Brrrrraving Another Spring NCRF Little T Campout

by NCRF correspondent Smallie Sam

    Seems that anytime I make plans to fish with Shoalieman, something’s going on with the weather. Tropical storms, torrential rains, unseasonably cold temperatures, anything can happen. This year’s campout at Rose Creek Campground was no exception. A late spring cold front, not completely out of the ordinary for Mid-May in WNC, made its presence felt throughout nearly all our weekend of camping and fishing. When we met early Friday morning, I was greeted with another surprise besides the cool weather. Basserdrew was making an appearance, my first chance to fish with him. He had a 3 day exploratory trip and the Little T was his first stop. We’d met a couple of times and corresponded for a quite a while but I never had the pleasure to fish with him.

    The temps Friday morning were in the low 40’s and I arrived to find Shoalieman already fishing and wet wading a tailout. I was thinking, “he’s crazy. I’m from the mountains and I’d be cold wet wading in these conditions.“ Soon after, he hooked into his first smallie of ‘07 and missed a couple more bites. Drew arrives a few minutes later, greetings and salutations, drop off yaks, shuttles downriver and soon we’re fishing. It’s still cool, and I’m impressed that Drew’s already got his shirt off, even more so watching him work the river. It’s something to see watching him standing in his yak, 5 or 6 rods at the ready, making spot on casts one after the other. I know that I’m not going to have much luck early with the fly rod, so I just enjoyed watching him go. And of course, Shoalieman is his usual positive, singing Suwanee River self. It’s a nice float, cool but not too bad with signs that it might be a nice day after all. Unfortunately, day one didn‘t work out that way. The wind picked up, really picked up. Other than a few fish that we picked up until late afternoon, the most eventful things that happened were Drew putting his shirt back on, Shoalieman and Drew catching a chill or Shoalieman hooking his shorts with a spinnerbait. For brief moments the wind would lay down and it was quite pleasant, but then it would pick up and blow us back up river.

The crew: From left, BasserDrew, Smallie Sam, and Shoalieman

Shoalieman is known for only hooking the big ones

    I couldn’t do anything in the wind fly fishing from a kayak. Still, I pushed ahead, waded some spots and I picked up a few fish on top water here and there. But, by around 6 pm my right arm was getting sore trying haul the mail in that stiff breeze and we had 3 miles to go in a head wind. I knew I had a better day coming Saturday, but wished I’d brought some spinning gear because the last 2 hours or so, Shoalieman and Drew got some nice fish as the bite picked up and they were better able to control their casts with standard gear. Nobody got anything much over a pound, but I thought we did well considering the conditions. Cold, wet and tired, we headed back to the campgound not completely disappointed. The brats, taters and couple of cold ones we had while we chewed the fat around the fire made for a nice day’s end.

What is going on here? Is that a lawn chair in the river? And, is Shoalieman laying in it?

The fishing picked up a little later during Day One

Takin' it easy around the campfire

    Day two dawned with a low of 35 deg. We got Drew off to his next destination on his weekend scouting trip and Shoalieman and I enjoyed our coffee while sharing JA stories with Rose Creek’s custodian. It was cold and we felt it, but we could also sense the day would warm quickly. We’d hoped to do another float, but with the cold temps giving us no reason for an early start, we decided to spend the day wading. I was hoping to show Shoalieman the area of the legendary pit bull run in, and this would give me my chance. We spent the morning there and found the fishing was still slow. We decided to explore a nice looking area downriver and we find some spots that look great, only to have one fatal flaw. Very little aquatic vegetation, no bugs, no bait. It was a series of drops with heavy current and the slickest rocks I’ve ever stepped on. We carefully make our way upriver, finally move some fish in the pockets above a suspension bridge some 300 yds upriver from where we started. But they’re only chasing and not taking. We snap a couple of pictures, take a break and ride to another spot.

This looks like great water, but it wasn't. The rocks were completely scoured of vegetation and the rocks were the slickest I've ever waded.

Shoalieman atop the "Last Bridge," one of several suspension bridges that were built to help children cross the river to school

    Shoalieman committed to fishing the day with his fly rod, so we go to a spot where we’ve both had some luck in the past. It’s a section with deeper water where the river narrows and makes a bend. I volunteer to make the wade across the river and come up the far side. By the time I get across Shoalieman is almost out of sight upriver on the other side. I forgot how fast he works when he wades. Feeling I need to make up ground I work the shallower water against the bank where I only see a smallie crashing bait and spook out some decent ones barely moving in pockets beneath the trees. We’d been seeing a lot of fry and I wonder if those fish were spent from spawning. By the time I make my way upriver out of the deeper water, Shoalieman is well out of sight. I’m thinking he’ll only go so far because the water gets really shallow where’s he’s headed. No fish of any consequence to be caught there. I decide I’ll get out of the river and find a tree to sit under and catch him hiking back down to the truck. I find a suitable tree, lay down my gear, lean back, tip my hat over my eyes and proceed to fall asleep. I wake up and look at my watch and see it’s been half an hour. No Shoalieman, so I get my truck and head upriver to find him.

    I finally find him way upriver from where we started. I give him a start as I greet him again and he asks me where I’ve been. I tell him about my nap and he tells me about the fish he’s been catching. 8 in the last 45 minutes, to be exact. I get my rod and the next 2 hours was as enjoyable as any time I‘ve spent fishing. Shoalieman going upriver on one side with his purple LE Bugger and me on the other with my purple and white Clouser, getting bite after bite from smallies hanging in the deeper pockets of this wide, shallow stretch. Seemed like ever available pocket had a smallie in it. And in the shallower water, all the takes were extremely visual. Not real big fish, of course, a couple around 12 and one went 14, but man was it fun catching those aggressive fish. Shoalieman got a real kick out of it on his fly rod and we both remembered why we love this river so much. It’s not always about catching big fish. Sometimes it’s about being in a beautiful setting , taking what the river has to offer and enjoying it.

A nice 12 incher on the fly

Closeup of the 12 incher. Beautiful fish those LT smallies.

The 14 incher that was the best fish of the weekend for me.

    As the sun went down, the fishing slowed a bit. Even though, Shoalieman hooked into what we believe to have been at least a 2 lber. only to lose it. As we ended our fishing day, we gave some pointers to yet another confused trout fisherman on a bass river and Shoalieman had lost his granny hat downriver to the breeze. A couple of guys in a 2 man ‘toon had been nice enough to scoop it up and deposit it on the bank. We picked it up on the while we walked back to the truck, and headed back to the camp for a shower satisfied with the day’s fishing. We made it to Shoney’s before they closed, had a nice feast and finished the day sinking into our camp chairs around the fire with the last of the brews. We both agreed it was a great campout, despite the fact the weather wasn‘t what we‘d hoped.