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Book Review
Jim Casada’s "Fly Fishing in the Great Smoky Mountains National
Park: An Insider’s Guide to a Pursuit of Passion"
I was recently blessed to spend several quiet evenings reading (more
like devouring) Jim Casada’s newest book on fly fishing the Great
Smoky Mountains National Park. This book is much more than a “how to,
where to, what to, and when to” book on trout fishing. Jim’s newest
creation is an absolutely wonderful book that reads more like a fine
novel than a book on fly fishing. I was so enthralled by the prose,
descriptions of the excellent fishing, stories and history of the
Smoky Mountains that I read through the 400 plus pages in 6 evenings.
This is a must have book for everyone who loves camping, fishing or
hiking in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Jim provides such
details as a “quality of fishing rating” for each stream. He also
discusses the species of trout (Rainbow, Brown and Mountain and other
gamefish) available in each watershed. He details which streams or
portions of streams have more open casting. He also describes of some
of his favorite streams that require the “bow and arrow” cast to make
a good presentation due to the ubiquitous rhododendron thickets on the
stream banks. The driving directions are complete with in depth
discussions of parking spots, road maps, camping sites, trails and
historic cemeteries He also spends considerable prose recapturing the
rich history of the park inhabitants before they were removed from the
land by the U.S Government to form the GSMNP. There are intriguing
stories of moon shiners, mule wagon wrecks, deforestation, farming,
fishing, Civil War history and old farming communities long ago
abandoned and reclaimed by the foliage. There is also an excellent
fold out map containing every stream and road in the Park.
Jim’s fine prose and attention to detail actually touched a few of my
own "memory heart chords" as his creek/stream descriptions took me
back in time to my graduate school days at the University of
Tennessee, Knoxville from 1985-1989. It also gave me a deep longing to
return to that piece of heaven that is the Great Smoky Mountains
National Park.
In retrospect, I probably could have graduated about 6 months earlier
had I not misspent so much time fishing and hiking. However, I
consider the time I spent in the park during my graduate school days
anything but wasted, though my research advisor probably thought
otherwise. I hiked and fished several of the waters listed in the
book, catching lots of trout and eating a few of them too. Abrams
Creek in Cades Cove was a favorite stream along with the Middle Prong
of the Little River. I also fished Greenbrier, Little River, Hazel
Creek, Eagle Creek, Pigeon River and Twenty Mile Creek. I had many
wonderful hours from 1985-1989 on these trails and waters. Jim’s
descriptions of those watersheds are spot on accurate.
Of special interest to me is Jim’s description of the Cataloochee
Valley. It is one loaction in the park that I have not yet ventured
too. Jim made it sound like a hiker’s and fly fisherman’s Shangri La.
I have to get over to the Cataloochee valley someday. Jim’s
description made it sound like a place as close to paradise as one can
get this side of heaven.
It is obvious that Jim put tremendous effort, research and hard work
into this wonderful gbookt. In the pages of this book you will receive
more than a little insight into the heart of the author. This book is
a gift to all of us who love the GSMNP, an absolutely excellent work
and a really fun read. I thoroughly enjoyed every minute I spent
reading it. In my humble opinion, this is the most extensive and
complete book ever written on fishing the GSMNP. I will treasure my
autographed copy. It will hold an honored place in my fishing library.
I am sure I will consult it often. I encourage you to invest and
purchase a copy as soon as you can.
Please come and meet the author of Fly Fishing in the Great Smoky
Mountains National Park: An Insider’s Guide to a Pursuit of Passion,
Jim Casada, at the NGFF meeting on Tuesday, November 10 at 7:00PM. Jim
will have this book for sale at the meeting and will be glad to
autograph your purchased copy. Jim will also be giving an audio/visual
presentation on trout fishing that I know all will enjoy.
Until Then, God Bless and Tight Lines
Anthony Hipps
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Excitement on the North Toe
A few weekends ago I was killing time waiting for the Penn State
Iowa football game to get underway. I picked up what became the start
of my collection of books on fly fishing, the Trout Fisherman’s Bible
by Dan Holland. This was a Christmas gift from my parents in 1964. I
read it so voraciously that winter I’m surprised the ink didn’t wear
off. As I flipped through the pages, I recalled some salient points
Holland made. One was about the effectiveness of old fashioned wet
flies. The other was about the Mahoney brothers. Let me explain.
My copy was the second edition, the first of which was copyrighted
in 1949. So it could be truthfully said that Holland was “old school.”
He advocated using wet flies to get started in the sport. As I learned
over the years, wets could simply be slung into the current and
allowed to drift downstream where they would eventually swing up to
the surface if slack wasn’t fed into the drift. The point at which
they ascended to the surface was the hotspot of the drift as the fish
took this movement as something alive trying to hatch or otherwise get
away. I learned to be ready for a strike at the end of the drift.
But wets could be used in a much more sophisticated fashion. My
favorite became to fish a pair of wet flies upstream on a dead drift.
After allowing the flies time to sink, I twitched the them upwards
during the drift and let them sink again. The fish usually struck as
the flies settled after a set of twitches. The strike was subtle,
usually a flash as the fish turned to grab a fly, or a slight movement
of the leader. This method is still fun but I haven’t been in the mood
to try it for a very long time.
Part of that hiatus is due to my stubborn insistence that wet fly
wings must be set exactly right. If the wings are not in the same
plane as the hook, the fly will spin in the water, a most unnatural
motion. Only someone who ties wets routinely maintains the knack of
setting the wings correctly. I don’t do it often enough so I have to
re-learn it every time. But a beautifully tied quill-winged wet fly is
a thing of beauty. Re-reading Dan Holland got the fever started again
and I sat down to re-teach myself correct winging technique. It took a
few attempts, as usual, but I got it down. At the end of the session I
stashed a few “proper” number twelve Black Gnats in my fly book.
As to the Mahoneys, Holland was referring to two brothers who
explored all the water with their flies and took fish from places
others passed up. His point was to fish everywhere and not just the
places that look fishy. He advocated crossing the stream to fish from
the side not ordinarily used and to try the unusual approach. His
message was the fly fishing equivalent of “leave no stone unturned.”
This was reinforced many years later when a fishery biologist at Penn
State actually videotaped trout being themselves. He showed fish out
in mid-stream where the books said not to bother with until dusk or at
night. The biologist’s take-home message was to cover all the water
and not take for granted where the fish “should” be. I have developed
several habits over the years to help me be more thorough including a
mantra of “fish the water before you step in it.” Before entering the
water, I flip out a short cast to see if a fish is holding where I
intend to wade. A rise to the fly with only half of the leader
dangling from the rod tip still brings a smile.
The irony of using the Mahoney brothers as an example of on-stream
efficiency was that I actually knew a pair of Mahoney’s who were, in
fact, excellent fishermen. They often caught the biggest trout and
bass. The eldest brother was in my grade school class and he freely
told me where and how the big ones didn’t get away. I never followed
them around to observe their technique but I knew enough to avoid a
spot after they had worked it over.
This past weekend I returned to a stretch of a North Toe River I
fished in late July. The weather was lousy for those coming to the
mountains to look at the leaves but perfect for fishing. A steady rain
during the night gave way to a drizzly, leaden gray sky. Such dark
conditions would encourage the fish to move about and feed as opposed
to hiding under a rock to get out of the sunlight. I decided to hang a
nymph off a dry fly but substituted a Black Gnat wet fly for a nymph,
recalling the old adage ‘dark day, dark fly.’ The Gnat could be
readily seen and taken for many food forms. In the first piece of
water I took a brown and three rainbows: all on the Gnat, all without
moving.
Now I felt confident to advance upstream. I began working a long
pool that was generous in July. I got two or three small fish, all
wild rainbows, in the lower reaches of the pool. I moved up along the
bank opposite the road and sat down to adjust my rig. If one Black
Gnat was doing so well, why not try two? A few minutes later I cast
again, with three flies this time, a Royal Wulff suspending two black
wets. I was approaching a wonderful lie that looked like only a pile
rocks from the road side. From my vantage point I could see a
moss-covered rock wall that ran almost four feet parallel to the
current. In July I took a nice brown lying up against the moss. Now I
made a similar cast and watched the Wulff drift around a rock and
alongside the wall. It disappeared from view and just hung there. I
stared at the fly and saw a movement underwater. I could hardly
believe my eyes: it was a brown trout and a very large one at that. I
didn’t know if it had taken a fly so I tightened the line and the fish
responded. I lowered the rod to my right and the fish shot out of its
lie to reduce the pressure. With a 4X tippet I put a lot of pressure
on the fish and soon it was floundering at my feet.
The darn thing looked to be 24-26 inches long. It was a long, lean
fish covered with black spots. Its dark olive background color blended
in perfectly with the moss. Of course, I didn’t have a net. Except for
the lone brown, everything else I had caught was a wild rainbow, a big
one reaching ten inches. This thing was nearly three times as long. I
decided I would hold the fish along my wading staff and mark it for
length. Then I could release the fish. But the monster was regaining
its strength and as I reached for it, it popped the gnat off the
dropper in a terrific swirl. It seemed almost dreamlike, here one
minute and gone the next.
The fish took the upper Black Gnat hanging just under the surface.
I never saw a visible sign of the take, only the Wulff going under. I
sat down on the bank and my breathing returned to normal after a few
seconds. I repaired my rig and added yet another Black Gnat. I spent
the next hour and a half catching fish wherever I placed the flies.
Only the oddball took the dry, the fish consistently hammered the pair
of Gnats.
By three in the afternoon, the dark wet flies seemed to lose some
of their magic and the fish began to show a decided preference for the
Wulff, even when it had sunk. My last fish, a nice ten inch rainbow,
did exactly that. I couldn’t see where it lay on the bottom but I did
see it ambush the sodden dry just under the surface.
I could not have had a more pleasant day of fishing. I began with
the intention of trying the water between Minneapolis and Newland
along the Old Toe River Road but found the only accessible water
heavily posted. This only served to fuel my anger at reserving water
for a privileged few. This is an Old World idea and definitely
un-American. My attitude softened in the eagerness of the wild
rainbows to grab my flies. I was thoroughly enjoying public water
along a well traveled road and didn’t see another fisherman. The
highlight of my day, of course, was the shock of a huge fish coming
out of nowhere. The capture of such a trophy made me take pause.
Looking back over the years I recalled struggling to catch a fish with
a fly. I remembered scouring Dan Holland’s book for hidden insights.
Now I sat trying to repair my leader with trembling fingers. Maybe I
had at last become a fly fisherman.
Jim Brady
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