More from Smoky Mountains NP.
Sometimes the fishing gods find it necessary to test our resolve, to throw everything at us (including the kitchen sink). Just to see how badly we want that fish. In 2020, it should be no surprise that the fishing gods had just such a trip in plan for me.
Though no insects were hatching, I tied on a #14 snowshoe hare yellow sally pattern left over from a spring visit to the Smokies and began the day prospecting a small pool overhung by dense vegetation. Within moments I was on the board…
A creature of solitude, I made the decision to surrender my position to the approaching horde and retreated to the roadway.
Marking off rivers within a 2-hour radius of Denver, and aided by a local Orvis employee with roots in the region (Thanks Chap!), I laid out plans for four days of fishing. Considering “rusty” to be an overly generous euphemism for the degradation of my skills, I told myself that I would be satisfied if I landed a single fish over the course of my adventures.