whitetailfreak
Senior Member
To me, Springtime in the mountains is about turkeys and trout and after over 30 years of pursuing both I can confidently say that the later is much more easy on my mental health. After several months of chasing gobblers from the North Georgia Mountains to the hills of Maine I needed to catch a trout. More specifically I needed to catch a wild trout on a dry fly. It had been way too long. After two months of getting out smarted and out maneuverer by a critter with a brain the size of a pea my sanity demanded it. I had some time last Friday before I was to go watch my nephew graduate from high school so lazily I cranked my Tacoma and made the hour or so drive up into the Cherokee NF to a creek I knew well and one that would surely help me regain my confidence as a man. Confidence that turkeys had stolen and trompled on as recently as last week. After descending from elevations over 5k ft and parking my truck I strung my 4 wt glass rod and made my way to the creek.
As usual the first few casts after such a long hiatus are clumsy and made me glad no one was watching. It doesn't take long for the first wild Rainbow to attack my #12 Yaller Palmer.
For 3 hours I caught fish in just about every hole on a variety of dry flys and it didn't take long for the rigors of turkey season to start fading.
Once again catching wild trout on a dry fly proved to be good for what ails you and there's no doubt there's folks in the city who'd pay good money for therapy like that.
As usual the first few casts after such a long hiatus are clumsy and made me glad no one was watching. It doesn't take long for the first wild Rainbow to attack my #12 Yaller Palmer.
For 3 hours I caught fish in just about every hole on a variety of dry flys and it didn't take long for the rigors of turkey season to start fading.
Once again catching wild trout on a dry fly proved to be good for what ails you and there's no doubt there's folks in the city who'd pay good money for therapy like that.
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