2007 Northern Rockies Roadtrip - Native Salmonid Marathon

My old blog site is down and my procrastination has burnt me again. Attempting to remember the exact details of a road trip two years after the fact may be difficult but we'll see how my memory is after 40.

This would be my first and only road trip to the Rockies. My fishing partners for this adventure had done his research and it would pay off.

Nearly thirty hours after leaving Parkersburg, WV we found ourselves at Twin Lakes above Wisdom, MT in search of grayling in the native range. There would be no grayling in these waters but there were Montana fence staples.

Our first task before we even wet a line on our trip was to change a tire, twenty miles from the closest paved road. The fence staple would be handed to me the following day in Salmon, ID.

We were able to pick up a few miscellaneous cutthroat and brook trout in the stream exiting Twin Lakes.

Our next day would find us fishing a stream in Idaho in search of bull trout, westslope cutthroat, and Columbia River basin redbands. We had no idea we would find all three in the same stream and in such numbers.

I caught this guy at the first stream crossing, things were looking promising.

With my first ever bull trout under my belt, I felt much relieved. I had no idea what would lie ahead for the day. Within an hour I had all three species under my belt, as we picked up fish in nearly every pocket!

Westslope cutthroat

Columbia River Basin Redband

After each of us had picked up all three species, we decided to head up one of the feeder tribs. This stream would not disappoint either as I picked up a few more of these.

We returned to the main stream and continued to pick up a mixed bag of the three.

One thing I kept noticing on some of these fish were scars. I didn't think anything about it; I figured they were from predatory birds, until I caught this guy. I could actually make out the jaw lines from whatever had gotten a hold on him.

At this point we decided to move upstream, above where the road leaves the stream for good. This section of stream would prove to be no different, as we continued to fish side-by-side and we continued to pick up fish in every pocket.

We finally ran into a decent pool, with root ball on one side and a log jam at the tail. I tied on a small olive woolybugger and drifted it downstream, hoping to pull something large from the log jam. Unfortunately, all I could manage was another small bull trout.

As I stripped in the 6" fish, a wake came out of the root ball across from me. It was like something out of Jaws, with back half out of the water. It was a BIG bull trout and he was after the little bull on the end of my line. He hit it broadside and would not let loose. I yelled for my partner, who had already moved upstream to the next pool.

I was fishing a 6' 6" 2wt rod and all I could do was hold him in the pool in front of me. My partner took a swipe at him with the net and missed! My heart sunk as the big bull let go. As I stripped the half-dead, little bull trout back to me; the big bull hit him again! This time he hit him headfirst and swallowed him to the tail.

All I had to do now was keep from breaking my rod or break the 5X tippet. This time my partner took another swipe at him with the net and connected.


This is and continues to be my only +20" trout and I didn't have a hook in him. Not bad for a 2wt rod and 5X tippet!

We fished for a short while longer before calling it a day. We fished together the entire time on this stream and my guess would be about fifty fish each and three different native species!

The next day would find us searching a couple of different streams, one in search of more redbands and another in search of big bull trout - at the recommendation of an old timer in the little town we were spent the night (population 90).

The first stream in Box canyon was small and overgrown. It was difficult to fish but I did manage one small redband.

We missed the turn to our second stream; actually the turn would have been a path through the middle of a large field. We ended up on the wrong branch of the stream, fishing the exit of a small lake. We caught numerous small cutthroat but no bull trout below the lake.

We fished around the edge of the lake, headed for the feeder stream. We each caught small westslopes in the lake.

Once we got to the feeder stream, we found two things. The first was the amazingly cold water, we had been wet wading but this water was numbing. It was late July, but this sure felt like runoff water.

The second thing we found were more cutthroat.

We did spook one small bull trout, but we brought none to hand.

The next day would find us heading back across Montana, with a final destination of Cody and the start of our quest for the Wyoming Cuttslam.

We chose this pass, the same as Lewis & Clark, to cross back into Montana.

As we ventured back across Montana, we couldn't help but notice the lack of visibility from the massive forest fires that were raging across SW Montana. We crossed into Wyoming at Beartooth Pass and could not believe the lack of visibility. This was the view in 2002, during my first trip across Beartooth Pass.

This was the view during our voyage across Beartooth.

Visibility was well enough that we would see one of the Beartooth locals.

We made our destination of Cody, set up camp and then picked up our other partner for the Cuttslam at the airport.

The next day, after purchasing our license, we would search for the first leg of the slam - the Yellowstone cutthroat. Sixty miles on hardtop and another thirty on gravel put us on the stream in cutthroat territory and it also put us in grizzly territory - which I have an extreme fear of.

On the way from the vehicle to the water, we ran into a forest service employee who informed us there had not been a grizzly sighting in this particular area in several years. That information put me only slightly at ease - I was charged by a grizzly sow in the Lamar Valley of Yellowstone in 2002. She came within 15 yards before she turned to catch her three cubs, but that's another story.

Once we hit the water, we each had our Yellowstone cutts within thirty minutes.

It's a good thing we caught our fish early because as the day went on and the sun went high in the sky, the fishing came to a screeching halt. I picked up one other cutthroat before we called it a day, not without each of us completing leg one of the slam.

The next day would not be a fishing day; it would be a tour of Yellowstone. I had toured Yellowstone before, but one of my fishing partners had not. It would be a long day, but well worth it as Yellowstone never ceases to amaze me.

A mudslide would prevent us from exiting via the east entrance, so it would be backtrack through the Lamar Valley, Cooke City, and Chief Joseph Highway - all told, it was a sixteen hour day.

The next day would put us back in the park, this time in search of grayling. We would not be heading to the most common destination for grayling, the Firehole drainage. We were headed for a small lake in the Yellowstone drainage.

About a 1.5 mile hike put us on this small, spring fed lake.

You could follow the rises as they cruised around the lake. Wait for the risers to come to you and then cast ahead of where they would be. My partner would be the first to land a grayling while my first fish of the day would be some type of cutthroat.

We dodged a lightning storm and fought off the vicious black flies, while catching the very occasional fish. I was beginning to get worried that I would not land my first grayling on this trip, but that would soon change. I was fishing a small, black woolybugger with a nymph trailer when I cast ahead of a rising pod of fish. I soon hooked something, though what it was I was not sure. Whatever it was, it fought well! When I finally got it to net, I was surprised that not only had I caught my first grayling, I had done it in the form of a double.

With all three of us picking up our grayling, we would call it a day - the black flies were simply too bad.

The next day would have us breaking camp in Cody and heading to Hoback, where we would try to complete the final three legs of the slam.

We set up camp on the banks of the Snake River and tried to quickly pick up the second leg in the main waters of the Snake. None of us had experience fishing water like that, it was tough to read and so we hit the tiny feeder creek that also ran through the campground. Luckily, this stream would hold small specimens of the Snake River cutthroat.

We each now had the second leg of the slam under our belts and we didn't even have to leave camp!

The next day would put us in search of the Colorado River strain. Two hours later and several more miles of gravel roads put us on the stream, unfortunately what we found was off-color water. We tried to fish the stained waters with no luck, so we pulled out the gazetteer and picked another stream in the Colorado River drainage.

The next stream was heavily silted but we fished it briefly and I was able to pick up what appeared to be a Snake River strain. We then traveled further south to the next stream in the drainage. What we found in this stream was not cutthroat but a very good population of brook trout.

I love brook trout but that was not what we were in search of, but I was able to add another state to my brook trout list (number 11).

While we were busy catching these little brook trout, the senior member of our group caught this nice Snake River cutthroat on his special "gray nymph".

We returned to camp unsuccessful on our third leg, but we were able to catch a mess of brook trout for dinner. That act would be questioned here in their native range, but they're invasives in Wyoming - and those invasives tasted great over an open fire!

The next day would put us directly south of Hoback in search of the Bonneville cutthroat. We found this small stream running parallel to the highway.

As with the other successful legs to date, we each caught small cutthroat in short order.

In search of larger Bonnevilles, we took another long drive across endless gravel to a slightly larger stream. I did catch a couple of even smaller Bonnevilles and we also landed some nice whitefish, but the larger Bonnevilles avoided us. It did not matter though as we each had leg three of the slam complete.

Before returning to camp, we stopped at a Hoback tributary and picked up a few more Snake River cutts.

The final day in Hoback put us back on the same stream we had tried two days prior, hoping the water had cleared and the Colorado River cutthroat would cooperate. When we arrived at the stream, the water had indeed cleared but we still had to locate the cutthroat.

Again, our senior partner fished the gray nymph and again caught the big fish. It was a very nice Colorado River cutthroat and his slam was complete.

With his slam complete, he would be my net man to insure a photo if I were to catch the final species. I was fishing a dry dropper tandem rig again and I was doing a fine job picking up whitefish!

Again, I was getting nervous as I could see my other partner at the vehicle drinking a celebratory beverage, which meant he had completed his slam. Growing frustrated, I took the dropper off which allowed me to pitch the small stimulator a little closer to cover. That would be the ticket as I soon started picking up small Colorado River cutthroat.

We celebrated that evening with a two-pound burger at a small roadside cafe just outside Hoback. That night we would pack up camp at 3:00 AM with a destination of Estes Park and one more cutthroat species.

Eight hours later we were standing in Estes Angler waiting on my younger brother who lives just outside of Denver. I had previously caught our targeted species that day, but my younger brother and my partner on the Cuttslam had not.

A short hike in put us on the stream and again we all had this species (probably the most beautiful cutthroat) under our belts in short order.

Following the hike back out, there was only thing remaining on this marathon road trip...the drive home. My one and only road trip to the Rockies was successful all around: 6000 miles driven - crossing the Continental Divide in nine different locations, 6 cutthroat species (in their native range), bull trout (native range), redband (native range), and grayling.

This is the link to the video I created:

Northern Rockies Roadtrip

Even after 40, my memory is still pretty good!

Chris

The Past, Present, and Future

One of the greatest programs TU has going is the Trout In the Classroom program.

http://www.troutintheclassroom.org/

The Kanawha Valley chapter had eight programs running in elementary schools during the 2008-2009 school year. We were asked to pick up and haul fish for two of the schools in our area. Our chapter had recently purchased two new hauling tanks and they needed to broken in, so we jumped at the chance.

These two schools had raised these trout from eggs over the last 7-8 months, quite a task in itself.


I was very nervous going into this, I was concerned something would go wrong during the transfer and we would be left to explain to the students what happened to their fish. I knew these students had taken ownership and responsibility of these little guys but I had no idea of the magnitude. These were not just fish in the tank, they were classmates and there were some strong emotions.





We were to transfer the water from the fish tanks to our hauling tanks, then transfer the fish. Transferring the water was the easy task, catching those trout without a fly rod was another story!


The first load of fish successfully transferred to the hauling tank, the bottles of ice were applied and the water was holding at 52 degrees. Now it was off to classroom number two to repeat the same.

Again, the transfer of water was easy but chasing down those little trout was quite a task. We were able to successfully transfer all trout without a casualty and tank number two was holding at 48 degrees. The tanks were then secured for the hour-long ride to their new home.


Once at the stream, we checked the tanks for temperatures and fish condition. The fish were doing just fine and our insulated hauling tanks were still holding at 52 and 48 degrees, respectively.

We had approximately 45 trout to be released by over 100 proud students. The students were on their best behavior and each took their turn releasing one or two fish to every three or four students. The entire process went off without a hitch!

I will reiterate, this program is the best thing TU has going and I look forward to getting more programs started in the area next year. Ensuring a healthy future of coldwater fisheries for our youth is why I do what I do in TU....

...Now, I couldn't go to the edge of "trout country" and not wet a line. Besides, I had not been fishing with this particular friend in three years!

A little background: this guy taught me how to fly fish, we have fished all up and down the east coast - from New York to North Carolina, and we took our first trip to the Rockies together back in 2002. I believe we used to fish two or three times a month together but none since March 2006. I can probably count the times I have outfished him on one hand so I was psyched to get another "lesson".

We also had my new fishing partner in tow, who had been with me in the Smokies and on my first outing of the year.

I had fished this stream seven days earlier and did quite well in the short period of time I was on the stream, but these two had never fished this particular brookie stream.

We split up right out of the truck, but I went with the old friend. This day, I didn't care if I caught a fish, I just wanted to fish with an old friend. On the short distance to the water I found a morel in the trail, so our first order of business was to scour the hillside for more. We found five or six of these wild, edible delicacies but he would inform me later they had been up too long to eat.

Back to the stream, he started with a dry and I started with the old reliable small, olive woolybugger. This pattern would be "the ticket" again on this day as I caught this guy on the first drift.

We continued to fish upstream, I would let him hit each hole with the dry then I would follow him - dredging the bottom.

I picked up this nice specimen while an overhanging branch was held out of my way with a dry fly. Thanks for the assist!

I mentioned, while I was fighting this guy, that he was fighting harder than just about any brookie I had ever caught - and I've caught a few. When I finally landed him, I saw the reason for the struggle. I had foul hooked him just above the gill plate and I was told I could not "count" this one. Regardless, it was a beautiful specimen!

I continued to pick up the occasional brookie while my old friend refused to switch from the dry. All the time we reminisced on how when we started fly fishing I refused to use anything BUT a dry...how things change.

My old friend finally picked up one on a dry. I don't think it was the first of the day, but I'm pretty sure I was up on him.

Eventually, all three of us were together on the stream and we alternated holes between the three of us and eventually all three of us were fishing sub-surface flies. Everyone continued to pick up the brookies and all things were good.

It was like seeing a transition in life happen right before my eyes. Work and personal schedules have separated my old friend and I, while the same schedules allow me to fish more with my new fishing partner. Some things never change though, as I was the butt of ridicules from both guys.

I finally caught what would be my last fish of the day.

My old partner finally caught what would be the final fish of the day for him - he had successfully knocked the rust off. The task then would be to put my new partner on his last fish of the day....one more pocket, one more pocket and he would have his last fish of the day - on a woolybugger.

What an incredible day, probably the best in recent memory - a combination of the past, present, and future!

I don't know how many I caught (I don't count) but I'm pretty sure I finished up on my old partner. I still don't think I am counting on my second hand yet!

Chris

Elkhorn Cleanup 2009

This is one of my favorite annual TU activities as it is time spent with friends and, oh by the way, we do a little work too.

The plan was to leave work and be at the campground before dark. With temperatures in the mid to upper 80's, I didn't make a full day of work. I cut the day short by a couple of hours and stopped at a brookie stream I had not fished in a couple of years.

I had seen reports last year during the drought of long stretches of stream with no water at all. I didn't know what to expect, but I thought I would check it out.

I started with a personal favorite setup of a small caddis dry and a small pheasant-tail dropper. I moved a couple of fish, but no takers - a good sign considering the drought reports. After a short while (all I had was less than two hours to fish), I switched to my reliable olive woolybugger.

I pulled this guy out of the first hole with the small, olive bugger:

With very little time to fish, I pressed on. I was moving fish in nearly every hole! Apparently the drought didn't affect the adult fish. I caught this nice specimen, shortly after the first.

During the short time on the stream, I saw something I rarely see on a brookie stream - fish rising. I could not determine what they were rising to and I could not entice them with the woolybugger so I pressed on.

With little time remaining before I had to turn and head for camp, I fished one more hole. This guy was the result:

Overall, it was a very nice outing for the short period of time I had to spend on the stream. I did, however, have time to play with the circular polarizer lens on my camera. Too often I settle for the signature watch shots and forget about the beautiful "piece of grass" I chase these beauties with.

I was very pleased how these shots turned out!

I believe early spring may be my favorite time of year to hit the stream. The green is beginning to return and the wildflowers are popping everywhere. On the way back to the vehicle, I ran across these. They were growing among the violets and wild geraniums - they are dwarf larkspur.

It took me a little longer than I had planned to find the campground, but I found it. What a site it was, there must have been 50+ TU volunteers gathered in preparation for the clean-up the following day.

After a late night of great stories and laughter, it was up early for breakfast before heading to the stream.

I have taken part in this clean-up in three of the last four years, only business travel last year prevented my attendance. I must say, we ARE making a difference. My first couple of years we gathered much more "large" items....tires, appliances, etc. This year it was mostly plastic bottles and paper/styrofoam plates. Other than a Girls Gone Wild DVD, my favorite find was "His Airness".

We were done in three short hours and then it was a gathering for pictures and lunch. I didn't get an exact count but my guess would be close to 100 volunteers. There were three chapters represented and many local citizens. We had volunteers from North Carolina, Cleveland, and Indianapolis!

It was also a very nice location for this lunch gathering, the restored Ashland coal camp company store. The history in that place, and that area is amazing.

After a quick lunch we had time to hit the stream. I fished with a new friend in a section of stream we did not have enough volunteers to clean. Notice the "structure" in the pool he is targeting? This is the type of structure I was accustomed to removing from the streams during this event.

On a personal note, I have not caught a brown trout since I attended this clean-up two years ago. This also includes three trips to the Rockies and several outings in West Virginia. I spend all of my time exploring native waters, but I can make an exception for this great event. Here is my token brown trout.

It was tough fishing, the clear skies and the upper-80 temperatures made thing quite difficult.

After a long, hot day of cleaning and fishing it was back to camp for another great evening of fellowship. Great people! Great food! Great friends!

I made plans to hit a stream in Virginia early the next morning with an old friend I had not fished with since our Northern Rockies Roadtrip in 2007. I also wanted to see a new "fish friendly" culvert Virginia and the USFS had installed last year.

I am not getting any younger and with early morning plans, I made it an early night.

The next day started before daylight with a wake-up call from our host that day. Our destination was a stream just across the border in Virginia. I had fished it two years ago, just long enough to peak my interest.

These were my on stream partners for the day.

As normal procedure, I started with an EHC and a small BHPT dropper. I was given the privilege of the first pool and it paid off. I landed three small brookies in the first pool!

The fishing was slow, but consistent for the better part of the time we were on the stream. The weather conditions from the previous two days were repeated again this day with clear, blue skies and rising temperatures.

I did manage to land one nice fish, as most fish caught were in the 4-6 inch class. With the clear skies, they seemed to like the dropper.

I took time to pose him with the Vandalia bamboo.

As we moved up stream, it got much tighter with the overhanging rhododendron. Mixed in this jungle we found this nice streamside camp. It was hidden very well and would make a nice spot for a potential future visit.

Somewhere in this tight cover I missed a trophy brook trout. He came to the surface from a pocket I cold not see the bottom. I hooked him briefly and then he was gone, my guess would be a 12-inch fish. The big ones always get away!

With three plus hours of driving in front of me and one more stop, I called it another quick day. The only thing remaining was to fight our way out of this rhododendron jungle. Somewhere in the process of finding our way back to the vehicle we got separated. While standing streamside waiting on the other pair, I tied on old reliable woolybugger and picked up one more brookie for good measure.

On the way home, I made a quick stop to see this new culvert. It was installed last year in order to reconnect brook trout populations in these tiny headwater streams. I have been told they are quite expensive to install, but if the USFS and Virginia can find the funds we should be able to as well.

It was a great weekend with great friends and I am already looking forward to the 2010 Elkhorn clean-up.

Chris

Shutout in the Smokies

…..Well, not really.

My son had done such an admirable job on our first outing this year, I decided to take him along on longer trip. I made the 4-day Easter weekend trip to Great Smoky Mountain National Park with a friend and my 8-year-old son. I had not been to the Smokies since 2005 and we were really looking forward to this trip.

Heavy rains passed through the area on Good Friday that caused the streams to raise (not off-color) and the flows were absolutely brutal. Our first step was to set up camp, what an adventure that was! My friend’s new tent had never been slept in and had only been assemble once.

After setting up camp it was off to Little River Outfitters, probably THE best fly shop I have been in anywhere in the United States. I let my son pick out his own flies, of those flies he selected a purple parachute Adams and a size 2 gray ghost. Who knows, under the right conditions they may have worked. The employees of the shop were great as usual and treated my son like he was king of the world.

The first stop I had planned was the Middle Prong of the Little River above Tremont, but after a brief conversation in LRO I was informed that section was closed to habitat enhancement. They did suggest, however, Sam’s Creek above the Middle Prong trailhead – so off we went.

I knew they had received some rainfall earlier in the day and I knew they were still experiencing runoff from the 8-10” of snowfall on Tuesday, but I did not expect water levels/flows that were present when we got to the trailhead. My last trip to this watershed was Memorial Day weekend in 2005 and I wet waded the Middle Prong that weekend. This trip, where I had previously wet waded, the first view of the stream was kayakers – it was absolutely raging! Regardless, we crossed the bridge on the Middle Prong and headed toward Sam’s Creek.

We ran into this guy where the Middle Prong and Sam’s Creek trails split. He was sunning himself on a fallen tree and he was pretty lethargic – April is still early for the reptiles.

With the skies darkening, we didn’t hike long before we decided try are luck in the raging waters. We didn’t fish long before we realized we should head back toward the vehicle. I did not catch a fish, but I did miss a fierce strike on the nymph dropper at the first bridge abutment.

With the rain beginning, I decided to take Ross to the Tremont visitor’s center – just missed them. While Ross picked flies from one of my boxes to stock up his new fly box, my friend decided to try his luck right behind the visitor’s center. He picked up a small rainbow against the bank while fishing downstream with a weighted woolybugger.

With the rain coming down even harder (even threats of tornadoes) we decided to stay in the car and take a tour of the Cade’s Cove area. This was a great decision as my son was able to see several gobblers and jakes spread throughout the fields. At one point they gobbled every time it thundered.




So with day one closing, I had yet to catch a fish but still a successful day for my son: new flies, new fly box, rat snake, and gobbling turkeys.

Day two started with lower than forecasted temperatures and a slight drizzle that was not in the forecast. Our decision was to go high toward Newfound Gap, in hopes of avoiding the raging waters we found in lower elevations the day prior.


We made a quick stop along Little River when we spotted this on the route toward Gatlinburg.


This tactic works in West Virginia but apparently not so well in Tennessee. After a hike of about a mile straight up, what we found up high were the same conditions. The conditions were much more treacherous due to the car size boulders we would have been fishing on and around, not to mention the fact that at 11:00 AM the visibility was still about 50 yards.


They call them the Smoky Mountains for a reason.

We fished for an hour or so, before making the decision to move back down in search of lower gradient water and hopefully easier traversing.

Our next stop was a roadside stream just west of the Sugarlands visitor center. The water in this small stream was in much better condition, but in our brief stay on this stream we moved only one small fish – I saw nothing.


The trout were elusive but the spring wild flowers were beginning to peak. These yellow trillium were everywhere.

After looking over the park map, we chose to explore larger water, so we made a short jump back into the Little River watershed and my first visit to Elkmont. We could not find a parking space at the Little River trailhead above Elkmont campground, so we made our way to the old logging community of Elkmont. We gave another attempt on the new waters of Jake’s Creek.

The water looked great, but the rhododendron-choked stream was impossible to fish from the bank and the current made it impossible to fish from the stream….another swing and a miss!

The little cabins of Elkmont were in fairly good condition but are closed to visitors, leaving only your imagination to wonder what the community would have been like during the peak of the logging industry.

Running late in the day, we chose to head back in the direction of camp. We decided to give the Middle Prong of the Little River another try, this time below Tremont in the lower gradient area. The stream was still too swift to wade but my friend was still able to pick up a couple of small bows – with the assistance of three splitshot.


On the route to Tremont, again along Little River, I found these columbine in bloom.

Ross and I decided to try our luck along one of the rock retaining walls. We did not move a fish, but we did bring one of the locals to hand. What we found was a black-lipped red salamander sunning himself on the water’s edge of the retaining wall.


After our day one encounter with the black rat snake, Ross picked up a Smoky Mountain guide to reptiles and amphibians. It came in handy, as I would have guessed Midland Mud salamander but Ross pointed out that it did have a black chin. I think Ross enjoyed seeing the local fauna more than he did the fishing – probably due to the lack of “catching”.

With time for one more stop for the day we chose another new stream, the West Prong of the Little River above Cade’s Cove Road. The water again looked very good, but again the fish did not cooperate.

And so day two ended without a fish to hand, but again it was a success for Ross. He was able to test his hiking abilities on the Chimney top trail and he discovered another “critter” in the beautiful little salamander.

Day three started early in the morning when I had to cover Ross with another blanket. The weather forecast was for lows in the mid-40’s, but what we awoke to was a chilling 31 degrees. In a tent and a zero-degree sleeping bag, Ross still got chilled.

With the chilly temperatures, we decided to do a little sight seeing while waiting on the temps to warm up. The sky was nearly crystal clear, so we decided it was a perfect time to hit Clingman’s Dome (the second highest peak east of the Mississippi) and it was early enough to beat the crowds.


The views from the parking lot were amazing! Looking down on the low elevation clouds on the North Carolina side of the park was incredible.


The Forney Creek watershed also looked very inviting…some other time!

When we got to the top, you could actually see the overlook. The first time I made this short trek, I could barely see the overlook from 50 yards away!

You could actually see Mt. LeConte and in the very distance you could make out Mt. Mitchell (the highest peak east of the Mississippi).

Mt. LeConte

Ross also took his first steps on the Appalachian Trail. Is it a sign of things to come in his future?

We also got an indication why the fishing was slow, in addition to the high water there was still residual snow from the 8-10" they received five days earlier.

With the trail getting crowded and daylight burning, we decided it had warmed enough to hit the water. We were headed back down off the mountain, through Gatlinburg, and to the Greenbrier entrance.

The plan was to hike into the Middle Prong of the Little Pigeon on the Ramsay Cascade trail. Once we made it to the trailhead, our plans changed again as the water was raging as it had been everywhere else. This section of the stream is boulder hopping at its finest and with the water ripping I didn't think it was safe for Ross. We fished briefly from the top of a car-sized boulder before calling it quits at this locale.

On the way back to the vehicle, I spotted bloodroot. It was flowering yet, but the unique feature of this plant is the root.

We then decided to head to a little smaller, lower gradient stream in the area - Porter's Creek. This stream was very difficult for Ross to maneuver around due to the rhododendron choking the water. After fighting the brush, I decided to try something a little different.

Ross and I walked back to the car with a purpose, I wanted to see if he could manage to wear my waders and wading boots. Obviously they were quite large on him, but he wanted in that water past his rubber boots!

Now we have a means to get Ross off the bank, but the fish were not cooperating again, the water was still brutally cold.

We decided to try one last location on the Middle Prong of the Little Pigeon. On the way in we had spotted a section of slower moving water, it was bigger water but it was out last resort.

Once on the water, I could notice a significant increase in the water temperature and there were sporadic risers...good news!

I helped Ross wade across the stream and we fished for a short while before he decided he wanted to give it a try.

Ross gave it a go for a while and then turned the rod back to me. I missed several short strikes on a trio of different patterns: EHC, BWO, and a small ant. Ross and I then decided to call it a day and thus ended our Smokies fishing trip. We did stop and walk around Gatlinburg and dined catfish, gator, and frog legs at Huck Finns restaurant in Pigeon Forge.

Day three ended without trout again, but again I would still call the day a success. Ross made it to the top of the second highest peak east of the Mississippi, wore waders & waded for the first time, and he ate alligator for the first time.

With temps dropping again we packed up camp that night and rented a hotel room before heading for home the next morning.

We traveled home through Kentucky with hopes of adding another state to my brook trout list, but that disaster does not even merit a write-up.

Ross and I will make it back to the Smokies again, and there will be trout involved next time....but no trout does not equal failure!

Chris