blown out and my time would be wasted.  I went to bed Friday night still undecided, but leaning toward staying in to get some housework done.  Early the next morning I was wide awake, and figured I’d go ahead and get up.  I had coffee and breakfast.  I read some.  I checked the TV schedule and found nothing worth watching all day (imagine that).  I piddled around.  Then I finally decided I’d go fishing to keep from being bored and going crazy.  After all who was I kidding?  I wasn’t going to work around the house anyway.

So I threw some gear in the vehicle and headed up the mountain.  Drizzle and light rain met me as I got closer to my intended destination, and I thought, “This may be just right!”  After rigging up I got in the water about 11:30.  Immediately I started catching pretty wild fish-Browns and Bows-6 in the first run alone.  I started noticing that the rain wasn’t too heavy, then got in sort of a zone and noted that it was a pretty day, despite the rain.  The leaves had just begun changing, with a few yellow ones in and along the stream that were just slightly brighter than the yellows on the Browns.

Within a few minutes the weather went sliding downhill of course.  The rain began in earnest and pretty much continued for the rest of the time I was there.  But the fishing never slowed down, so I really didn’t care.  It was one of those days when you cast your fly to every likely looking piece of “nervous” water and, Bam!, there’s another one.  All gorgeous and wild fish willing to take my fraudulent little offering without a second thought.  I even got to fish the same dry/dropper combination for the entire time.  Nope.  I didn’t mind the rain one bit.  About three hours after I started I got to the end of my usual stretch for that area.  By now the water was pretty off-color and really rolling, easily 3-4 inches higher than when I started.  But It had been a good day.  No.  It had been a great day!  I was glad I had elected to go, as it was obviously the correct choice.  I went home satisfied and refreshed.  I even got just a little housework done after hanging all my gear to dry.

When you have one of those times when you’re faced with a dilemma, sometimes your choice is the right one…..sometimes not.  But, when it comes to fishing, “You never know ‘til you go!”
”
Fin,
Scott