Rain had moved in that Friday night and I knew that water would be pushing harder that I'd like.
" border="0" alt="" />Though we need the rain desperately around these parts, when you finally get to fish - a less that ideal situation is frustrating, but again, I was free and standing in trout water no matter the cfs.There are some watersheds where you can find all three species in the same river, but I did not have the luxury of that pursuit so to make the best of it, I started my brookie hunt in the upper West Prong of the Litte Pigeon River - the map will day Walker Camp Prong, but its all the Li'l Pig to me. Over the years, 'bows have established a foothold and have been getting larger there and it disheartens me greatly to know that an easy access brookie spot will eventually go to the dogs...rainbow striped ones that is, but I know that the second part of the slam will be fairly easy to complete because of this invasion.
Passing the mist enshrouded Chimneys (should've stopped and got that picture!) the rain was not heavy, but enough to be annoying. Seeing patches of the river through the trees confirmed that the water was really pushing through the gorge and I hoped the stretch I was going to fish was a little bit slower due to is more "subtle" slope.
Upon arrival, it wasn't whitewater, but it was definatly pushing....
It was tough going inititally, and it didn't help that somehow I managed to leave my waders at home - that water was freezing. But after finding some soft spots around rocks a couple of brookies rose to a foam posted para adams and also managed a couple of bows. Part one and two of the slam complete.
For the the completion of the slam, the Little River is brownie nervana and so I headed below Elkmont in hopes of better water conditions, a hatch, and more willing fish. The rain began to lift and the sun was making a showing by time I got to the parking area where I knew I'd find at least one willing brown. There were already a few anglers about, but non where I was going to put in, so with the para adams still on I plied the currents in a likely run. The water was at least warmer here 56 degrees or so and saw some sporatic hatches of gordons, caddis, and midges. Hopefully the fish would be looking up. A few casts in and a nice fish shot up from the depths and took that fly with authority. It was a great tussle, the rod was bent, the pull was refreshing - this was a nice brownie or so I thought...
A family watching with small kids joined in the fight, cheering me on as I brought the fish in closer. Only to discover it was a very nice, pot bellied rainbow and the brown it fought like - the largest I've ever caught on Little River to be sure (granted, it may have been about a foot long, but this is the Park). However, due to the show and tell for the young ones, there wasn't time for a picture as the fish needed to be released.
As I moved up to the next section of the stretch of water I was hoping to complete before having to go back to the condo, I began searching the dark, slower edges of the river where we've caught some nice browns holding in the past. Sure enough, one did come out to play and from a spot that seems to always hold at least one decent fish. Playing the fish to the waters edge and taking a snapshot completed the slam.
It was the only brown to hand, but it was brilliantly colored and the red edged fins signified all that is wild and what I love about the mountains.After a few more casts, I decided to head out to catch up with family. On the way out I ended up meeting Ray Ball and his crew. Ray's been fishing the Smokies probably longer than anyone out there as he grew up in these hills. Calling him a fishing legend may be a shiny label he wouldn't think of himself as, but his name does come up in various anglers' discussions of storied anglers in context with the history of this park. He is a carasmatic guy that i hope i have half the zest and zeal he does at his age when talking about fly fishing. Ray couldn't stop grinnin' about the stories of the good ol' days, fishing holes on Little River he's named, and tying his beloved calftail parachute flies.
Meeting Ray was icing on the smokey slam cake. Its one fo the reasons I love fishing in the Park. There is such rich, diverse history to the Southern Appalacians and fishing is a part of it. The fact that I can meet someone such as Ray that brings the history of these waters to life makes me that more appreciative and fortunate to haunt the same waters as well.
