Old Dogs, New Tricks - "Discovering" the Chattooga

Well, you might say I've been dragged kicking and screaming into the 21st century of fly fishing.  And I'll have to admit that my resistance has been due to my own prejudices.  Mind you, I'm a nymph fisherman from way back so getting down has never been an issue for me.  What I didn't like was this new "Euro" stuff with long (really long!) leaders, brightly colored line segments called "sighters", no split shot (NO SPLITSHOT!) and light weight, super long fly rods like 10 foot 3 and 4 weights.  What happened to casting?  I love casting a fly rod!  It's a vital part of my fly fishing experience.  Shoot, if the fish are biting, I can have fun just practicing my cast.  Maybe not quite as much fun as catching but I ain't bored.  Casting a Euro rig is like throwing pumpkins with a catapult.  No beautiful loops unrolling over the river.  No gentle presentation of a weightless fly on the water.  If they had used Euro nymphing in "A River Runs Through It", no one would have ever gone to see the movie.  You just fling that sucker behind you, wait until it almost pulls the rod out of your hand then fling it forward.  At the last second on the forward cast, you abruptly stop the rod tip high so your flies are literally jerked down into the water with more momentum than a .22 bullet headed to the bottom.  THUNK!
 The promised land where more fish than you could have ever imagined are just sitting there amongst the rocks waiting on that Walt's Worm at the end of your line.  Does this sound like fun to you?  Maybe, but it has a lot to do with how old you are.  And therein lies a significant problem.

I'm past the midway point of my seventh decade on this big blue marble.  I've been here longer than I'm gonna be and for considerably more than half of this time I've been fly fishing.  Fly fishing the way you're supposed to fly fish.  No, not that narrow-minded British idea of only fishing dry flies, upstream, to rising fish.  I'm talking about the way we do it here in America.  The right way.  Dry flies when appropriate, dry droppers when you don't have a clue what's going on, or two nymphs with split shot and a strike indicator when you're really serious about rippin' lips.  We all know this.  It's how we've always done it so it's got to be right.

Many of you may recall a few weeks back when Unicoi Outfitters invited George and Amidea Daniel down for a couple of days of seminars based on George's book "Dynamic Nymphing".  I liked these folks from the first time I met them and figured we could give their career a big boost by having them come to Georgia.  Not that I was particularly interested in what he had to say, just wanted to be nice.  Plus, I'm not stupid.  I do realize the younger crowd is enamored with his techniques so it would increase traffic in the shop.  Worked like a charm.  We had a great weekend with them and I got an autographed copy of his book.  Figured maybe one day it would be a collectors item.

So, back to the topic at hand.  I apologize for the long explication but I needed to set the stage.  My fishing pal Jeff Durniak (aka The Dredger) was headed to the Chattooga this past Saturday and invited me to join him.  Curiously, he informed me that he was taking his new Euro-nymphing rod with the intention of trying out some of the things George had spoken about in the seminars.  I'm thinking, "Why?".  You already spend most of your time fishing on the bottom and, as we all know, you're pretty darn successful at it.  You're just trying to act like a youngun but I know you're almost as old as I am.  Maybe a decade or so less but you're old.

The next three hours can only be described by stating, "A whoopin' was a throwed on me."  I didn't have a bad afternoon at all but I have to tell you that Mr. Euro probably caught at least 4 fish to every one I caught.  And, uh, two of the fish I caught were using his rod.  You know, the whole technique is just kind of funky but I have to admit there is something intriguing about feeling those flies bumping along the bottom and, even more, detecting a subtle strike through that tight line.  I'm not really into counting fish or declaring my success or failure based on how many fish I catch.  But I could be convinced to add another club to my bag of trout tricks.  Who knows, maybe I'm not as old a dog as I thought.  Now pardon me while I check my catalogs to see which new rod I want to buy.

It's Not "If" But "When" Redux

Please don't try this at home!

Ed. Note:  Re-published by popular demand
Many of you know that my claim to fame is that I've taken naps on some of the most famous trout streams in North and South America.  It's an honor I accept proudly and hope to expand my resume' in the coming seasons.  But as I bask in the sunny glory of my accomplishments it is becoming obvious to me that advancing years are opening up another category for me; taking unplanned dunks in many of those same streams.

I could blame it on an inner ear thing.  A couple of years back I was climbing out of the Chattahoochee River after some shoal bass fishing and as I got both feet up on the bank I simply began to fall backwards for no apparent reason.  Fell off a four foot bank flat on my back on a big rock in the river.  Ouch!  I honestly thought I had broken some ribs.  And this was about 3 days before I was headed to Yellowstone.  Thankfully, I was just bruised and scraped up a little.  Turns out I did have an inner ear problem so I didn't have to chalk that one up to getting older.

I could also blame it on the fish.  While fishing the Madison River with my friend Don Baldwin in 2008, I hooked a nice rainbow in a riffle just upstream of a section of rapids where the river diverted around a huge boulder and logjam.  Of course the fish immediately took off for the rapids and with the force of the river helping her, it was impossible for me to get her back upstream to me so I decided to carefully pick my way around the boulder while holding on to the log.  It's funny how having a good fish on the end of your line can make you do irrational things.  As I got half way into my maneuver, I realized there was no bottom beneath my feet.  I see Don running to put his gear on the bank and hear another angler nearby yell, "Are you going to help him?".  Don's reply, "Heck no, I'm getting my camera!"

My only other option as I see it is to blame these events on, as my eye doctor told me, too many birthdays.  It's difficult to accept this one but it may be true.  This past Saturday, after a fine low country boil lunch with the Rabunites on the Chattooga River, I hit the Delayed Harvest section about 2:00 for an afternoon on the most beautiful river in the southeast.  It was one of those days where I literally did not care if I caught anything or not.  I really do have those!  I found myself an hour and a half later still working the same pool.  It's one of the deepest pools on the river, the water was crystal clear and I could see several big fish sitting near the bottom.  I got into my hard-headed mode and decided to keep changing things up until I got one.  Never happened.  One dinky rainbow was the only one I fooled.  But back to my story.  I was standing on a ledge on the east side of the river overlooking the pool and turned around to walk out.  In my mind, all this happened in slow motion when my right boot began to slide off the edge.  I suppose I could have thrown my body backwards and landed in 18" of water on the ledge but your mind will trick you into thinking you'll regain control, catch your balance and walk safely out.  Never trust your own mind in these circumstances!

Remember, the pool I've been fishing is a good 8 or 10 feet deep, right off the ledge, sudden drop.  I'm now swimming...in 46º water!  Invigorating but not recommended.  You need to understand, I didn't stumble and catch myself then stood up.  I was FLOATING!  If anyone was near enough to see me, I didn't notice but I'm sure they've got stories of "the crazy fly fisherman up in that big hole up there."  I realized all I could do was float downstream until I could touch bottom but I'm laughing hysterically as I'm floating.  What else can you do?  It had to be a funny thing to see.  Honestly, the only part of me that wasn't wet was the very top of my hat.  The rest of my hat was wet from being underwater.

Easing out of the river looking like a haggard muskrat, I was grateful for the wading pants I was wearing because they were tightly cinched up around my waist and prevented me from taking on a serious amount of water.  The velcro adjustable waist worked equally as well as a belt would have.  That was fortunate.  To give you an idea of how foolish part of your brain can be, I actually considered going back out and fishing more.  That would have been nothing short of stupid!  Sure it was a beautiful mid-60's afternoon but when the sun started going behind the ridge in an hour or so, the temperature would drop significantly.  A clearer mind came to me from somewhere and I walked the mile or so to my truck.

Now, here's the point of this story.  I was unprepared.  During the winter months, I always keep a duffle bag of dry clothes, an extra jacket and even a towel for those really drenching moments as Saturday turned out to be.  But I hadn't switched to winter mode fishing this past weekend and I had nothing in my truck to change into or even dab a little river water off with.  Many of you have heard my diatribe about wearing a wading belt at all times so I wont' get into that topic again.  What I do want to encourage you to do is put together an emergency bundle of dry clothes (preferable something that will help you warm up like fleece) and keep it in your vehicle at all times.  You owe it to yourself and to your family.  I could have been in serious trouble if it had been cold and I was miles up the Chattooga River alone.  Hypothermia is a deadly thing and it doesn't have to be 32º and you soaking wet to kick in.  It could just as easily happen on a 55º day under the right conditions.


And if you think you won't fall in because you never have, think again, Kemosabi.  As the title of this post says, "It's not if, it's when!"  If you wade fish, you will fall in!  So be prepared.  Know your own capabilities, don't hesitate to use a wading staff, always use a wading belt and, above all, keep a set of dry clothes in your vehicle!  This is the voice of experience talking to you.  Listen to it!

Georgia's Delayed Harvest Streams Open Saturday November 1st

Fall Offers Great Georgia Trout Fishing Opportunities - Delayed Harvest Streams Open Nov. 1

Today's feature comes to us from the Georgia Wildlife Resources Division.

GAINESVILLE, Ga. -- Are trout streams calling you to go fish Georgia? Beautiful weather and fantastic scenery await you in the northern part of the state and beginning on November 1, fishing on five delayed harvest trout streams will open, according to the Georgia Department of Natural Resources' Wildlife Resources Division.

Trout streams are designated either seasonal or year-round. "Five year-round streams are managed under special regulations called Delayed Harvest," said John Lee Thomson, Wildlife Resources Division trout stocking coordinator. "The 'DH' streams have special catch-and-release regulations from November 1-May 14, and are stocked monthly by WRD and our partner, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. This combination of stocking and catch/release allows for good trout catch rates and high angler satisfaction."

The five trout streams managed under delayed harvest regulations are:

• Toccoa River located on U.S. Forest Service land upstream of Lake Blue Ridge in Fannin County (from 0.4 miles above Shallowford Bridge to 450 feet above the Sandy Bottom Canoe Access).
  
• Amicalola Creek on the Dawson Forest Wildlife Management Area (from Steele Bridge Road downstream to Georgia Hwy. 53).
  
• Smith Creek downstream of Unicoi Lake (Unicoi State Park).
  
• Chattahoochee River in Atlanta (Sope Creek, downstream of Johnson Ferry Road, downstream to the Hwy 41 bridge).
  
• A portion of the Chattooga River (from Ga. Hwy. 28 upstream to the mouth of Reed Creek) on U.S. Forest Service land bordering South Carolina.

"Remember, during delayed harvest, anglers on these five streams also are restricted to artificial lures with one single hook," Thomson adds. "When May 15rolls around, the general regulations to designated trout water apply."

In addition to the excellent fall fishing opportunities that these delayed harvest streams provide, other Georgia streams offer ample year-round trout fishing. These streams are:

• Noontootla Creek Watershed: This watershed offers high-quality, year-round fishing for wild brown and rainbow trout, with many of its tributaries offering a chance at a wild brook trout (a real plus since most other brook trout waters are closed to fishing after Oct. 31). Both Noontootla and its tributaries are managed under an artificial lure only regulation and have a 16" minimum size limit in order to "recycle" the 8"-12" trout that make up most of the population.
  
• Dukes Creek: This stream, located on the Smithgall Woods-Dukes Creek Conservation Area, offers year-round trout fishing by reservation (706-878-3087). All fish caught here must be released immediately and anglers can only use artificial lures with barbless hooks. The stream offers a great chance at a trout over 20 inches, so bring your camera for a quick shot before release. Best time to fish is after a rain muddies the water.
  
• Chattahoochee River: For good trout fishing close to metro Atlanta, the Chattahoochee River downstream of Buford Dam offers family-friendly, year-round fishing for stocked rainbow and wild brown trout. The Chattahoochee River National Recreation Area parks offer good bank, wading and boating opportunities. The river will be stocked through the fall months to keep angler catches high. Year-round harvest is legal from Buford Dam to Sope Creek. Anglers should note that there is an artificial lure only section between Ga. Hwy 20 and the Medlock Bridge Boat Ramp. Best fishing is at low flow when the river is clear to slightly stained.
  
  
• Some additional notable year-round trout streams include the Toccoa River downstream of Lake Blue Ridge, Tallulah River and the Chattooga River.

Anglers must possess a current Georgia fishing license as well as a trout license to fish for these beauties. By purchasing a license as well as fishing equipment and related items, you and your fellow anglers have helped fund sport fish restoration programs for years, thanks to the Sport Fish Restoration Act. This Act allows funds accumulated from a federal excise tax on fishing equipment and related items to be directed to activities that benefit recreational anglers. A portion of these funds is provided to the Georgia Department of Natural Resources based on several factors, including the number of paid sporting licenses. Sport Fish funds make the following activities possible: managing sport fish populations, raising freshwater fish in hatcheries and stocking them in public waters, maintaining and operating public fishing areas and building boat ramps and fishing piers, and much more!

Where can you get a fishing license? Buy it online or find a list of retail license vendors at www.georgiawildlife.com/licenses-permits-passes or buy it by phone at 1-800-366-2661.

For free Georgia trout stream maps, trout fishing tips and other trout fishing information, visit www.georgiawildlife.com/Fishing/Trout .

40-Year Old Memories & the Chattooga River

Spring-like, heck, summer-like weather this weekend was too much of an allure to get on the river and I ended up fishing the Chattooga both Saturday and Sunday.  All day Saturday with my friend Alan Juncker and Sunday afternoon with Mark Whitney.  Saturday morning at 7:05 AM I get a text from Alan saying he's just north of Athens and headed to the Chattooga.  Asks if I want to join him.  Forty-five minutes later we're throwing all our gear into one vehicle and Chattooga bound.

For about three hours, we pretty much had the river to ourselves.  What a beautiful morning it was.  My mind flashed back to 1968 and my first trout fishing trip to north Georgia during spring break at UGA.  That first cool morning when I stepped up to a small mountain stream and smelled the aromatic mix of dew and the richness of decaying organic matter.  The cold water providing a chill to the air in the stream corridor.  We didn't own waders back then and only one guy in the group had a fly rod.  The rest of us were spin fishing but I knew right then that this was something special.

Thankfully, I've never lost that feeling over all the years and it was as if I were stepping back into that small stream Saturday morning.  Only this time I had my 4 wt. in hand and hoping for dry flies and rises.  We walked a good ways upstream to one of my favorite corners, seeing only one other angler along the way.  I wanted fish on dries but I hedged my bet with a soft hackle hares ear dropper since no bugs were coming off and no fish rising.

All morning the action was steady with about half coming on my tan caddis dry and half on the hares ear.  Most fish were caught in the shallow riffles, the most enjoyable water to fish in my opinion.  For a couple of hours at mid-day, things slowed down markedly but began to pick back up around 2:00.  With the early start to the day, we planned on leaving around 4:00 to head back home and began fishing our way back downstream.

You could tell that the fishing was going to be picking up as the afternoon wore on.  In another of my favorite riffles, we had picked up several fish on the hares ears that we were now fishing under indicators. At the very top of the run, my orange Thingamabobber was inhaled by a nice fish.  The next cast was a repeat of the first with the fish taking it completely out of sight  before releasing it.  I was sure it was a big brown simple looking for a big wad of protein.

Changing to a hopper pattern with orange foam, I got at least a half dozen follows but no takes.  Okay, we'll go with more orange.  I'm thinking a Stimulator but notice an Orange Palmer in my box and go with it.  Smaller but definitely more orange.  The first cast, just as the fly was about to float out of the zone, and the big fish makes one of those slow motion rises to gently inhale the fly and the tussle is on.  As I catch a glimpse of the fish, I'm thinking "That's no brown." but it doesn't exactly look like a rainbow either.  A few minutes later I slide my net under a big, very pretty brook trout.  What a great way to end the day!

Sunday afternoon I get an invitation from Mark to attend his birthday party.  He planned to spend it standing in the Chattooga.  I can't disappoint my friend on his birthday!  As we pull into the parking lot, the weather goes really bad with lightning and hail pounding the area.  It was relatively short lived and we were soon on the river.  Using Saturday as a guide, I go right back to the dry/dropper rig; a tan elk hair caddis with a bead head hares ear hanging off the back.  This afternoon, there is almost no interest in the dry with only two fish rising to it.  But a lot of fish were caught on the nymph.  Few bugs were seen in the air so I'm sure that had something to do with the fish not looking up.  I used the same hares ear all afternoon, never feeling a need to change to something different.  It was that consistent.  This afternoon we stayed on the river until about 30 minutes before dark and never saw over a half dozen rises.

I think things will continue to get even better in the next couple of weeks as more bugs begin to hatch.  There are small dun caddis, blue dun mayflies, March browns, dark Hendricksons and even some light cahills popping out of the water right now.  It's a great time to be on the Chattooga, early morning or late afternoon.    

Dry Flying the Chattooga

Report Provided by Alan Juncker (a charter member of the Liars Club)

I finally got in the river at 6:20 last night and went upstream to try for a re-match with the nice fish Jimmy and I both had rise to, but refuse, our dry flies last week.

There was not much bug activity and I only saw a few rises in the 2 hours I was there.  It was unseasonably warm. Started out with a Parachute Adams and a small Pheasant Tail dropper but ended up switching to a double dry pretty soon after having a couple of refusals on the dry. I went to a smaller Adams and picked up a fish right away.







The big guy did not come out to play this time but I did bring three rainbows and one brown to hand, all in the 9-10" range.  

Water was crystal clear, had the river to myself and only saw two guys camping on the SC side.  It was a beautiful evening and the tree in the parking lot was in full bloom when I arrived. Walked out at 8:00 and definitely was glad the batteries on my clip on hat light were still good.  Definitely "dark thirty" getting back to the parking lot.

Just Another Day In Paradise

If you'll recall my post last week on fishing the Chattooga River New Years' Day, reference was made to the old saying that whatever you do on the first day of the year is what you'll do most often throughout that year.  Not one to trifle with folklore, and certainly not one to pass on a 60 degree day with 30% chance of rain, I gave in to a plea from my friend Alan to fish it again this past Saturday.  Am I seeing a pattern develop here?

Neither of us wanted to fish until dark-thirty because of family and football obligations.  After a bacon & egg biscuit (3 eggs & a half pound of bacon) at Shore's in Baldwin, we left Cornelia at 8:15 headed north.  The plan was to fish the upper end of the DH so we made the 30 minute hike in on the Georgia side.  This helps us avoid the temptation to stop at every good looking spot and fish plus gets your heart pumping hard enough to move the colesterol that biscuit was dumping into my blood stream.

We pop out on the river bank at one of my favorite holes only to find someone beat us there.  We could have stepped in just below him with at least 50 yards between us but lately I seem to have become hyper sensitive to a lack of stream etiquette so we went downstream a good quarter mile before hopping in.  The water temp as we stepped in was a balmy 40 degrees and the sun wasn't hitting the river directly yet so we would probably be doing more casting than catching for a while.  Or maybe not!

As I sat on the bank rigging up, Alan stepped into the riffles where I had caught the big brown last Sunday.  A few minutes later he had the first fish of the day; a pretty 9" rainbow.  This is a great stretch of river, beautiful with perfect water to hold fish.  As I begin working the lower end of the run, Alan hooks into a nicer fish.  Could it be the big 'un?  Sure giving his 4 wt. a workout.  After a couple of minutes, he brings a beautiful brown to the net.  Beautiful but not the ONE!

Observing his success with the basic Y2K Bug, my superior skills and intellect kick in and I replace my stonefly dropper with a Y2K Bug.  Before I could even cast it, Alan was whooping it up as his rod bent double with his third fish.  "Nice fish!" Alan yelled as I pitched my rod up on the bank and worked my way upstream to watch the struggle.  Indeed, it was the big brown again; all 18 inches measured with a tape this time to confirm the size.  Absolutely gorgeous fish with big spots.  Nice to see you again, Babe.  Now stay away from those Y2K Bugs.

The thought runs through my head, "Can I fish now?"  Not really, but it could have in a lesser man.  Retrieve the rod, cast upstream of that one dark area and let it drift through.  Bam! Fish on!  Y2K Bug to the rescue.  Another brown, albeit a 10-incher.  A few casts later my indicator makes a sharp jerk upstream and I gently set the hook on a 17" brown.  What a great way to start the day!

As we began working our way upstream toward the now vacant pool, you couldn't help but be thankful for being where we were, doing what we were doing.  Such a magnificent place.  What a tremendous resource in our backyard.  The fishing continued to yield a few more browns and a small rainbow now and then until we took a lunch break.  We spied some truly huge fish but all we could get was a follow or two from them.  I did manage to hook into one more big brown that was probably in the 15" - 16" range but it straightened the hook on my Y2K.  Again, the afternoon turned slow as it had last Sunday but you won't hear any complaints from either of us.  A day on the Chattooga is good for the soul.

New Year's Day, 2012

The old story is that whatever you're doing on the first day of the new year is what you'll find yourself doing most often throughout the year.  Not ones to leave anything to chance, Jeff Durniak and I beat a path to the Chattooga River on Sunday hoping to enjoy one last day of spring-like weather before winter finally rolls into north Georgia.  Pulling into the South Carolina parking lot, we were encouraged to find only three other vehicles.  As we're getting geared up, a white sedan pulls in and out hops a young fellow obviously anxious to hit the river.  Never one to shy away from a conversation with other anglers, Jeff begins asking questions right away.

"What's your name?"

"Kevin"

"Where are you from?"

"Paw Paw, Michigan but I'm visiting my sister in Anderson.  I mostly fish for steelhead but needed to get out on a stream somewhere and this is the closest one."

"What rod do you have?"

"Ha!  Well, all I have with me is a 7 weight."

"That's okay, we'll just stand on the bank behind you and catch the fish as you yank them out of the river."

By the time we left the parking lot, Kevin was in tow as our new fishing buddy and Jeff's telling him embarrassing stories about some of my previous fishing exploits.  At least he's limiting it to fishing stories so I'm relieved.  We give Kevin a brief seminar on fishing the Chattooga in gin clear water conditions with the backup plan to come find us upstream if things aren't working out.

For Jeff and me, things begin working out right away.  As he sits on the bank rigging up, I immediately hook into a fish with my double nymph rig.  At the same time, Jeff's noticing a few bugs hovering over the river and even sees a flash of silver below the surface as a rainbow considers coming up for the stonefly and changes its mind at the last moment.  As Jeff wades into the water, I ask what he's tied on.  The smile on his face hints that he's going to fish a dry fly.... on January first!

I move downstream to one of my favorite runs where another angler has just exited the river.  Before I make my first cast, Jeff is hooting Rabunite style as he's hooked his first of many fish on the #14 Parachute Adams.  My nymph rig proceeds to provide me with the hat trick (rainbow, brown and brookie) from this great little spot so we're both hooting and hollering up and down the river.  Anyone who's never fished with a Rabunite would have thought we were still celebrating the New Year.  We were, the only difference is that we were high on life.

A short while later, Kevin rounds the bend.  He's hooked three or four and brought one of them to hand.  We spend the rest of the afternoon fishing with Kevin and are amazed at his line management skills, a must when steelheading.  We all continue catching fish in with our own personal techniques.  Jeff and I getting an education on how to get long, drag-free drifts and Kevin learning the art of dredging with 12' to 15' leaders.

All in all it was a great day on the river.  Not a tremendous number of fish caught but enough to keep us there until dark.  Jeff landed a big brown that almost spooled him when hooked in the pectoral fin and I netted a big, pretty 18-inch brown from a shallow riffle on a blue stonefly nymph pattern.  I had no camera so you'll just have to take my word for it.  And best of all, we made a new friend on the river.  Can a year get off to a better start?

 

For A Brief Moment, I Was the Heron!

My friend Jeff Durniak is fond of telling anglers new to the sport that, to be successful, they need to observe the best angler on the river and "Be the heron."  In other words, assume a stealth mode when approaching the area you intend to fish.  It's something most experienced anglers do instinctively...most of the time.  

On Friday, Alan Juncker and I hit the Chattooga DH around mid-day, hoping the sun would have warmed things up enough to trigger some feeding activity.  Unfortunately, after a long afternoon of changing flies, adding split shot, adjusting strike indicators, lengthening leaders, resting on the bank in a small dot of sun-warmed sand and moss, but little catching, I decided the warmth and comfort of my Tahoe was more appealing than watching the sun drop behind the ridge.

Crossing the river back over to the South Carolina side, I glanced downstream to where I had begun the day; that nice deep run below a steep, shallow riffle.  I had struck out there right before lunch.  Was it due to the 43 degree water temperature?  Who knows but it's worth one more try.  Stepping into the top of the riffle, I stop to study the run from above.  Almost instantly I notice a splashy commotion in the riffle.  Some kind of fish is working it's way through the shallows like a spawning salmon.  Standing dead still, I watch as it squiggles through the cobblestones...right to my feet!  As it rested in the small eddy of my right leg, I looked down on a big, brightly colored male brookie.  Does he even see me?  Is he blind?  

For at least five minutes, I stand frozen looking down on the beautiful white-tipped fins, the classic vermiculated worm patterns on his back and his huge toothy kype jaw methodically opening and closing. Everything goes through my mind.  I think I can reach down and grab him.  No, grappling for trout is illegal. If I had my net, I could just dip him up.  But I think seining is illegal also and, besides, I didn't bring a net. This is too weird not to try something.  All this time, my rod is hanging in the crook of my left elbow, reel to the front, rod behind me.  I wonder what would happen if I could drop my fly in front of him?  But how do I get in position without scaring him?  Slowly I unhook my fly from the guide and grasp the handle of my rod in my left hand.  Picture this; rod tip pointing upstream across the back of my shoulders with the leader and flies hanging in the current below my right knee.  Still watching the fish hanging at my feet.  Getting a fly to go where you want it in moving water while pointing the rod in the opposite direction ain't as easy as it sounds.  The little hares ear nymph dropper fly keeps rising to the surface and the brookie apparently never sees it.

Now I'm looking around to see if any other anglers have spotted me.  My contorted body must look like I'm suffering a seizure right in the middle of the river.  Would they realize I'm being the heron?  Whew!  No one in sight.  I'm going to be more aggressive. Slowly I take a step backwards, then another.  The fish, likewise, slowly moves the same distance away from me.  We're about a rod length apart now and I've got more options.  Since he obviously knows I'm not a mid-stream rock, I'm confident he won't take my fly.   What the heck, I'll put it in front of him anyhow.  Holding my rod out horizontally, I watch only my olive woolly bugger drift down in the crystal clear water to within 6 inches of the big mouth.  Like a puppy snapping at a Milk Bone biscuit, he surges forward and  crushes the fly!  Whoa!  Now he's fully aware of my intentions and does not want any part of it.  Only minutes earlier we were the closest of companions, my right boot provided respite from the exhausting path through the riffle. Now we're battling in the current; strong fat-bodied fish against nine feet of bent graphite and 5X tippet.  I give just enough to let him swing out into a calm area where he doesn't have the help of rushing water.  From there I ease the big fish into a puddle of water bounded by humps of golden grass and release the pressure. He's safe and resting comfortably in the small pocket so I dig out my cell phone for a couple of quick photos.  A gentle belly rub and I release him carefully to resume his journey.  What a bizarre vignette in an afternoon on the most beautiful wild river in Georgia.  I think I'll be back again soon.

Chattooga in the Fall

My friend Alan Juncker and I both needed to go stand in a river for a few hours on Saturday. The weight of a week of real work was pressing on our shoulders so we mutually agreed that the Chattooga River would provide the antidote. Our plan was to leave Cornelia at 8:30 AM and be fishing shortly after 10:00 when the sun began to warm things up a little. As we donned our gear at Burrell's Ford, an overnight camper told us his thermometer read 37 degrees when he awoke earlier. Sounds like we made a good decision so far. Even though the leaf color was beyond peak performance, it was still spectacular as we walked in to find the perfect spot to begin. Crystal clear water, with a few leaves, coursed through the granite chutes and tumbled through riffles and plunge pools, drowning out the conversations of the office still rattling around in my head.

A few bugs were coming off, nothing to get excited about but a sure sign that the sun was working its magic in bringing the stream to life for another day. I had my plan all set; dries and droppers all day. A hefty Royal Stimulator trailed by a Soft Hackle Hares Ear about 20 inches back started and ended my day. It was a beautiful day to be on the Chattooga, as most are. The weather was perfect and I only fell in once. Actually, it wasn't a fall but rather a slow, controlled sit-down with only my arms getting wet. Felt soles are still better than rubber.

My morning began working pocket water as I slowly got the kinks out of my body but 15 minutes into the day I made a cast mid-stream to a perfect riffle where I hoped a trout may be grubbing around for bugs in the well oxygenated water. On my second cast, the Stimulator hesitates and I lift my rod tip to the resistance of a fish; a good fish! I give an obligatory holler down to Alan that I have a nice fish on. It took the Hares Ear which happened to be tied to 6X Fluorocarbon. As I reach behind my back to grab my net, I realize I left it hanging in my garage and this fish isn't going to provide me with an opportunity to land him by hand any time soon. But Alan is much wiser than I and he has a net waiting downstream. I carefully maneuver the fish between boulders until I'm close enough to let him drift into Alan's submerged net. "Nice fish! Big brown!", he said. What a way to start the day! Using my outstretched fingers as a ruler, I calculated the fish to be right at 15 inches. The folks in Rabun County who have fished this river for over five decades call this strain an "old time original" brown with sparse but beautiful large spots. What a great day already.

As the sun continued to warm things, we picked up a few more fish. Some stocked rainbows and more wild browns. Some on pheasant tails but the overwhelming majority of the fish fell for the Hares Ear, whether soft hackle or regular bead head. In a little over four hours of fishing, we probably caught 15 or 16 fish but today wasn't about numbers. It was about that water flowing past your legs and renewing your spirit. It was about a day on one of the most beautiful trout streams in north America with a good friend you haven't fished with in a while. The catching was simply an added blessing.

Chattooga Gold

There's no question the Chattooga River running between Georgia and South Carolina is a very special place. It was, in fact, the very first river in the country to receive the designation of a "Wild and Scenic River" by the federal government and has been protected from abuse and development ever since. I've fished a lot of spectacular trout streams across United States and, quite honestly, none are more beautiful than the Chattooga. Just as an expectant mother glows radiantly and becomes even more beautiful during that distinctive time, Fall on the Chattooga River brings an exquisite allure to my home river. Sunday afternoon Jeff Durniak and I made the lazy drive north to Rabun County and the mostly east journey on Warwoman Road as you switch back and forth around Rabun Bald. We had planned all along to hike above Burrell's Ford Bridge but we did take time to check the parking lots around the Hwy. 28 bridge just to see if folks were getting out of the house on this beautiful afternoon. All lots were full but we only saw one angler. It was, after all, a great day for hiking as well as fishing.

We arrived at Burrell's Ford Bridge at 1 PM. Air temperature was 48° as was the water temp. Both held steady all afternoon. With a little layering of Capilene and Windstopper fleece, I was very comfortable. My only mistake was forgetting to throw a ball cap in the car. All I had was a wool beanie which was perfectly comfortable but I never truly realized how much glare the bill of a ball cap cuts out. Note to self: don't get so excited about going fishing that you forget vital pieces of equipment. The last time this happened was about twenty years ago when I hiked in to Big Bend Falls before realizing I had left my reel in the car. I suppose such an oversight every twenty years can be tolerated. At least this time I was able to fish.

While Jeff immediately went deep (the nickname "Dredger" is no misnomer), I tied on a big attractor dry with a pheasant tail dropper. Almost immediately I had a rainbow rise to the dry but I missed the strike. That was encouragement enough to convince me to stay with my rig...unfortunately. For the next hour and a half, nothing. Switch to a big stone fly nymph and drop the pheasant tail off the back. "Bam!", nice rainbow. Okay, I can play that game, although I didn't really want to.

For the next three hours, we steadily picked up fish here and there but mostly in the deeper runs with moderate current. And while we really wanted to target wild browns, the rainbows were more aggressive on this trip. But the highlight of the day was a beautiful 14" brown the Rabunites refer to as an old-timey original with buttery gold cheeks and belly that mirrored the gold in the streamside hickory and poplar trees. It was a day for making memories!

This Just In...

August 26, 2009 (FMS 0907) FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Forest Service Officials Announce Final Decision on Recreation Uses on the Upper Chattooga

Final alternative allows some new limited boating opportunities on the upper river

(Columbia, SC) August 26, 2009—After considerable analysis and public involvement, US Forest Service officials announced today a final decision on managing recreation uses on the upper Chattooga River and released the Environmental Assessment (EA) entitled Managing Recreation Uses on the Upper Chattooga. The final decision reflects Alternative 4 analyzed in the EA.

“A few minor changes were made to the preferred Alternative 4 released in July, 2008,” said Acting Forest Supervisor for the Francis Marion and Sumter National Forests Monica Schwalbach. “However, the final decision still provides additional boating opportunities on the main stem Chattooga River above the Highway 28 bridge while continuing to emphasize, protect and enhance optimal, year-round, high-quality trout fishing. This decision minimizes user conflicts and also takes steps to reduce resource damage from existing and future recreation uses.”

Specifically, boating will be allowed from the confluence of Norton Mill Creek in North Carolina to Burrells Ford Bridge in South Carolina (not including the tributaries) between December 1 and March 1 when the river reaches approximate flow levels of 450 cfs or more at the Burrells Ford gauge. These flows are above those considered optimal for fishing and will produce approximately six boatable days in an average year. This stretch of river provides challenging, whitewater boating in a solitude setting and was rated the highest by boaters for creek boating.

The Forest Service decision also enhances the scenery Outstandingly Remarkable Value (ORV) by reducing the number and size of campsites and closing or rehabilitating user-created trails and campsites. It recognizes the value of large woody debris for aquatic habitat, prohibiting its removal to accommodate recreation in the upper reaches, and acknowledges the important role of tributaries in the restoration of the native brook trout. Additionally, guidelines are established for encounter limits for all uses, primarily to protect opportunities for solitude now and in the future.

“The purpose of this new management direction is to ensure the continued enjoyment of the upper Chattooga by a variety of recreationists consistent with protecting and enhancing the river’s free flowing conditions, water quality and ORVs as required under the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act,” said Schwalbach. “It also preserves the natural conditions, wilderness character, and ‘outstanding opportunities for solitude or a primitive and unconfined type of recreation’ within the Ellicott Rock Wilderness as required by the Wilderness Act.”

The agency intends to hold at least one public workshop on implementing the final decision in the fall. A separate announcement with more detailed information will be released in the near future.

A copy of the Decision Notice and EA will be available on the Francis Marion and Sumter National Forests’ Web site at http://www.fs.fed.us/r8/fms where additional background information can be found.

Playing Hookie on the Chattooga River

Here's a little video from last year that passed under our radar....SeanC and trout-tiger from the Southeast Fly Fishing Forum spent a little time fishing and filming on the Chattooga....enjoy!



Any video that opens with Jimi doing Voodoo Chile is OK in my book - great job, guys!

A Flatlander's Dark:30

After almost a year of being away from my favorite river - the Chattooga - an opportunity arose to head there this past Friday afternoon. The drive north consisted of a little conversation, a lot of bluegrass pickin' music and a rush of memories of past trips to this special place. Visions of rising fish from the first ever "hatch" I experienced seemed as fresh as the new spring growth seen everywhere right now, and there was much anticipation of experiencing one again on this day.

As has been the case for me for the last year or so now, I have a hard time deciding whether to fish or to shoot photos. I wish I would just grow another set of arms and be able to perform both, but I don't see that happening without coming in contact with some sort of radioactive material (maybe a trip to the Savannah River Site is in order?). So, after arriving at the river around 3:00 in the afternoon, Guru started, well, fishing, while I shot a few hundred photos of my favorite place. Observing caddis and mayflies sporadically coming off the water and flying to a nearby hemlock, watching Jimmy catch multiple rainbows and brook trout by skittering caddis patterns downstream, and just getting to see normal water levels had me immediately satisfied before I even strung up the five-weight.

Of course, it finally got to me and the fly line was slid through the stripping guides and then the snakes and finally out of the tippy-top. Some 5X tippet was added to the leader and a parachute Adams was carefully tied with a securely-cinched knot. Cast after cast was made for nearly two hours without a single fish rising. But still, I remained satisfied. For the first time ever I was perfectly fine not catching fish. What's happening to me? Am I growing personally? (I'm reminded of an episode of Seinfeld where George says, "Personal growth of any kind really annoys me.")

Then, just when I had come to terms with the fact that I wasn't going to catch a fish this evening, something changed. Tan caddisflies started flying upriver as if they had been summoned to some sort of important gathering of the caddis. A few mayflies - including some sort of huge light cahill/Green Drake/bald eagle hybrid - started flying around (they were so big, one flew close to my head and I swear the wind coming from its wing-flap blew my hair a little). And, just like that, it was on.

The waning light urged me to switch to a big, visible Yellow Humpy dry fly and drop the parachute Adams off of it. Nothing like fishing two dries. In one long run, I landed six rainbows, one of which went completely air born to grab the Adams before it even landed on the water!

After exhausting that run, a short hike up to a long, glassy stretch where I have caught a few decent browns in the past had me itching to "churn butter" and hook one or two more. Guru and I watched as several brown trout consistently rose, including one who had been doing his squats and bicep curls for a while. After a few dozen casts to "big boy," he finally rose to the Adams. "OOOHHHH YESSS!!" I screamed.

Now, when you hook a fish that runs, like all trout do, you're usually okay as long as they don't run directly AT you. This creates slack and that's not good.

Well, big boy did exactly that.

Luckily, I stuck him good and felt confident that the hook wasn't going anywhere. And, that extra time cinching down my knots had me almost certain that this fish would take up temporary residence inside of my landing net. And, when he neared my feet, I really caught a glimpse of how large this fish was (somewhere between 18 and 20 inches with some good shoulders on him).

There was one variable in this equation, however, that would possibly jeopardize the whole operation - a slight rust on the bend of my hook. The current state of the economy and its subsequent effect on people who are trying to write for a living, combined with the fact that I hadn't trout fished in a while (the bass are on the bed... REPEAT... the bass are on the bed) led to an all-too-neglected fly box.

So, while continuing to YELL "OOOHHHH YESSSS!" over and over, I came up with a new dance move that helps remove slack line - the "Trout-Tackler-Two-Step" is sort of a backward stumble that adds some crazy-fast stripping with the line hand to try to take out the slack. It worked and the fish was on tight again... for about two seconds. In an instant the line was totally slack and my flies were above the water again.

Upon further inspection, the Adams had lost the business end of himself in the battle.

Heartbreaker.

But, an immediate roll-cast to the side resulted in another immediate rise by a smaller brown and he was quickly landed. Another few casts to another rising fish had him on and landed - a NICE 15-inch brown. And before dark, another two browns were landed on that same glassy stretch.

The second half of the hike back to the parking lot was in darkness, save two flashlights from Guru and Dredger (who we met on the hike back) and was just as fun as the fishing. Stories, observations, fish counts, laughs and camaraderie were readily shared on that jaunt through the dark woods as another memory was filed away for the next drive north, whenever that may be.

David Cannon
CannonOutdoors.com