South Holston River Float

South Holston River

I got a call on Thursday morning from my friend John, and when I finally listened to the message early Thursday afternoon, it was an invitation to stay at the Watauga River Lodge Thursday night and float the river the next day.  For free.  Check your voice mail folks, you never know what you might be missing.  Low and behold, the stars aligned, and my calendar allowed me to skip a meeting on Friday and make it work. After helping feed the kids, rubber meet asphalt and I was headed east towards Johnson City, Tennessee (insert Old Crow Medicine Show tune here) with visions of drift boats and brood browns in my head.



Upon arrival at the lodge I moseyed over to the fire ring, got a jolly greeting from John Barker (a.k.a Smokey and the Bandit), met some new folks, and enjoyed the fall chill in the air with a Sweetwater Pale and sea salt and pepper kettle chips. After swapping some stories, we hit the hay at the lodge. Good pillows and good toilet paper.  I think that covers the bases to let you know Brownie Liles of the Watauga River Lodge isn't trying to cut corners. Great, great place.



We hit up a down-home-greasy-spoon-dive-of-an-East-Tennessee-diner for breakfast, then met our guides for the day, Ollie Smith and Evan Dowdy, around 8 am. Both Ollie and Evan own their own guide services, but are contracted out by Brownie when they are available and Brownie has more clients than his full time staff can handle. Ollie actually taught me to tie flies back in 1998 while I was at Appalachian State University, and I have kept up with him a bit through story and legend since, so it was great to see him.  As the guides met their four fisherman for the day, they suggested we hit the S. Holston instead of the Watauga. I grew even giddier at this suggestion! The S. Holston is the "dream stream" of TN.  6,000 fish per mile. My new acquaintance Dave and I hopped in Evan's ride, and John and Mark hopped in Ollie's rig and we were off to the put-in at the weir damn.

Put in on North side of the river. One on South bank too.

 I had never fished out of a drift boat, and I was itching to get on the freakin' water. #Stoked. When we arrived at the put in, it was a bit of a circus.  I don't know, I guess about A MILLION boats and trailers were there. Seriously, I would assume 15-20 drifts boats launched from the weir dam that morning. Rivers that are congested are usually congested for a reason.

Evan rigged us up in the parking lot, dropped his Hyde drift boat in the gin clear cold waters, and we were dead drifting 3 nymphs under an indicator before you could say tungsten bead head.  A bunch of boats were anchored up near the put-in, presumably trying to put clients on the less savvy stocked rainbows, but we drifted quickly below the barrage of boats because we were floating the entire 7 miles of tailwater and were more interested in the wild browns than crowds. 15 minutes in, Dave was hooked into a 18" rainbow that spit the hook after a decent fight. 20 minutes in, I boated our first fish, a feisty 10 inch stocker bow.

another drift boat in the passing lane

The fishing was never hot. We picked up a fish every 20 or 30 minutes on average. After 7 hours on the water we boated about 20 fish between Dave and I.  Dave, the engineer out fished me.  Freakin' engineer brains gave him the edge. I bet I landed 7 or 8 of our 20ish fish. Evan worked hard on the oars, changing flies, eyeing indicators with us, and untangling my embarrassing triple nymph bird's nests. My pride would like to blame my tangles on longer cast than usual with a bigger indicator than usual.  Casting 3 flies at a time is always a little tricky, but I looked like a rookie at times.  Evan was patient and servant hearted all day long though.

typical 12" wild brown from the bowels of the SoHo

I didn't take many fish pics. I kept waiting for that picture worthy fish. My biggest was a 14 inch brown.  You could tell that everyone out was really having to work for their fish and the it was a tough bite that day. We saw a random sulpher or two, got into some Blue Winged Olive spinners a few times, and a few BWO duns near the end of the day.  I saw some big ol' browns in that crystal clear 45 degree water. We mostly blind casted towards grass lines, seams, and other feeding lanes, dead drifting our nymph riggs. The underwater grass was vibrant green and beautiful. We picked up the majority of our fish on scud imitations. Evan commented that they were taking the flies with reservation instead of nailing them, and often fish would come unbuttoned in the water or as soon as they were in the net.  A steady eye and quick hook set were the fisherman's friend. Evan's watchful eye helped me hook into a number of strikes I would have missed otherwise.

Valet parking at our lunch spot

Maybe the biggest surprise of the day was lunch. It was top shelf stuff. Evan and Ollie set up tables on an island and broke out fried chicken, pimento cheese, crisp apples, home made "Bossy Sauce" fruit dip, pickled okra, assorted cheeses, pepperoni, summer sausage, chips, and water.  Ollie had also closely protected some thin, crispy-chewy, caramelized oatmeal raisin cookies that tasted double good with bossy sauce. I've been promised a "great lunch" stream-side before, but this was truly great.  After a slow morning of fishing, the good eats and soft chair literally put fuel in my tank and lifted my spirits.  If you ever need a guide for East Tennessee, I highly recommend Evan, Ollie, or booking through Watauge River Lodge. We got Grade A performance and professionalism during a day when the bite was never really on.



The day ended much like it started.  When you only get a bite every 10 or fifteen minutes and your blind casting, it gets easy to get sloppy, loose focus, and miss strikes during conditions where strikes are too precious to screw up.  Close to the take out I had a heavy strike, solid hook set, and a bend deep in my rod.  Seconds later a fat 16-18 inch female brown exploded a foot above the water's surface, head shaking, and successfully spitting the hook. I was grateful to at least feel one of the browns the SoHo is known for, even if only for a moment.  Then much like the circus at the put in, we watched a hilarious, yet painfully long process, of a pontoon boat trying to trailer at the take out. After chuckling and repeatedly looking at our watches for 15 minutes, the bottom of the drift boat touched the concrete of the boat ramp, and the return to North Carolina began. To steal a Clooney quote from Oh Brother Where Art Thou, I feel like one float on the SoHo will only "arouse my appetite without fully bedding it back down again."



Big shout-out to John Barker for always caring for me, and making this day happen. You da man. 10-4, over-and-out good buddy.

My boy Mills celebrated his first birthday the following day. This is his brown trout cake I decorated, in honor of one of my favorite streams and his name's sake, the Mills River.

North Carolina's State Game Fish - Red Fish

redfish left to rot in a NC gill net

Redfish, puppy drum, red drum, and spot tails are all the same creature. The Red Drum is the state game fish of NC, and dang are they fun to catch on the fly.  Gill netting in still practiced in NC, and some people are fighting to get it stopped.  Read this article on Captain Gordan's Blog, Redfish Rendezvous to get a better idea of the implications of gill netting.

Costa Del Mar Fisch 580 Revies

About 3 years ago I was fishing with my buddy Ryan. He often has the latest, more expensive gear.  He let me try on his Costas with the 580 lenses.  My jaw dropped.  Looking into a popular slick on the Davidson River, the water seemed to disappear and the trout seemed to be hovering above the seemingly waterless river bottom.  I was sold.  However, when I looked up the prices on the 580 lenses, and realized they were all well above $200, I chuckled and kissed the idea of the magic glasses goodbye.

Around christmas that same year, I suggested I wanted some Costas to my wife.  I had tried a few pair on, and really liked the way the Fisch frames fit my head. While looking on EBay for the less expensive lenses, we stumbled upon a new pair a Fische 580 silver mirrored sun glasses and scored them for about $120.  That was about $140 LESS than retail.  Merry Christmas to me.

Since, I have really loved my glasses, and their performance is top shelf. When I was without them for a couple of weeks, sight fishing for carp with out them seemed impossible with out them.  They really give you x-ray vision into the water.  Here is a quick list of pros and cons.

Pros:
-THE BEST polarized lens out there
-Silver mirrored lenses are recommended for fresh water fishing
-Very sturdy frames
-Rubber grips on frame keep glasses very secure above your years
-Great case to store them in

Cons:
-The rubber on the bottom started separating but Costa fixed it for free
-If there isn't a breeze (like in the woods fly fishing in NC) the lenses can fog up on hot humid days here in the NC mountains.  If I slip the glasses down my nose a fraction of in inch, they clear up.
- I stepped on them one day and it cost $100 to replace the broken lens.

I hope this helps if you are thinking about buying a pair.  I am convinced that the 580 lens is the best fishing lens out there.  Worth $260? Thats up to you to decide.

Red Spread

Deserted old flat bed in a North Carolina marsh flat

Last Wednesday I was netting the 18 inch rainbow in Western North Carolina after one of the best fights I've encountered with a trout.  This week, I really understood what kind of power a fish can put out while landing my first redfish on a fly on the other end of our great state.  North Carolina is truly unbelievable.

Red Fish pull. Period. After at least 7 short outings in Charleston, I was surprised to land my first red on a North Carolina marsh flat where no one in the area seemed to talk about fishing flats, much less know anyone who fly fished. Essentially, most of this experienced played out far different than I ever imagined, while other parts where spot on.  I knew I had two limited chances to chase reds on our family vacation, and my first outing was mostly wandering through the marsh trying to figure out where to concentrate my efforts.  It turned out to be super windy at this 5.0 high tide, and when a found a tailing red, I blew two cast in the wind, had two decent casts, then had a third cast wrap around spartina grass right on top of the tailer. Fail.

The following day seemed to be to much of a Drake article set up to expect to catch a fish. A last-chance-for-who-knows-how-long kind of scenario.  Here is a list of ways it went different than I had invisioned while day dreaming about red fish.

1. Red fish fight way harder then any one has ever told me.  Way harder. Stinkin' awesome.

2. I was convinced all the waked and fin tips I was seeing on this day were mullet, and didn't even cast at them until this guy ate my fly. The fins looked gray, not orange.  I think the cloud cover kept the fins from lighting up "red."Later I realized all the "mullet" I let swim through the trough I was watching were all decent sized reds.

3. I didn't see a single tailing fish. Saw some fins pushing through the shallow trough to get into the flat, but no tailors.

4. I lead a wake with a good fly, and strip directly back to me when I got the eat.

5. I don't even remember thinking about the hook set. I just happened.

6. If it took me four minutes to land the fish, than three minutes and 50 seconds were spent wondering if it was a red fish.  Some one had told me bonnet sharks can get in the flat and chase bait, and I was thinking it was probably a bonnet. When it was at my feet, I finally realized I had caught a good red fish.

7. I didn't get any epic pics of my first red fish. Standing knee deep in a marsh, no dry land near by, with an i-phone, fish, and fly rod in hand is the equivalent of texting and flossing while driving a stick shift; it's awkward and you need another arm or two.

thought i had the whole fish in the frame

Beautiful spot tail (way out of focus)

Some other things went as hoped, invisioned, and planned.

1. My cyber scouting with google maps was great. FOund access and flats from satellites.

2. I had always wanted to take my first red on a more traditional pattern, and not a spoon fly. After some calls, I decided to go with a copper head variant. Got 'em.

3.  The tide was supposed to be around 5.5 on this day, which should lead to more fish in the flat, and it did. They cam piling through about 45 minutes before high tide (i just thought they were big mullet).

4. Without the wind from the day before, I was able to watch for wakes in the smooth water much better, and here crashing and splashing in the spartina grass far easier.

5.  I caught one in the bottom of the 9th. Thats how it happens in the story books, and thats how it happened this time.  It had been 2 years since my last shot, and I hoped that would have been a walk off home run situation.  But I left empty handed after four attempts int he Charleston marsh.

I think my carp fishing earlier this summer helped with my presentation for reds, but red fight way harder than carp. The tug is the drug, and reds pull hard and fast. I walked out of the spartina that day a little early. There was an impending storm, but even with the chance of catching more, my first red had me walking light and grinnin' like a fool.

sunset over the inter coastal waterway

Summer Trout, Summer Not.

On the second annual classic trails-to-trout trip. Matt Sloan and I were equally unsuccessful at "slayin' 'em."  Late last July we ventured into the bowels of Pisgah Forrest to find unpressured trout heaven. We wound up with a great memory, good times by a camp fire, and a few puny trout. Late July and August may be one of the toughest times to trout fish in the south, even above 3,000 feet in elevation.  Low, warm water inevitably leads to stressed, spooky fish. With all the rain this summer, water levels are up and water temps are down.  I hoped our late July trip would fish more like early June.

We didn't venture as far off the beaten path this time, but the conditions seemed perfect.  Good flows, water temps below 60, and we never saw another fisherman on the river or walking by our campsite.  Results... dink city.  We caught a few tiny rainbows.  I hooked and didn't land one MONSTER of a 12 incher.  He did have a super wide red strip on his side though.  Beautiful.

I've officially blamed the poor fishing on the full moon.  "Dem fishes had full bellies from the nocturnal night light of Mr. MoonFace and the Stone Fly Buffet," I told myself and Matt.  Speculation (However, let it be known, if I ever have a bluegrass band, we will be called Mr. MoonFace and the Stonfely Buffet). It was pretty scenery, better company, and a great time in the woods.  The fishing was marginal.  North Carolina dog days just seem tough on trout.





However, the fishing is about to be on fire out West (no morbid wildfire pun intended).  Hopper time.

August Rainbow on the Fraser River in Colorado

Carp Vid from the Local (Big Cicada Dry Flies)

This short was stolen from S.C.O.F.'s latest release. Ryan of Bent Rod Media frequents the local and does a stellar job fishing and making videos.

 

All Gold Err'thang (carp)

After  probably 15 outings and more than years worth of moons, I finally intentionally landed a carp on the fly (This excludes the  carp I  unintentionally landed on a squirmy wormy on the "dream stream" section of the S. Platte pictured in my blog's background.  It was my first fish on the "dream stream" which felt like a dream at first tug, and more like a scene from a hypnotist's comedy routine once I realized my twenty inch trout was a stinking carp).  One change of locations completely changed my luck.  Same lake, but a different spot than I had visited the last 12 times.  It only took two trips, totaling 3 hours cumulatively, two put my first two carp-on-the-fly on the board with a blue channel cat to boot.  The first location that I thrashed for the previous 14 months held carp, but required wading super skinny water, which inevitably lead to spooked carp, which shut down the hole with pheromone alerts.  I hooked two in the old mud flat, with one spit hook and one broken hook.

The new locale is boss. It allows me to walk manicured shoreline, all the while dodging copious amounts of goose excrement,  for about a quarter of a mile without ever seriously spooking fish. Aside from never disturbing the water with my feet, I stand 2 feet above the water instead of knee deep in the water, giving me better perspective for sight fishing. My first common was small, but my second was a slimey five pounds that put a good bend in the 7 weight. I'm stoked to have a honey hole 15 minutes from the house for a quick trip to scratch my itch when I can't haul it up to the mountains for troots. I don't always fish, but when I do I prefer trout...nonetheless, count me in for carp.

I caught three more this week. Here are some more pics.