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. 

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 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. 

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.

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.

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. 

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. 

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.

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.