Nat Greene Flyfishers    October 2009

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Exploring the North Toe

I met a long lost friend at a cocktail party in July who told me of his success on the North Toe River near Newland, NC. Truth be told, he was fishing private water but he did say there were miles of river open to the public. I checked my maps and the internet found that most pressure is concentrated many miles downstream in the delayed harvest section near Spruce Pine. That left only a lifetime’s worth of river to explore upstream to Newland.

As luck would have it, a few weeks later some friends invited Molly and me to their house on Beech Mountain, which is quite close to the North Toe, at least as mountain roads would permit. A few minutes down routes 194 and 19E and I arrived in the metropolis of Minneapolis, actually a bend in the road with an inn and Baptist church. The river spills down the mountain from the left and follows the road in a southerly direction out of town. The river parallels the road for many miles, offering easy access. So much access, in fact, that I drove around for quite a while before getting in the water. I picked a spot about a quarter mile downstream from two fishermen at the mouth of Roaring Brook. The water had reasonably good depth for the end of July so I tied on a large Light Cahill with a white wing, sort of a Wulff-style Cahill. I figured I would just cover the water and see what happens.

I covered the first run thoroughly but no takes. A last cast brought up a fish that must have seen the fly at least four or five times. It was a nice native rainbow about seven inches.

I worked my way upstream to where I saw the other fishermen but they had moved on by the time I got there. The fishing was easy but I missed most of the strikes being very relaxed and not concentrating very hard. The fish held where I expected them so I waded mid-stream and cast against the banks. I missed an especially nice fish that was under a series of downed branches. I accidentally threw the fly into the tangle and slowly teased it out until it dropped on top of the fishes’ lie; he took it so fast I missed him. Once was enough as successive attempts drew no attention.

I reached the confluence with Roaring Brook but the pool was too exposed to the sun; I made a mental note that it might be good to try at dusk. I hopped in the car and searched for a new stretch to work. I saw some good looking water with pools and tumbling rapids not far from town and pulled over. As I walked downstream from the car, a movement in the water caught my eye. To be precise, three movements. I hid behind a bush and watched three nice fish, all about eleven inches or longer, rising leisurely. I backed off from the bush to reduce my silhouette and continued downstream. I slipped into the water in the pool below. A few casts around the foaming water at the head produced nothing so I crossed the stream to get in the shade along the far bank.

I always look for a fish hanging near the outflow of a pool because the flow concentrates the food in the drift as the current narrows. This spot was completely shaded. I flicked a short cast, about leader length, against the bank and was immediately met with a powerful take. My leader ended in a 4X tippet so I held the fish near its lie to avoid messing up the entire end of the pool. It was a thirteen inch brown, the best I would catch all day.

My hostess wanted a trout breakfast the next day so the brown was stuffed in my vest. I took a minute or so to restore the fly and looked up to see two other fish also holding in the tail. I managed to drag the fly over the first one and the other just didn’t want to play.

I crawled onto the moss-covered bank so I could position myself to work the middle of the pool without sending telltale waves ahead of me. The fish in the center of the pool appeared to be feeding on whatever came their way so I obliged. I took one on an ant and another a beetle. The third one, which was probably the best fish, swam to the far bank and stopped feeding. I moved upstream while tying on a parachute Adams with a fluorescent green wing. I laughed at the thing sitting in my vise but I sure could see it drifting twenty five feet away. Three more fish came taut to my line and I paused for a rest. I looked at my watch and saw the afternoon was almost gone. I had four keepers tucked in my vest and educated five others in the perils of artificial flies.

The stretch I was working was public water along a well traveled road. Yet fish rose freely at mid-day, albeit always in shadow. I noticed the river was hatchery supported but saw little evidence of other fishermen. Perhaps the stocking truck dumped its load many weeks past. I was about a mile from the center of town with no other fisherman in sight. The river was pleasant to fish and wide enough that I didn’t have to sneak around like working a small mountain stream.

I had only scratched the surface of the North Toe but quickly realized this stream should receive more attention. There is probably more than thirty miles of water to explore from upstream of Newland down to Spruce Pine. I am especially interested in working the water alongside the Old Toe River Road, which parallels the private stretch of the river. I need to find where the public water begins to look for large fish who don’t know they should swim upstream of a sign.

If you are looking for a new stream to try, I heartily recommend the North Toe. It’s quite a drive from Greensboro, though, so I suggest staying overnight in the area (there are a few motels but I have yet to locate a campground). Bring whatever flies you fish with confidence, anything will work. Just keep an open mind and when the water doesn’t produce, find another stretch. The fish are there.

Jim Brady

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