August 18-19, 2012
-by Stephen A. Dubberly
On an early Saturday morning before the sun arose over an early Autumn southern landscape, Jeff Purdy, Stephen Dubberly, Greg Bennett and Jeff Miller set out for an adventure in the storied Cataloochee Valley of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. After the quick ride from Atlanta we approached the winding mountain-side dirt road leading into the Valley. We are anxious for what lies over the next ridge or around the next corner for we had never camped or fished in the Cataloochee Valley. Driving over the mountain on the two path road seemed to take even longer than the 200 miles we had just driven from our urban confines. Every turn revealed more and more as we descended into the Valley and seemingly back in time.
As we set up camp, we swap stories about things we had read about the historic valley. From bears to trout to elk, we had much to discuss. All of which proved to be as illusive as the cell phone signals we had left on the other side of the mountain. Once settled in we head off to find these native rainbows and brookies we read and heard so much about. We fish away the afternoon enjoying the awesome environment this natural, mostly untouched, habitat has to offer. We spread out to find the water we think hold the best trout. Alone, I trek through several parts of Cataloochee Creek presenting fly after fly and try all my best skills and tricks to only miss a couple of tiny trout before heading to see what the other guys may have accomplished. It appeared as though they had all had similar luck. These fish are tough, clear, skinny water, hard to find fish, hard to catch fish. These fish are pros, we are not in their league. Perhaps with the exception of our guide and fly fishing mentor Jeff Purdy, who had the most luck (or skill) of the entire weekend.
We head over to the Ranger Station to try the creek running through the meadow. Beautiful pocket water with small tumbling rapids over unique Smoky Mountain boulders transitioning into smooth flats just begging for a dry fly. "This it it!", I think to myself. "This is the spot, time to rid the skunk." No such luck, but I enjoyed every bit of this new water and this challenging leg of the adventure.
We drive back to camp after searching much of the fishable water in this area of the Valley. Purdy's Special marinated ribs on the grill with all the fixin's for dinner and a few night caps and we are off too dream about the trout to be found in the day to come. That is, until the rain started. There was no rain in forecast, but in this valley, all bets are off. Will the fish bite in this weather? Well, according to the ranger in the campground, "Sometimes they like the rain, sometimes they don't." Words to live by. We give it one more shot in hopes that this is one of the times "they like it".
We drive over a long mountain pass in search of the "Second Bridge". We finally arrive after about 40 minutes on the two path road of endless switch-backs. "Are we there yet's" follow "Whoa! Look at the cliff!" The rain has subsided on this side of the mountain and we are once again excited! We are all anxious to try our hand at the fresh water we see flowing crisply and calling to us like a Siren's song from deep down in the gorge below. We step out into the parking area and decide which way to go. Greg and Jeff Miller head downstream, Jeff Purdy & I head upstream. After finally finding the overgrown stream-side trail we are on our way. The only thing I am thinking is, THIS IS BEAR COUNTRY! I had already read the statistic that this area has the highest concentration of bears in the entire GSMNP! That is a large area, and we are in the"bulls-eye" for bears so to speak. I have accepted the fact that we will walk up on one at any second as we trudge through the so-called "trail" yelling, BEAR! YO BEAR! Alas, we have survived and no bear is to be seen. Now, for the record, I'm not deathly afraid of bears. However I would rather see one from a distance than up close and personal in his/her own habitat!
We make our way down to the stream and it proves to be quite different than some of the slower water we had been fishing the day before. Larger boulders, far more pockets requiring a highly tactical approach. A level of fly fishing skill that I surely have not acquired yet. I make the best of the spot that I am in as Purdy treks on up stream further into bear country. We all reconvene near the bridge after a few hours. It appears I am the only one that has not actually landed a trout, I hooked into a couple of tiny, and I mean TINY, ones but I think my #14 Adams was just too big for them to set the hook. No worries, a great time was had by all and lifelong memories were made. While we may not venture to this exact location again any time soon in search of monster trout (we never thought they were actually there, but we can dream!), the majesty of this incredibly preserved valley beckons the call of anyone wanting to step back in time a little and experience a part of this country the way it was before highways & cell phones. Have a look at the video below and relive this remarkable weekend warrior adventure with us.
-Stephen
