Callaway Gardens Fly Fishing
And The Federation of Fly Fishers 2007 Southeastern Council Conclave
Carl Warmouth, Manager of the fly shop, guiding service and fishing
operations at
Callaway Gardens, Pine Mountain, Ga, gave a slide
presentation to Nat Greene Fly Fishers at our April 2006 monthly
meeting. During that meeting Carl presented enough information and
warmwater fishing eye-candy to tempt any bass/bluegill fly fishing
addict. During that presentation, Carl did a “matter-of-fact” program
on the fishing opportunities at Callaway Gardens and the surrounding
area. He showed photographs and told stories about two-pound plus
bluegills, three-pound plus shellcrackers (aka redear sunfish) and
largemouth bass that exceeded six pounds, all taken on a fly in the
lakes and ponds at Callaway Gardens. Based on the one day of fishing I
had in June 2006, Carl was not in any way over-hyping the fishing at
Callaway Gardens. If anything, he under-hyped the wonderful fishing
opportunities and the quality of fishing at Callaway Gardens.
Until the 2006
FFF-SEC Conclave, I had not fished at Callaway
Gardens. I had stayed there on three previous occasions 2003-2005,
participating in fly fishing shows, vacation stopovers, FFF Conclaves
and fly tying seminars. However, due to one reason or another
(Conclave duties, weather, illness) I did not get to fish during any
of those previous visits.
Anthony Finally Gets to Fish at Callaway Gardens (a.k.a. Sometimes
the Catching is Good, but the Trip is Bad)
When Callaway Gardens was announced as the site of the 2006 FFF-SEC
Conclave (June 8-9), I made plans to check in a day before the
Conclave started so I could finally enjoy some of the Callaway Gardens
fishing. Robin could not get free from work so I made the trip by
myself this time. I checked into the Callaway Gardens mountain Creek
in Wednesday night with visions of large bluegills dancing in my head.
That Thursday morning after breakfast I went to the Callaway Gardens
fly shop. Carl had reserved a jon boat for me for a half-day fishing
as I had to report to the FFF-SEC Conclave Directors meeting at noon.
This jon boat came with a stern mounted electric trolling motor for
fishing in Mountain Creek Lake. Mountain Creek Lake is the largest
body of water in Callaway. Only Callaway’s rented canoes or jon boats
with electric power are allowed on this lake. Let me tell you right
off that the fish catching was excellent, but the experience was soul
testing.
When I walked into the fly shop to sign out the boat, Carl was not
there yet. The pretty young lady cashier told me that Carl would be
there in an hour, but I could go ahead and take the boat. There was
also a young man sitting in the fly shop classroom tying flies. For
this story’s purposes we will call him by the name “X” to protect the
innocent (and I’m the one who is innocent). X introduced himself and
told me that he would be a demonstration fly tier at the conclave. In
trying to be a nice guy I invited X to join me in the jon boat for a
morning of fishing on the lake.
Little did I know at the time that by mid-morning I would be a very
irritated man and through fishing. Long before I was due to return the
boat, X would instigate feelings that caused me to contemplate, but
not execute, a physics experiment. This experiment would have resulted
in determining X’s acute ability to swim, or lack thereof.
X started of by telling me he had fished the lake all his life
(which was over twenty-two years shorter than mine) and knew where to
find the big bluegills. X also insisted on running the trolling motor.
I took X’s offer to run the trolling motor, mistakenly I might add, as
him offering to position the boat while the “old guy”, me, was free to
just fish and not worry about that.
As we were leaving the boathouse in the jon boat, X got off on the
wrong foot with me right away. First, X looked at my fly rod, flies
and leader and authoritatively told me that my popper/dropper rig
would not work on this lake. He said that I would not catch any fish.
X then told me that the reason he wanted to run the trolling motor was
that he figured an old guy like me probably didn’t know how. As we
made the slow troll across the lake, X then lit up a cigarette. When I
asked X why a man so young would smoke, and endanger his health at a
young age, he proceeded to lecture me on the positive health virtues
of smoking. When I challenged X on the scientific and medical merits
of his diatribe, he retorted that “scientist and doctors are idiots
and don’t know what they are talking about. Smoking does not hurt
anyone; it is good fer ya.” “Cigarette smoke has lots of minrels and
vitamins”. “I wouldn’t quit smoking for anything.” I then asked X “did
he know what I did for a living.” X said he thought I was an
accountant, computer programmer or lawyer. He face showed no
expression at all when I told him that, “I am one of those idiot
scientist”.
At the fly shop X had said he didn’t have his own fly rod with him.
He asked to borrow one of mine. I had three rods with me and loaned
him my favorite 5-weight St. Croix four-piece travel rod. I was
fishing a Cabelas 4-weight rod I had built. He started rigging by
cutting my brand new knotless tapered leader in half and throwing the
cutoff end into the lake. I then gave X a “fatherly” lecture on
environmental responsibility and the harm discarded monofilament line
can do to birds and wildlife. X responded that that was more “crap”
from scientist as “monerfilament” decayed shortly after exposure to
sunlight. My, how scientifically enlightened X was. By now, before I
had even made the first cast, I was really regretting inviting X to
join me.
I started with a size ten, lightly weighted black chenille-bodied
nymph with white rubber-legs suspended 18 inches on a dropper off a
white size eight soft-bodied popper. X rigged a long, straight leader
with a large and heavy bead head nymph. He then attached a bright
orange yarn strike indicator that was as big as a tennis ball, five
feet above the nymph. X explained to me that the bluegills in this
lake will not hit poppers and you had to fish deep. X also told me
that without a big strike indicator like his I would not be able to
detect the strikes. Trying to hide the anger in my voice, I told X
that “I have been fly fishing, catching fish and running a boat since
before you were born. I am willing to experiment. If your way is
working better, I will switch.” I shouldn’t have worried about him
detecting my anger. X was far too dense to “get it”. He arrogantly
exclaimed, “OK, but I am going to kick your butt”. I seethed quietly
and mumbled under my breath, (I won’t say exactly what I what I was
thinking, something about “you pompous little %^%#$”...but, this is a
family friendly article. “Lord forgive me for thinking bad words and
bless the starving Pygmies in Congo Africa. Amen.”).
I had no idea that X had a logistical strategy for “kicking my
butt” that involved his controlling the boat and therefore the casting
angles. X motored the boat within casting range of several downed logs
in the back of a cove. I fired off a forty foot cast and let the bugs
settle beside one of the logs. I then gave one twitch of the line and
the popper slid under the surface. I quickly set the hook and felt a
heavy resistance as the light fly rod bent under the pressure of a
strong fish. I was suddenly feeling like this was going to be an okay
morning after all. In a couple minutes I landed an eleven inch long
shellcracker that had inhaled the nymph.
While I was removing the hook from this shellcracker, my head, hat,
face and rod tip were suddenly buried limb-and-leaf deep in an
overhanging willow tree. X had moved the boat to where only he could
cast to the log where I had just caught the shellcracker. The front of
the boat, where I sat, was firmly planted in and under the tree. With
my head still deep under the limbs of the tree, in a position
impossible for me to cast anywhere, X made a few cast and caught three
bluegills. I finally “politely” implored X to move us out so we both
could cast. X exclaimed “see I caught three to your one out of that
spot. You need to change rigs and fish deep.” As a displaced brown
spider crawled across my sunglasses I again thought to myself… (again,
this is a family friendly article…”Lord forgive me for those less than
loving thoughts I just had and bless the starving Incas in Peru.
Amen.”).
That is the way it would progress for the next one hour, thirty-one
minutes and forty-three seconds. I would cast and catch a bluegill or
shellcracker (several large ones in the ten to twelve inch long range)
out of obvious fishy looking spots. X would then immediately
reposition the boat to where only he could cast back to that spot.
Once, at the end of my sanity and temper, I deliberately fired the fly
line directly over the top of his head. I began wondering if fly line
was strong enough to choke someone. Guessing that my delicate fly rod
would not take the strain I chose to not test that hypothesis. My mind
started thinking “but maybe if I wrapped the fly line and pulled real
hard with both hands. Nah, I know I shouldn’t even think like that.”
(“Lord please forgive me for my violent thoughts and bless the much
underpaid school teachers in North Carolina. Amen.”.)
It turns out that X was not nearly as good a fly fisherman as he
thought himself to be. He was fishing at least four feet deep and the
best fish were shallow. His large and heavily over-weighted nymph
plummeted to the bottom well below the strike zone in the top two feet
of the water column. I did catch a few more fish than X and several
nice bluegills did eat the popper (Hah! Justice). X never did really
catch on that the fish were shallower than is heavy nymph was
sinking..
Finally, X once again repositioned the boat to where I couldn’t
cast back to a spot I had just caught a big bluegill. I began thinking
about physics; the 9.8 meters/second2 acceleration of gravity,
centripetal force and “momentum equals mass times acceleration”.
Should I shove X with the bottom of my boot for a long, low trajectory
horizontal entry or should I give a hard upward foot kick in X’s rear
in an effort to achieve maximum velocity and altitude? Should I go for
a lateral skip across the lake surface like with a low trajectory
thrown flat stone? Or, should I shoot for just making a great big
splash and sink? What would be the maximum height, distance and volume
of the splash based on water displacement of approximately 160 pounds
of hydrogenated carbon entering from a 35° angle and a height of five
feet? Would the experiment turn the boat over and thus get me wet?
These are all scientific principles that need to be taken into serious
consideration before executing such an experiment. It was probably the
fact that X was holding my beloved St. Croix fly rod, more than my
overly-strained good nature, that kept me from executing said physics
experiment (“Father forgive me for joyously contemplating this
experiment and bless the starving Orinoco Indians in Guatemala.
Amen.”). I just called it quits. It was either quit and leave now,
with my sanity, temper, dignity and lack of a violent criminal record
mostly intact, or begin the countdown and subsequent launch of the X
experiment.
I finally told X that I had to get back to the resort center to
help set up the Conclave exhibits. X exclaimed that we had only been
fishing for a couple of hours. I told X, “really, it felt more like
one hour, thirty-one minutes and forty-three seconds, not counting
running time to the first fishing spot . Sorry, but I really have work
to do.” X still didn’t get it, but he motored us back to the boat
house. It was 10:11:48 and 12 seconds AM when we got on the dock.
When I went back into the fly shop, Carl noticed my reddened face,
nervous twitching, the frustration in my voice and my hands trembling.
Carl gave a big grin and exclaimed “oh, I see you met X”. While Carl
and I talked, X went to his car, got his own fly rod and without my or
Carl’s permission, took off on the lake again with the boat. Carl had
reserved the boat for me, in my name, and with my credit card. That is
when I told Carl there had almost been an “accidental” drowning that
morning. Carl told me not to worry, that “there still might be an
“accidental” drowning. The day was still young.”
Carl was well acquainted with X and fully understood my current
irritated state of mind. Carl said, “let me handle the boat issue, no
extra charge.” Carl then invited me to join one of his guides, Captain
Paul Hudson, for an evening float-tube trip for world class bluegills
on one of the private ponds in Callaway. We would leave the fly shop
at 4:00 PM and fish until dark. I took him up on the offer.
The Day Gets Better (Even Great): Anthony Goes on His First Float
Tube Fly Fishing Trip
After finishing my Conclave duties at the exhibit hall, I met
Captain Paul and fellow Conclave attendee, Tom Koch, at the fly shop.
Paul and Tom turned out to be extremely easy going and very pleasant
gentlemen to spend an afternoon fishing with. But, then again, that
bar was pretty low based on my morning experience with X.
Paul drove us to a large pond in the woods beside a golf course. He
then fitted us with float tubes, swim fins and helped us get into the
water. Being waist deep in the water immediately started to ease the
tension that had built up in the morning. Paul gave us some
instructions on float tube safety and where we would find the best
fishing. As Tom and I paddled around getting used to maneuvering a
float tube, we invited Paul to also grab a rod and join the fishing
with us. We were both experienced fly fisherman and did not need a lot
of coaching. Tom was actually there to take the FFF Casting Instructor
test. Paul good-naturedly argued with us for a while before he finally
relented and set up his rod.
This would turn out to be one of the most pleasant and fun fishing
experiences I would have in 2006. Pretty soon both Tom and I were into
the biggest bluegills we have ever caught in our life. They hit
nymphs, small streamers and poppers with enough regularity that we
didn’t go very many cast between strikes. Each fish was very healthy
and put up a strong battle, bending our light fly rods into the cork
grips. Some of the larger fish even towed the float tube a short
distance. In a little over three hours fishing I caught fourteen
bluegills that were between 11 and 13.5 inches long (the biggest
bluegill) (and as big around as a dinner plate) and Tom did just as
well. These lengths were honestly measured on the ruler marked on the
apron of the float tube. This is not counting the numerous smaller
bluegills we caught that would still be nice (8 to 10 inches) by most
standards. We also caught several largemouth bass that were 10 to 13
inches long. After Tom and I each caught several fish, our guide,
Captain Paul, was finally coaxed into casting and enjoying the fishing
as well. Soon all three of us were into fish with double and triple
hook-ups. We were playing fish and laughing out loud in pond fishing
heaven.
The big one, however, did get away. Next to a willow tree were some
aquatic weeds in a shallow depression of the bank. As I back-paddled
the float tube within casting range I saw the weeds actually move and
noticed a large swirl. I cast the popper/dropper rig to the spot and
the popper immediately shot off across the surface of the water. I set
the hook and was tight to a very strong fish. The drag of the fly reel
screamed as the fish made a run sideways along the bank. For the short
run I could not turn it and it would not come to the surface. Captain
Paul saw the action and stated “I think you have hooked a really big
shellcracker”. After a couple minutes I started getting the upper hand
in the battle and a humongous shellcracker rolled on the surface of
the water, just out of my arms reach. It was at least fifteen inches
long (maybe bigger), at least two inches thick across the shoulders
and as wide as a large serving plate. As I was sliding the fish toward
my hand, it made one last hard wallow on the surface. The barbless
nymph slipped out of its mouth. The exhausted trophy lay motionless on
the surface of the water for a couple of seconds. Then with one
flounce it was gone.
In 2001 I caught a really large shellcracker on Lake Tillery. It
had measured fourteen inches long and weighed three-and-three-quarter
pounds on hand scales. I photographed and released it as shellcrackers
that big are very rare and precious.
This shellcracker I had just lost at Callaway Gardens was easily
bigger than four pounds. Captain Paul tried to console me with the
fact we had over an hour fishing time left and I might get another
shot. We all caught several more large bluegills and small bass before
dark, but none of us got another huge shellcracker. (Lord, thank you
for the wonderful evening of fishing, and bless my new friends Paul
and Tom. Amen.)
After the fishing ended at dark, Tom and I shared dinner at a very
good Mexican restaurant in Pine Mountain. We talked about the FFF-SEC
Conclave and the evening fishing we had just experienced. We both
agreed that it was one of the most pleasant and fun fly fishing trips
either of us had experienced in a long time. Captain Paul was great
and gave spot-on advice on where to cast for the bigger bluegills. He
also was of great help on my first ever float tube trip, patiently
teaching me the most efficient way to move and maneuver the tube. It
was a blast and the fishing was excellent.
Due to Conclave duties and travel schedule, I did not get to fish
again in the Callaway Garden lakes that weekend. Several of my friends
did go on the guided float tube trips or rented the jon boats for
self-guided trips on Mountain Creek Lake. All of their reports
mirrored mine. They all caught lots of large bluegills, a few big
shellcrackers and a few largemouth bass. No really big bass were
reported caught during the Conclave, but there were several quality
bass in the two to three pound weight range caught on the fly.
FFF-SEC 2007 Conclave June 8-9, Callaway Gardens, Pine Mountain,
GA
The 2007 Federation of Fly Fishers-Southeastern Council Conclave
will be back at Callaway Gardens in Pine Mountain, Georgia, June 8-9.
Pine Mountain, Ga is approximately 6 hours south of Greensboro (1 hour
15 minutes southwest of Atlanta). For information on the Conclave you
can visit the FFF-SEC website at www.fffsec.org.
The Conclave will again feature some of the world’s best fly
fishing speakers with the keynote speaker being Dave Hughes, who was
the speaker for the NGFF 2006 banquet. There will be seminars and
classes on fly casting, fly fishing and fly tying. Their will be slide
show presentations, fly shop vendors and several guide services in
attendance. Over thirty of the best fly tiers in the world will be
demonstrating their artistry with feathers, fur and synthetics for
everything from Tarpon, to trout to bluegills and a few surprises in
between. If you have never attended an FFF-SEC Conclave, I can assure
you that it is a lot of fun and a tremendous opportunity to learn
something new about fly fishing.
Click on the tab for “Conclave” and it will take you to all of the
information you need. There is also a section on the 2007 fishing that
will be available to Conclave attendees. The guided trips and boat
rentals will be heavily discounted for FFF member Conclave attendees
from Thursday before the Conclave through Sunday after the Conclave.
Free fishing is available for attendees of the conclave during (and
only during) the following times and at the following locations…Robin
Lake, Martin Lake and Chickadee Lake from 5:00 AM-9:00 AM on Thursday,
Friday, Saturday, and Sunday morning. Anglers must be off the lakes by
9:00 AM as other Callaway guests will be utilizing them for other
activities. See the map for locations.
Callaway Gardens is offering several opportunities for Conclave
attendees to fish Callaway’s private water at reduced rates.
The Mountain Creek Lake boathouse has 14’ aluminum jon boats with
electric trolling motors for rent at $7 for a half-day or $14 for a
full day. This is less than 1/4 the normal rate for boat rentals.
There are also semi-guided trips available (like the one Tom and I
took with Captain Paul Hudson) on a limited basis on Thursday from
4:00-8:00 PM, Friday from 6:00-10:00 AM and 4:00-8:00 PM, Saturday
from 6:00-10:00 AM and Sunday from 6:00-10:00 AM. These are group
trips with a guide from Callaway Gardens on our private lakes. The
group is limited to 5 anglers and there are 3 groups per session.
PRE-REGISTRATION IS REQUIRED. Sign up before the conclave through the
fly shop; once the conclave begins register at the Callaway Gardens
booth in the exhibit hall.
A fishing license is not needed to fish on the Callaway property,
but is necessary for all anglers 16 and older when fishing elsewhere.
I hope that many of you from Nat Greene Fly Fishers will join me
and our own Dr. Jim Brady at this years FFF-SEC Conclave.
Callaway Gardens Has Something for the Whole Family
While the fishing at Callaway Gardens is fantastic, Callaway
Gardens has a lot more to offer than fishing. The non-fisher will have
plenty of activities and things to do at Callaway (www.callawaygardens.com).
Callaway has a world championship golf course, shops, restaurants,
nature trails, bike trails, flower gardens, vegetable gardens, the
worlds largest indoor butterfly aviary, a raptor center with
free-flight show demonstrations, water-skiing show, health spas,
pools, etc. It also has bus tours for those less inclined or unable to
walk. The little town of Pine Mountain has some very good restaurants
and some unique shops. So if you come to the FFF-SEC Conclave, bring
your non-fishing family members and let them experience the Gardens.
The price of your hotel room gets you access to all of the gardens and
activities (except special shows where a fee is charged or restaurant
charges). Most attractions in the gardens are free with your hotel
room key.
God Bless and Tight Lines
Anthony Hipps
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Vital Telephone Number for Sportsmen
While I wandered the aisles at this month’s fly fishing show in
Charlotte, I found the NC Wildlife Commission’s booth. I voiced a
complaint shared by many about the rampant poaching of fish in Stone
Mountain State Park and the Mitchell River. From that discussion, I
have concluded two action points should be pursued.
First, a telephone number for reporting game violations is printed
in each monthly issue of Wildlife in North Carolina: 800-662-7137.
Program this into your cell phone and use it! Given that the time
between receiving a call and dispatching an officer to the scene is
too great to be practical for getting the bad guys, we can at least
demonstrate there is a serious problem on our rivers by generating a
long list of calls from these areas. With persistence, we will
eventually get more attention from enforcement. If we do not call, and
merely watch our fish being stolen from under our noses, we deserve
what results: an empty creek.
Second, as good as the Wildlife Commission’s website is (http://www.ncwildlife.org),
there is no button to click on to report a violation or make a
suggestion other than sending an email directly to a commissioner,
which is likely a good way for a message to die a slow death in their
inbox. When you call the number above, also mention we need an
electronic means to communicate with the commission. It should take
little effort to add a link to the website. We use email for
everything else, why not to improve our sport?
Jim Brady
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