Overnighter in the Smokies

I'm an addict. There I said it. The recent camping trip to a lake and a trip to another river the following weekend were great but they left me wanting more. I never got to do a backpacking trip, last year included. My sand colored Kelty has just been collecting dust.

A couple of guys I originally met on a fishing forum these past couple of years and I have got past the screen names and friended on that website that friends people. Recently Todd (aka technowannabe) messaged Fox and I about doing an overnighter in the Smokies soon and we were both game. A stream none of us had fished was chosen for the destination. Before it was time to go Fox had to pull out making it a two man trip.

I arrived mid morning, a few hours before Todd. It was hot and humid already and the trail was a little more steep than I expected, but not bad for most hikers. I'm a pitifully out of shape smoker and needed to stop several times to catch my breath, and replace what I was sweating out. At a half mile a tributary about equal in size joins the other half, and from this point on up the stream went from mid sized to small. Somewhere around 1 3/4 miles I found the site that would be home for the night. After camp was made and the rod was strung, I was ready to see what this beautiful creek had to offer.

The water was stained, as I had heard it has a tendency to be. There were the usual mix of cascades and pools along with alot of blown down trees. I made a few drifts and landed a trout near camp. Upstream from there was blocked by blow down so I decided to scout from the trail above camp. It climbed up and away from the stream for a ways, and around a quarter mile I turned back to gather some firewood and rest until Todd arrived.

After a swing in the hammock, I awoke to the sound of thunder. I saw a hat sticking out above the brush moving double time up the trail. Todd had arrived. We had both read after the spot was picked that it was one of the less aesthetically pleasing campsites in the park but neither of us agreed. After setting up his gear we hit the trail to find more water above camp. Eventually the trail and stream met again and in we went.

After pushing our way through the rhododendron choked stream it became evident that although it was itself fishable, there was little room for hooksets or even a bow and arrow cast with the long fly rods. The blowdowns didn't help either. Without either of us catching a trout we turned and headed back down the trail.

On the way back to camp we ran into a bear walking up the trail. We were many miles away from where the Hazel creek attack happened recently, and although the bear scattered upon seeing us we were still a little bearanoid.

Next morning we decided with our limited time to fish downstream instead of trying to fight a losing battle upstream. We ended up packing up camp and walking back to the trailhead to deposit our non fishing gear in the locked vehicles, and try our luck in the bigger water along the lower half mile of the trail. We jumped in the water and started casting and in the first hole I caught a fingerling.

A little bit upstream I coaxed the largest creek chub I have caught (or horny head if you prefer)  into eating a large black nymph. A couple more drifts in the same run produced a nice rainbow.

Todd had yet to find a trout on the end of his line. The water seemed to be a little bit warmer and mostly hold creek chubs but we kept on working our way up, utilizing the trail to navigate the blowdowns. It was starting to get hot and the fishing seemed nonexistent at this point. We tried the traditional trout patterns, some streamers, and everything in between. After slipping and landing in the water, and a few close calls myself, Todd declared we were getting tired and should probably go. I wasn't ready to admit it yet, but he was right.

Todd working the hole

The trout eluded Todd but not due to lack of skill, stealth or effort. Slow fishing is an understatement. However I still had a bitchin time and made a new friend. Thanks for the chub pic and hope the leg is looking better dude!

Camping on the lake

This isn't how it was supposed to work out. I had a little paid time off coming up and made some plans for a backpacking trip in the smokies. My companions couldn't make it so I went solo with plan B instead. Of course it still included camping and small stream trout.

Loaded up the truck before dawn so the neighbors wouldn't notice and had a nice early morning drive over a popular mountain road. I arrived at the lake to find the  packed. Like Walmart on black Friday packed. A nearby river was running rafting releases and there were tents, hammocks and kayaks slung anywhere there was space. I imagined it was absolute madness the evening before.

I quickly stuffed my gear into the borrowed canoe (mine was hit by a drunk driver) to avoid drawing the attention of so many, likely hungover paddlers. After a short trip down the lake camp was set up in the mouth of a stream known to test the skills of hikers and anglers alike.

View from my hammock

A short nap to recharge the batteries was interrupted by a thunderstorm. After it passed I finally hit the notorious trail I have been daydreaming about for quite some time. In places it did not disappoint.

It was a different kind of trail. Not too bad but wet.

I made my way up the trail, passing multiple backcountry campsites along the way, and stopping to drift a couple of promising pools. I came to a waterfall and climbed down for a couple pictures right as it started to sprinkle. I didn't stay there long though I did manage to get a couple of warpaint shiners to eat.

There was a little log cabin above the falls

It was starting to rain harder and there was thunder in the distance so I moved quickly hoping to find some semblance of shelter. There was a small bluff around 15 feet tall so I hung out at the base. I had an emergency blanket and wrapped myself up hoping to stay reasonably dry, but as the thunder moved closer I started seeing flashes through the forest and my ears were ringing from the near by bolts. I wondered if the astronaut blanket had any actual metal since it looked like a big sheet of aluminum foil. Not wanting to know for sure, I shucked the blanket and rode out the storm.

After the worst was over, I could finally do what I came to do. With a steady rain still falling I found a couple of likely spots and the trout seemed to approve of my offering. One hooked and lost then another one missed, I started to move up the trail in search of more water and realized I had hit a dead end. I searched for a bit but I didn't pick up the path. It was getting late in the afternoon, being soaked and hungry I decided to try again in the morning. On the way down I noticed a couple of trees down on the trail that weren't there before. You couldn't miss it, it was just above the falls in a spot I wondered if it was previously a campsite or just the party spot.

Something bad happened here

Somewhere around 3-4 am I woke to the sound of breaking timber. I knew what it was, and there was nothing I could do but lay there and hope the falling tree didn't land on my tent. It was close enough I felt the thud as it landed. I have no wife so luckily it couldn't be a widow maker that night.

The next morning I was up bright and early, much wiser from the experiences of the previous day. I have heard a saying, an older one supposedly. "Up by noon-down by two" was how it went. I planned on keeping those hours this time around no matter what.

Just up the trail I stopped and plucked a couple of rainbows from a run then made tracks to the falls. And right into the dead end again. I had hoped to see something I missed the day before. I tried going a few different ways but found nothing. I spent over an hour searching before I walked back to the log cabin to start over. Hiking back up I spotted a little pink ribbon up in a tree I missed before. Bingo!

 A nice bow

It was evident from the condition of the trail that most hikers who come in from the lake are there for the falls. It also explains why I kept missing the fork. The trail climbed away from the stream, was overgrown, and eroded in places. Not many traverse this section since most anglers take a different trail bringing them in further upstream.

I came to the next crossing and the trail opened back up, wide and following the stream. Gone were the big rock ledges that defined the area surrounding the falls and the creek looked more like a classic mid elevation mountain stream. I made a few drifts and finally landed a little brown trout.

 It took a lot of effort but it was worth it!

I worked my way upstream, keeping a close eye on the trail, and picking up a brown here and there. Before long I was at a large campsite and the trail junction most anglers use to access the stream. I stopped for a few pictures then hit the stream again. I wasn't far above the junction when my alarm sounded, marking the time to turn around and start back to camp.  I pondered ignoring it and continuing to the next trail junction, where a sizable tributary joins the mainstream. It was maybe another mile up the trail, but I had no desire to be caught out in another thunderstorm. I made it back just as the clock ticked off the two.

Poor man's stimulator wins again

Following lunch I planned to fish the lake, after a swing in the hammock of course. When I woke it was 830pm! I slept the entire afternoon away. I decided to night fish the lake and was waiting for dark when I heard thunder. Dang it!

I jumped in the tent and next came a monsoon that tried its best to flatten it out. I sat there nervously holding up the peak to preserve the poles that normally had the job covered. The storm passed then came another followed by another. They never reached the intensity of the earlier storm but were enough to keep me in the tent, awake nearly all night. I packed camp at first light the next morning to avoid the coming generation period.

The lake on the way out

Got to the ramp and it was empty. The kayakers, the campers, fishermen, all gone. Like the stream, I had the whole place to myself. I unloaded everything except the fishing gear and paddled back out. I managed to land a rainbow trout before the current picked up. As much as I wanted to stay and make up for lost time, I knew I was done.


Thanks to troutgirl and fland49 for the info and rusty for the canoe. Y'all helped make this happen.

Y prong

After last weeks ill advised trip to the smokies ended up being a bust, I decided I had to get back up there and into some spring hatches. Last week I only saw one mayfly hatch off of the high water, and my new big black stonefly nymph got a few bumps, but I knew it would be better with lower flows. I didn't try very hard and my time was limited so I made sure I had plenty of time and effort this week.

When I arrived around 1030 it was lightly raining off and on. Sometimes it was more of a mist than rain. The water was still a little bit high, but nothing to fear. I stopped at a spot along the road just to get a feel for what was happening. There were a few bugs flying around but none on the water and no trout splashing. I jumped back in the truck and headed upstream as far as I could drive then walked to a nearby tributary where I was more comfortable wading and crossing when needed.

After a half hour of refusals at my shiny new big black nymph I finally saw a big mayfly struggling to fly upwards and switched to a big dark bushy fly with a pheasant tail dropper. Bingo!

 Where I fished

First of the day


I came to a pool with a big rock and an eddy on the back side. There were a lot of stick cased caddis (stick bait if your talking to an old timer) hanging on just below the surface. Last week I saw a lot of rock cased caddis on top of the rocks in a different tributary.

 There were more than just caddis hanging around. See them all?


It took around a half hour but they soon started to hit the dry fly. I didn't see any trout rising otherwise. I worked my way upstream catching plenty of little rainbow trout along the way. I wanted to find the mouth of another tributary I have fished before but never seen the confluence. The manway used for access brings you in above a waterfall that prevents rainbow trout from passing and is all brook trout beyond. I've never seen this waterfall so I wanted to try and find it too.

The mouth of X creek at Y prong


I found the tributary and made my way up the lowest stretches of the stream. It wasn't as easy going as the lower tributary, and thats saying something since it wasn't exactly like climbing stairs either.

I had to climb a few of these


I came to a spot where I either had to swim to continue or climb out, and wearing waders, swimming was not an option. Once I climbed up I thought I could see the manway just above so I kept climbing, bushwhacking my way through laurels and doghobble. I came to a flat spot but no manway. I could see another flat further up the hill, steeper but less vegetation to push through. On the way up I spotted a rock wall I had never noticed before and wondered if I missed the trail and was heading up the ridge. It looked flat just above the wall so I climbed up and found out why I had never seen this wall before. The manway is literally on top of it!

Not swimming today...

See the manway?


I started up the trail and after coming over a hill I came to an open area. There was something big on the manway about 50 yards ahead that I thought was an adult bear but it was a big ass boar! It hadn't noticed me so I slowly backed up several steps before the chicken in me took over and I ran down the trail as fast as I could, constantly peeping over my shoulder, and looking for a tree I could actually climb. I don't know much about boar behavior so I wasn't taking any chances.

Smokers can't run very far and I didn't. Luckily it didn't chase me. I caught my breath as I walked down the trail toward the truck. The brook trout can wait.

I stopped at a few spots along the road, picking up a little rainbow here and there on the dry fly. Then I hit a wall. I'm not 25 anymore and my legs were starting to gimp out on me, betraying my trust while wading, so I called it a day at 6. After a long and lazy winter, I'm still sore today.

Just a couple

Have you heard about this place called the lunchtime pond? That's what I call it. Its a few miles from my work and an opportunity to indulge my addiction 20 minutes at a time. Though I do stop by sometimes on my way home if I still have the itch...

Well I finally reupped my fishing licenses for the 2015 season  this past week and I couldn't wait to break it in. I dusted off the Ol Scum rod and the little sling pack I made for carrying gear and stashed them both in the truck before heading to work.

My purse

I actually made this a couple of years ago from the cargo pockets of my torn pants, and the cheap belt that came with the pants I bought to replace them. YouTube can teach you more than just how to double haul!

When I got to the pond it was lightly raining and as full as I have ever seen it. I didn't go by there but a couple times all winter, and I didn't fish when I did so I didn't know what to expect. My neighbor hit them pretty hard last year and it showed in my catch rate but I know he can't catch them all.

I walked up to the water, dropped my rubber legged dragon in and gave it a few twitches to get it wet. Mr bucket mouth was waiting nearby and he ambushed me. Before I ever cast!

Pete can't eat them all

I don't know what it planned to do with the food it thought it was eating. It clearly just had a big meal and a tail was sticking out of its throat.

I lost my RLD a few casts later so I switched to a black wooly bugger and got a few more smaller bass to bite. I lost all but the one on the very last cast.

Some bigger water

The transmission in my truck gave up on me last week. This really sucks, I had it rebuilt two years ago with a 6 month/6000 mile warranty that I have far exceeded. I'm too broke to have it fixed right now so its been walking and luckily finding a ride for me lately. Friday, Stu texted me and wanted to know where we were fishing at tomorrow. I told him I had no plans to fish, but instead to walk to the grocery store with my backpack so I could eat this week. Not what I had in mind when I bought my Kelty internal frame... He insisted on picking me up and going to the mountains. I informed him this meant taking me to the store on the way home and he agreed.

Originally I picked a tributary on the north side of the smokies we have yet to set eyes on. We ended up not going there due to lack of time and instead fished a section that is easily accessed.

It was drizzling very lightly when we arrived. We parked near a bridge above the confluence of two major feeders to one of the larger watersheds on this side of the park. Neither of us had fished this stretch of stream before though I had studied maps and was aware of the layout. After rigging up with my favorite dry fly for this time of year, the foam beetle, and a pheasant tail dropper we each started out on a different section of stream. I went below the bridge and Stu above.

It didn't take long before I had  a few very enthusiastic strikes on my beetle. And, I missed them all. I caught up with Stu fairly quick and then crossed the stream so we each had untouched water in front of us and didn't have to leapfrog. Nothing seemed interested in my dropper so I changed out to a green weenie and  soon had a tiny 2" rainbow to hand. A few casts later I landed another small rainbow. The trout seemed small for the size of the stream we were on.

I got my green weenie stuck in a tree while casting to a deep run beneath an overhanging tree. I decided to try a pink weenie instead and cast it into the same run. The fish laying in that run had ignored my green weenie but it liked my pink weenie. This turned out to be the average size I caught for the day

Everything was wet. Rock hopping was required and was more treacherous than usual.

You can see Stu fishing in the above picture. He got ahead of me because I took a little detour to check out the rock wall following the river bank. It is among the longest rock walls I have laid eyes on so far in the smokies.

The road for the most part follows the stream but not too closely in some places. I knew we would have to bushwhack our way back to the road, but how far depended on where we quit. We decided to call it a day when a family of otters came frolicking their way down from upstream, spooking every fish possible along the way. I had to figure out how to cross the stream without getting too soaked. I solved this problem by stepping on a slick rock in the middle of a hole and falling in the water. It no longer mattered how wet I was since now my pack of Pall Mall lights were soaked. To my surprise the bushwhack was really short, only a couple hundred feet. So lucky and unlucky at the same time. I managed to dry out a couple cigarettes for the ride home but the rest were, shall we say, a wash...

Little Creek, Big Rocks

I had to return to this stream. I gave it a try back in march while the water was still cold enough to need waders and I got skunked on this little rivulet. That doesn't happen very often and it left a bad taste in my mouth that's been festering for too long.

Yesterday I met up with my usual fishin buddy and brother in law, Stu, and we headed on up to the trail head where we were to meet up with "The angler formerly known as C4PZLOK" (sorry dude, I had to) If you are a Tennesseeanglers member you may have heard of him, or his more recent screen name, Fox. Fox is a regular contributor on the forum, seasoned angler, though fairly new to fly fishing and a pretty laid back dude. Introductions were made, jokes were cracked, rods got strung and then we started our way up the trail.

I'm pretty laid back as well until you get me on the trail. Stu always makes me walk in front so I don't keep poking the back of his head with my fly rod as I stare off into the forest like a kid from Southern Cal who never had so many trees. Though, I suspect its got as much to do with the spider webs strung across the trail.

We saw signs of bear and boar along the way, mostly in the lower part of the trail. Scat and paw prints on the trail were common. We found a mud hole as well.  Before long we arrived at the stream and started casting. It was a little slow at first, a take here and there but not much action. Fox fished a hole that looks like it has been marked.

I took off my pink weenie dropper and just fished a beetle and things picked up a bit.

An interesting flower I thought my daughter would like to see. Only one pic was worth a darn, I really need to get a little tripod.

I've never seen a caterpillar like this before. The Kidd described it as "Epic" and I can't disagree.

I also had just seen a big fuzzy chartreuse caterpillar dangling from a limb that I couldn't get a decent picture of. Seeing these caterpillars and little else in the way of bugs on the stream made me dig into the fly box for a green weenie when I saw another fly in there that made sense. I made one last year just messing around, and decided to make two more just in case it worked. They have just sat in my fly box for two years getting passed over for proven patterns.

After I dropped a glass caterpillar off of my beetle my catch rate went way up. Stu and Fox found the same success with green weenies and san juan worms.

We passed three rock cairns where I only recall there being one last time. Or there is only one in my picture from the last trip. I'm not sure but I think this might mark a manway over the ridge that drops into another stream.

The fish were greedy for chartreuse as we leapfrogged our way up the stream. I quit counting after 20 brook trout came to hand. Not a monster brookie day but respectable. We finished our day when we came to a place where the water cascaded over a rock formation that looked like swiss cheese. Stu fished the left side and I took the right. Two more brookies came to hand.

It is as good of a landmark as any to start from next time...

big creek

I have been keeping my eye out for the midnight hole for some time. I first heard about it when I moved here back in '97, but had no clue for years where it was. Last year while spending an evening gorging myself on the Great Smoky Mountains Landforms map I found it and spent some time doing my homework.

Yesterday The Kidd and I finally made our way to the Big creek section of the Smokies. Having never been there before we had no idea what to expect. The parking lot was already full and finding a spot was a little difficult. We pulled in at 11:15 am and made our way to the trailhead. It wasn't hot but it was humid like it had just rained, so we started sweating immediately.

The trail at first follows the side of a ridge overlooking the creek in places, but for the first 1/2 to 3/4 of a mile the water is nowhere to be seen. Soon enough the trail found its way back to the stream and it was a sight to behold. big boulders often bigger than a car, Lots of pocket water, some small runs and hopefully lots of trout.

We stopped and checked out a couple of spots along the way not knowing if the midnight hole was marked or how close we were. The water was low so I wondered if it would look anything like the pictures I had seen on Google. We found a spot with a little waterfall and a fairly deep pool and the Kidd spotted a bird nest under a rock overlooking the water, with a few trout feeding in the pool below.

We hit the trail again and within a few minutes I spotted something familiar through the trees. The water was just as blue as the pictures I had seen and there were several trout visibly feeding in the pool in front of us. We weren't alone but were fortunate enough to get a good picture before the hordes showed up and it turned into a swimming hole. I was amazed that the trout didn't hide when everyone started jumping and swimming. They were apparently used to it and kept feeding, never more than a few feet away. One hung out so close to shore I was able to get an underwater shot of him.

Well that looked like fun so I decided I wanted to jump too. The Kidd wanted no part of it and was content to hang out, dip her toes and mostly avoid the cold water.  But me, first time here, and not knowing when I'll ever be back, I had to do it. The hard part was climbing the big rock (not visible) on the left. The 10 year olds were practically running up it compared to me at 36. I slipped and scraped my right shin while making the short climb up.

After I got that out of my system some lunch was ate, some drying out, and then we were off to find mouse creek falls. Its just a short half mile past the midnight hole and there were some really good views of the creek along the way.

At the falls I found some weird fungus growing on the side of a tree. There were alot of people down the path to the falls, and we had already had our fill of being in a crowd for the day, so we hung back and looked on from a higher perspective

I have read Don Kirk's book "Smoky Mountain Trout Fishing Guide" from cover to cover and still refer to it when I go someplace new. Occasionally I have found his assessment of fishing quality to be understated. On Big creek he wrote, "The quality of fishing on Big creek does not quite match the scenery" but the multiple trout I saw earlier said different. I brought along a fly rod and wanted to test the fishing once we passed mouse creek falls. My theory is that 60-70% of people turn around from there and head for their car, and the water above would be less crowded. We found an empty spot just a few minutes up the trail and I strung up the 'ol Temple Fork 4wt(RIP) with a Poor Mans Stimulator and a bead head pheasant tail dropper.

Don Kirk was partially right. This is one of the more scenic streams I've been on, considering proximity to the car. But the fishing I found to be awesome! In two short runs I missed three trout on the PMS and landed three on the BHPT. I only fished for around ten minutes before the incoming clouds went dark, and we thought we heard a little thunder. Not one to test fate while holding a 9ft lightning rod, I kept the tip low and we started our way back towards the truck. I hope to make it back one day soon to pierce some more lips and see what else this little big creek has to offer