After an intense weekend of a NOLS Wilderness First Aid class and four days of insane, chilly winds, I finally found myself hiking and wading late this afternoon. When the wind is so high, it makes it dangerous to be out hiking…and today proved that point as several trees were across the creek in places where I often wade. Plus, the pollen was thick and swirling. I was so ready to be outside, standing in clear water, casting a fly rod.
I’d been wading, hiking, and casting a couple hours with great success and decided to hike upstream a bit further. I was about to pass an area, but felt an intense, magnetic pull to it. I turned around, hiking down a bit, and entered the creek to wade my way back upstream.
Some places just look fishy. This place was primo-fishy with deeper, slower water and a big log for cover. A trout could rest under that log and just wait for the yummy nymphs to flow right into its mouth.
I’d caught and released several rainbows and was enjoying the beauty of the place so deeply that I momentarily zoned out. I cast to the head of the pool and as the flies drifted past the log, a nice-sized rainbow trout took the nymph and a fine dance ensued. As I gently brought the fish to the water at my left boot, I carefully took the hook as the fish remained in the water. It wouldn’t settle so I wet my left hand and carefully grasped the strong body and used my right hand to remove the barbless hook. In those brief moments of contact, I could feel the strength and fierceness of the trout. That untamed wild energy was powerful to feel. Hours later, I still feel it.
It is my hope that I can cultivate that kind of energy within myself and use that fierceness to walk my path with strength and courage. There are fish that make me smile…and then there are those that are fierce. Those are the ones that inspire me.
Today was a special anniversary. Another year has passed since I started fly fishing. I spent 67 days fishing during this time period and each one filled me with profound beauty. Each day deepened my friendship with the creeks, rivers, rocks, trees, trout…and insects.
The beautiful insects trout feed on have captured my heart. Their life stories are incredible with some staying in a nymph stage underwater over a year before emerging into their final form. A few days as a graceful, winged creature and then they mate and die. Such profound symbolism.
I had a lovely mayfly hang out on my sweater for a while as I waded upstream today. Yellow sallies were everywhere, their tiny yellow bodies fluttering like fairies. There were so many insects hatching I had to keep my mouth closed, which was difficult as I kept laughing out loud at the multitudes of flying beauties. Many times my dry fly was floating alongside just-hatched mayflies as they dried their wings before launching into flight.
My heaven. Every part of the ecosystem in harmony with each other. Bliss-in-action. And while it’s fun catching and releasing trout, it’s the place they live in that keeps me coming back. Water. Wild, wonderful, clear, cold water.
Today I hiked and waded nearly 5 miles. Two very fat and sassy fish danced with me—a rainbow and a brown trout. The brown surprised and delighted me as this particular creek is typically a rainbow and brook trout stream…or maybe the browns just don’t show themselves that much for me.
What a thrill to invest my days in such beautiful places. With an open heart, I say THANK YOU! I don’t care how many fish I catch, but I do care how many days I get to spend in this magical place observing the seasons and cycles of Nature as an active part of it.
As I wandered and waded today, I felt a bit off from my usual happy-water-vibe. I couldn’t settle into myself. Couldn’t cast worth anything. I was about to jump on my own case when I heard, like a trickling whisper, The wind is really strong today. It’s okay. It’s very gusty. Just relax and have fun.
So I relaxed and let go of trying to cast perfectly, took off the dropper (nymph fly) and started just playing with a dry fly in the wind. I worked on casting for about an hour. The wind gusted and stopped, gusted and stopped, and I casted and cursed…but only in fun.
I was in a large (for this creek) area so I could actually do a full back cast. I chose different rocks to target and worked on accuracy in the crazy gusts. I didn’t worry about spooking trout because I was just playing around and practicing and had already cast all over the deeper pool and thought I’d scared any trout into hiding.
Even with my casting and quickly stripping line in, a trout started rising in all of that madness and eventually took the dry fly, which totally surprised me after that much chaos in its watery realm. You never know when it comes to trout. (That totally blows every bit of advice on being stealthy while casting).
But it’s not the trout I want to introduce to you, kind reader. Today I want to introduce you to one of my best friends.
It is birthed at 3400 feet above sea level, where Chasm Prong and Gulf Prong come together, miles away from its terminal point at Oconaluftee River. Washout Branch and Bearwallow Branch are two of many small waterways that come together to create my friend, each adding their own unique energy to the ever-growing flow as it moves down, down, down.
When I was feeling out of sorts today, I stopped and looked at the wildflowers blooming, the bright green reflections of new tree leaves in its surface, and the moss-covered rocks around the banks and felt so grateful for the friendship we’ve shared over the past few years.
Sometimes my friend is wild and too crazy to wade in, but days like today, my friend caresses my legs with its 58 degree temperature and makes me feel included, surrounded, part of itself. I can feel discombobulated with crazy monkey-mind shenanigans happening in my head, and my friend calms me, soothes me and points out birdsong nearby…or reminds me that the wind is rather gusty.
The creek has many friends that hang out…trout, bears, birds, wildflowers, snakes, mayflies, trees, moss, rocks…when we all get together it’s a real party.
It’s my sincere hope that all humans can find friends in Nature and visit regularly to have celebrations, dances, and prayer meetings.
All week the forecast grew more and more ominous for Friday. Rain, over an inch, was called for when we made the decision to go for it. It was a guided trip I scheduled months ago to celebrate my birthday. That much rain is no joke in a mountain stream, but sometimes forecasts aren’t right. And sometimes the desire to wade is so strong, it’s difficult to think of anything else to properly celebrate one’s birthday.
When I awakened early on my birthday morning, it was pouring rain. I had packed all my gear the night before as well as a set of dry clothes. Even with wading pants and a decent rain jacket, the chances of getting wet were pretty high. By the time I finished breakfast and fed the dogs and cats, it was time to load the car and ask the dogs to assume their porch beds.
The drive through the national park was very rainy until I crested the gap. After leaving North Carolina and entering Tennessee, the rain lightened. By the time I reached Little River Outfitters, where I was meeting David Knapp of Troutzone Anglers, it was only sprinkling.
We used the large front porch at LRO to put on our waders and wading boots as the parking lot where we were headed would be muddy and more rain was forecast. Better to stay dry as long as possible in 55 degree weather.
The creek we were headed for is in my favorite place on the planet. Sadly, I rarely go there any more because traffic, on the 11 mile one-way loop road, is so insane and slow it’s just not worth the stress. But the rain helped us and kept the tourists to a minimum early in the day. Only one truck stopped in the middle of the road and parked to watch some unknown something. Finally, a tooted horn persuaded them to get out of the way and let the line of traffic behind him progress (sigh).
We made it to the parking lot just as it began to rain heavier. A few flashes of lightning delayed our hiking for about 20 minutes but we sat in the car and talked about guiding and casting instruction and my way forward as a women’s guide.
The sky lightened so we exited the car and got our gear. It was still sprinkling but sometimes the best fly fishing is with overcast skies and a bit of rain.
The creek bottom was difficult to wade. It’s a series of rock shelves, all very slick….snot slick… with small patches of sandy gravel in between with some areas of small, snot-slick rocks. Added to that equation was water discoloration from rain runoff. With a gray sky and no sunlight, the milky glare added to the challenge of seeing the bottom. It was definitely a see-with-your-feet sort of day.
The rainbow trout were incredibly open to dancing with me as David pointed out areas to cast to the creek. He said because it’s a spring creek the nutrient level is high for fish so there is plenty of food for them to thrive.
It was so satisfying to be in my favorite place in Nature on my birthday, in a new-to-me creek, catching and releasing beautiful fish with a guide who is as respectful and appreciative of Nature as I am. I was soaking in the beauty, lost for a moment in gratitude, when a huge mayfly flew past. Huge as in massive.
David captured this image of a Green Drake
It’s not unusual for mayflies to hatch in the spring. But for this species to do it on this particular creek on my birthday was quite a treat. David’s an accomplished guide with many years experience and he’d never seen the green drake show on this creek that began to unfold all around us.
I captured this image of a Green Drake drying those brand new wings on a mossy rock…safer than the water’s surface.
I became so distracted by the hatching and flying mayflies, I lost fish and didn’t care. We exclaimed in awe about this natural wonder many times and when five of these huge insects were fluttering around us at once it was like green drake heaven.
I don’t know if people who aren’t fly fishers get excited about beautiful insects. We’re not only fish nerds, we’re insect nerds…and happy about it. These flying creatures spend up to two years of their lives under water as nymphs. Then they hatch, when conditions are perfect, and emerge from the water. If they are lucky to escape trout, birds, and bats, they mate, lay eggs and die in a few days.
David took this image of a Green Drake nymph casing on my finger…they were floating past us.
The Eastern Green Drake (Ephemera guttulata) nymphs are large and live in the sandy mud of still or flowing waters. They have moveable gills on the abdomen. They spend up to two years in this stage of life. When they began emerging, gases and air collect under their exoskeleton and they are pulled to the water’s surface. When they start molting their exoskeleton splits along the back and they work to pull themselves out. Their wings can finally spread as they float on the water’s surface, allowing their wings to dry and the veins on their wings to fill with fluid. They have no mouth in this stage of life, so they don’t eat.
Another shot by David of the casing
The green drake will molt once more and emerge smaller, more slender with transparent wings and it is during this stage that they mate. After mating during flight, the females lay eggs on the water’s surface and die. Males fly off to the shore where they also die.
Nice shot by David of a newly hatched Green Drake. It looks like it’s lifting up gratitude for surviving a float in trout-infested waters
When I think of this one, small part of Nature and how so much goes on in the lives of these beautiful insects that are food for trout, birds, and bats, I’m rather awe-struck. To witness this event is very meaningful and hopeful as we live in a time where humans have greatly upset the balance of Nature with use of chemicals and toxins that interfere with insects natural reproduction…and without insects, that basic foundation of food for so many lives, humans wouldn’t survive. I’m thinking of bees and other pollinators especially.
I asked David to take a photo of me in my happy place.
Standing in the waters along the creek bank, witnessing the green drakes hatch felt like a glimpse into how Nature should be…healthy, thriving and the interconnectedness of it all working together to create rich, abundant life for all species.
David photographing a Green Drake on a leaf…notice his smile.
I often experience awe and wonder when I’m fly fishing. If I go for a few days without wading and finding the sweetness of life in a mountain stream, I feel off balance. But today, the morning after a day spent with the green drakes and rainbows and everything that creek ecosystem offered, I feel full, sated. My body feels as if it drank sweet nectar and is still in that dreamy place of feeling delight after a most-magnificent meal—perhaps like a trout stuffed with juicy green drakes. I wish I could spend every day exploring and observing the secrets of Nature as they are revealed through colorful fish, rushing water, and species like green drakes.
Green Drake Heaven
I finish this writing at 6.30am, April 8th…the morning after this epic day. As I walked into the kitchen to prepare a cup of cappuccino, I glanced at the clock on the stove. A wave of sadness moved through me as I realized that 24 hours ago I was loading my car to head across the rainy, foggy gap to begin the adventure that I already treasure. But mostly, I feel deep gratitude to live in an amazing place, to have a guide friend that is as appreciative of these places as I am and is mentoring me to become a fly fishing guide, and that I am alive to witness such beauty.
A note about choosing a fly fishing guide: I have such deep reverence for all life and respect every creature I am lucky enough to interact with. Yesterday, I realized that one reason my love of fly fishing has grown so much is I have a guide and mentor that deeply respects Nature and treats trout with care while handling them by keeping them wet, releasing them carefully and not even touching them if it’s not necessary. Had I had the misfortune of connecting with guides that do the grip-and-grin cowboy fly fishing, I probably would have given up long ago. I am so grateful to have a mentor that models respect and reverence.
From behind a large boulder, the tail of the deep pool looked perfect. I picked up the tip of my rod, stripping off line, and did the back cast. Just as the fly began to follow, I glanced down and about 15 feet in front of me a mayfly was emerging from the water. As it gained altitude, a trout did a vertical leap, at least a foot high, but missed the mayfly. By that time, my fly landed right where the mayfly hatched and the trout turned and grabbed the fly.
The timing of this was quite insane. And thrilling. In the span of a few seconds, there was a hatch, followed by an acrobatic leap, and a twisting dismount that positioned the rainbow perfectly to take the fly. This was one of those, I can’t make this up, moments.
Downstream about 300 yards, and 40 minutes previously, I walked up to a favorite stretch of flat water. Just as I cast the line, a large orange-colored bird dive-bombed me. I was watching the drift of the fly and when I pulled it up to re-cast, the same bird flew within a foot of my head…straight to my face. I thought I was near a nest and ducked….but wait a minute. That’s a strange looking bird.
I continued casting and the crazy bird kept chasing the fly and diving between the loop of my fly line. No bird can do that. I missed three or four nice hook sets due to the freakishly orange bat. Yes, a bat. It was fascinating to watch, but was coming a little too close. In my distraction, I lost focus on fishing. I finally figured out if I raised my arms as it flew near, it would veer away.
A big brown bat’s color varies from reddish brown to light brown. This one was out in the late afternoon, early for its nocturnal feeding habits, but I saw this last spring and had one on another nearby river chase the fly. The bat today not only chased the fly and dive-bombed me, it drank water by skimming the surface of the water. Amazing.
It felt like I slipped into some alternate dimension where Nature was trying to see how much beauty I could absorb, how much interaction with trout and bats I could handle.
The little fly that was smoking’ hot today. I tied it with two red hot spots. Elk hair tail and wing, yellow body with red thread and grizzly hackle wrapped around the body.
It was a 5 ½ mile hike with wading being part of that distance. But it seemed as if a door into a world of incredible beauty opened and I happily stepped through it.
The trout were sweet to dance with me and I had several beautiful fish visit for a few seconds, until I gently slipped the barbless hook out of their mouths as they waited patiently in the water. Without hesitation they swam away, and found a rock to brood under while their pride recovered.
Every time I wade and cast a line, it’s good; today, however, was a visit into….The Trout Zone. I was vibrating in harmony with the rocks, water, bat, trout, flowers, blue sky, trees, moss. And hours later, I’m still in a state of blissful peace.
What brings you to a place of peace and calm? I hope you can create space to invite that into your life soon.
