Overdue Homecoming in the Smokies-A Good Morning

[NCHillbilly]

My home water has been shut down for four months. I've been having withdrawals. This is the water I learned to fly fish on. The water I caught my first fish on the fly, running through the valley where my ancestors lived. This is the first year since I was probably 12 years old that I haven't been there by this late in the spring.

I checked the GSMNP website yesterday, and found that it was now open, no announcement, no publicity.

Good.

I left home at the crack of daylight this morning, and it was a bit nippy.



I stopped at the store for a honeybun and a pack of crackers, and half an hour later, I was rigging up my nymph rod on the tailgate, listening to running water. My water.
I hiked about a mile downstream, so I could fish back up to my truck.

I waded in before the sun had peeked over the ridge. The first steps into the creek were a little brisk. I woke up quick.



First cast into the first hole yielded a camera-shy 9" brown.



It was good to be back on this creek, fishing water where I know every hole, rock, root, and run. I worked upstream, getting into the rythm as I went. Cast, drift, mend, strike. Fish hit, and were missed, lost, or landed. The sun rose over the ridgetop. Time ceased. I was home. At peace. No matter what kind of craziness was going on outside this foggy valley, once again, for me at the moment- all was right with the world.

To be continued....​

 

[NCHillbilly]

As I worked upstream, I soon lost count of fish. 8"-9" browns were plentiful, but the bigger browns that I know are there eluded me, except for one in the mid-teens, briefly hooked, and soon unbuttoned.





The rainbows were on fire, though. Fat, colorful, feisty ones. They were averaging 9"-11" and many of them were fat as little footballs. They fought like demons, each one jumping multiple times.











The last one came from a dark, deep spot under this huge boulder covered with thousands of rockcap ferns:

To be continued...​

 

[NCHillbilly]

As the sun got higher, I reached the truck. I decided to head upstream a few miles and do some dry fly fishing.

Fire pinks were blooming along the trail as I hiked a ways upstream:



It was getting hot, but almost every hole yielded a small rainbow or brown. Not the size of the ones caught earlier on nymphs in the bigger water, but lots of fun to watch them come up and attack the dry.





After I had fished for an hour or so, catching and releasing the small trout, I saw an arc of red fins when a trout rose to my fly. When I landed the speck, I realized that it truly was good to be home, and that it was time to quit. It was the icing on the cake of a great morning.



Before long I was back at my house, but I know that home still lies just over the ridge. I've missed this place terribly. It grounds me, and for half a century, this valley has embraced my life like sycamore roots gradually grown around a mossy grayback boulder. I couldn't get loose from it if I wanted to.

Fin​

 

[whitetailfreak]

Great morning that I know you've been waiting on. The lack of pressure the last 3 months along with near perfect conditions was a perfect storm for the fish to cooperate. I love those big ol' streamside Sycamores with root systems that engulf everything around and seem to never end. Great post NCH.

 

[splatek]

Man, that makes me miss the Smokies so darn much.
A trip is way overdue!
Thanks for the reminder.
Those fish are gorgeous!

 

[trad bow]

Beautiful place. Our forefathers sure did live in some beautiful country. Thanks for carrying us along.

 

[blood on the ground]

Man what great day!

 

[Burdawg]

another great read...and as always, the scenery and fish are beautiful. I got to get back up there...

 

[Taxman]

That green lichen looks very cool.

 

[dawg]

Awesome

 

[antharper]

Man what some beautiful fish !!! And great story , congrats , maybe u don’t have to wait so long to get back !

 

[Michael F Sights]

Great pictures & write up! Thanks!

 

[35 Whelen]

“There are corners of this green footstool which men look upon with more than mere gratefulness — places where they feel deeply at home. Let all of them choose their own inviolate acres. Along the banks of the raging Rogue, or in the pine-clad hills of Alabama. All of the close-to-earth hunting and fishing men know their chosen places.”
— “We Shall Gather by the Icehouse”
Gordon MacQuarrie

 

[Unicoidawg]

Now that is a trip. Awesome fish.

 

[Wayne D Davis]

Awesome story and beautiful trout. I see a trip to sky valley area in the near future. Thanks for the ride!

 

[Worley]

Great story buddy, thanks for letting us journey with ya.

 

[SC Hunter]

The way you articulated your feelings through your writings is awesome! The way you feel about the mountains is how I feel about the swamps down here. We were born 100 years to late. The mountains are my 2nd favorite place in the world other than home. Thank you for the story and congratulations on the fishing trip at "home".

 

[NCHillbilly]

The way you articulated your feelings through your writings is awesome! The way you feel about the mountains is how I feel about the swamps down here. We were born 100 years to late. The mountains are my 2nd favorite place in the world other than home. Thank you for the story and congratulations on the fishing trip at "home".

The SC Low Country is my favorite place I've been other than home.

 

[SC Hunter]

The SC Low Country is my favorite place I've been other than home.

I've actually never been to the low country of South Carolina. The SC in my screen name is for Schley County. I cut my teeth hunting and fishing along the Flint River, Muckalee and Muckalooche Creeks. The river and creek bottoms have my heart but the mountains, man I love the mountain hollers!

 

[NCHillbilly]

I've actually never been to the low country of South Carolina. The SC in my screen name is for Schley County. I cut my teeth hunting and fishing along the Flint River, Muckalee and Muckalooche Creeks. The river and creek bottoms have my heart but the mountains, man I love the mountain hollers!

Gotcha. Love it down that way, too.