09-05-97 Hiwassee River Trip Report
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note: In the summer of 2003 I decided to start archiving some of my trip reports. I remember some from the past that I wish I had archived. I think I can remember saving the original report for this trip somewhere, but I haven’t been able to find it. It may have been lost when I moved the site from one ISP to another, that’s happened several times over the years. Anyway, below is the report as I recall it now, 9-29-07. If I ever find the original report, it will be interesting to see how it differs!
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I started my website sometime around 1998. My interest in computers started in college, back then they taught engineers to program in basic. In the late 1980’s home computers became readily available, and I started wth a vic20, and eventually moved up to a commodore 64. I used to get online to local bulletin boards, and made a false start a time or 2 with trial internet services, but it was pretty iffy. I finally moved up to a pc laptop, and then a desk top. Around 1998 I tried the internet again, worked out ok, and decided to try setting up my own website.
There are a number of reasons why I decided to start a website about fishing the Hiwassee. When I was a kid, our local barber was a flyfisherman. He kept sporting magazines in his barber shop, talked about fishing the Tellico, and even showed me how to make a fly tying vise from an old broomstick. We lived next to a small branch where we fished for minnows. I tied a fly using sewing thread and a feather that I pulled out of a pillow. The first dace I caught on it was so small that he could only get the barb in his mouth, but he was hooked, and so was I! My brother and I fished popping bugs on cane poles for bream and bass, and eventually got cheap Japanese fly rods at the hardware store and tried trout.
Up until 1993 I fished mostly small streams, my favorite was Goforth Creek. I still prefer a short rod. The big snow of ’93 dumped so much timber in small streams that they weren’t fishable, and during that time I got used to fishing the Hiwassee.
I joined Trout Unlimited, found an application at what used to be Adam’s Flyshop, and went to a meeting. I payed close attention and learned all I could from the other folks. I first fished Little Rock Island with a friend, Dennis Lowe, and something just clicked. Most of my big trout have been caught there, and that’s where I want my ashes scattered.
At the time the Trout Unlimited magazine had articles that featured particular rivers, and they always published a little block called “if you go” that gave info about lodging, tackle, eateries, and such. The Hiwassee had been a difficult river for me to learn to fish, as it is for many people. I thought a website about the river might be worthwhile. People are often torn between bragging about their fishery, and wanting to keep it secret. My philosophy has been that if people fish the river, management agencies will devote resources to it, so I launched the site.
Besides, I had caught a big fish and had a picture of it! I checked books out of the library about html, and gave it a try.
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Typically I would get to the river at daybreak, park at the railroad trestle, and hike up the tracks to Little Rock Island. For some years around that time we had plenty of rain, and when the water runs constantly, there are 2 pools below the top of the island on the railroad side that hold good fish. I would usually climb down the bank and start at the lower of the pools, then work my way up.
I don’t remeber a lot of detail about most of the trip now, but I usually managed to catch a limit. This was one of several trips that year when I caught a trophy section limit, 2 fish over 14 inches. The first I caught that morning, a 14″ rainbow. Actually, it was one of the few fish I’ve ever caught on the Hiwassee that had parasites, and it was pretty lean. At this time, I’ve never personally caught more than 2 fish 14″ or better in the same day, but I know a number of people who have. I probably caught it on a wet sz 12 brown hackle peacock, which was what I fished most of the time back then.
I would have worked my way up through the top pool and to the ledges above the island, then across. There was a deep fast run on the other side of the island, but if I waded on out the ledge there was an area where I could wade down to the next ledge and then back across to the island. From there I could walk down to the next ledge and, if I felt brave enough, wade all the way across to fish the really heavy run on the trail side of the river, but it was very tough wading. This trip I fished the big hole above the ledge by the island, and the big hole below the next ledge. I lost a big fish there. I usually play big fish very carefully, and lose very few of them. This one took me into a brush pile.
I went on down the island. The undergrowth gets very heavy, and there is a fast deep branch that crosses over. I came back to the rail side and waded across a ledge below my favorite pools. I took a lunch break, then got back to work. I had been experimenting with a crawfish pattern. Back then I sometimes kept big fish, and when I dressed them I noticed the browns usually had a lot of crawfish in their stomachs, made the flesh salmon colored. Rainbows were more likely to have warpaint shiners, and they were pink.
I fished the pattern from a ledge. I missed a couple of fish, and got a good look at them. They appeared to be trophy fish.
I waded on up to the next ledge, just below a 3′ drop. I stripped out a lot of line and worked the fly with a motion I had developed that I hoped simulated a swimming crawfish. I got a hard take. It felt like a good fish, I couldn’t move it. The current was heavy there, and my usual practice was to wade back down to the next ledge and land the fish in the eddy below it, so that’s where I went.
I kept pressure on the fish, just kept a nice bend in the rod. Too much pressure gives them something to work against, and every time they shake their heads the hook hole wears bigger. I still could not move the fish, so I waded on down into the eddy, and out as far as I could go.
I remember some time during all this an osprey came flying straight up the river and over me, fairly low. I still couldn’t move the fish, and at this point about all I hoped for was that I might get the fish close enough to see what I had. Landing it did not seem likely. The fish finally moved. I was using a 6′ or so fly rod that I had made from a broken spinning rod. It was a phase I went through. The reel I used was a “crappie reel”. It looked like a fly reel and served the same purpose, to hold the line, but was only big enough to hold half a line and no backing,maybe about 40′. The fish was nice enough to confine its runs to the pool, but several times it came close to spooling me. Every time the fish would change direction, the tippet would slide from one side of its snout across to the other, and it would feel for an instant like the hook had come loose. I forgot to breathe every time that happened.
I really don’t know how much time passed, but it was a lot. It wasn’t just my arm that was getting tired, it was my back and shoulders! Eventually I worked the fish close enough so I could see a dark shape like a log moving slowly through the water. Then he would decide to take off again and I would lose all the line I had gained. Some time during all this a train went by going to Copperhill.
In time the fish tired enough so I could get it close enough to see the big spots. I swear the fish looked 3′ long in the water! I could guide it around, but couldn’t move it to the surface. He took off again a time or 3, but eventually I could lead him into shallower water, and turn his runs. I still couldn’t lift him off the bottom. I had a small cheap net, but he wouldn’t fit in it. I ended up reaching down, slipping the net over his head, and wrapping my arm around his tail.
I spread the fish out on the grass. Measuring by my rod, I thought he was 22″, and that matched the biggest trout I had personally seen up to that time. Later, a tape showed him to be 23″. I marvelled at him.
I had a throw away camera, but wanted to be in the picture. I put the fish on a stringer and waited for some one to come by. I asked a kayaker to take a photo for me, but he was in a hurry, said there would be some more folks by in a little bit. Sure enough, another group came by, and was willing to help. They were impressed with the fish. The photo is below:
After they left, I tried to revive the fish, but it had just been handled too much, and my heart sank. I decided I might as well get it mounted, so I headed out. I had a 2-1/2 mile hike back to my car with plenty of heat and humidity. The fish got its revenge. the only way I had to carry it was in the net over my shoulder with the tail sticking up, and every step the tail slapped me in the side of the head! Several times that summer I had seen wild boar on the tracks during that hike, and I was usually cautious, but I was in a hurry, and just didn’t have time to fool with them.
The guy that mounted the fish did not do a good job, and I’ve never had any desire at all to mount another. I thought I was onto something with the crawfish pattern, but every time I’ve fished it since then, all I’ve caught is chubs! This was very probably the biggest trout of my life.