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Against all the odds, Matt and I managed to string together consecutive days off from our demanding summer jobs. Two days of freedom and fly fishing. With the local tailwaters running full generation schedules and the summer temperatures hanging in the low 90s, the decision on where we should choose to fish was made easy. We were going up, way up. Where the huge poplars, maples and thick rhododendron keep the stream shaded and the water cool. Ideal conditions for happy hungry trout.
Our strategy was simple: Hike until we don't see another soul, then we get in and don't look back.
We pushed hard through the stream, working every little piece of pocket water we came upon. Climbed massive limestone boulders, ducked through blankets of rhododendron, pulled off remnants of spider webs, slipped once...maybe twice. The most grueling two days of fly fishing we have both ever encountered. Sore knees, bruised shins, shoulders rendered nearly useless. All for a chance to have a brief moment with what is native, the Southern Appalachian Brook Trout.
Featuring Matt Crockett
