This Thanksgiving I was fortunate enough to have an entire week without hospital responsibilities and great weather to boot. No better time to go fishing.
First I drove west from Charlottesville and met up with Pat & Taylor to fish the Jackson River about 15 miles north of The Homestead Resort. Taylor's dad had added around sixty big rainbows to their stretch of the river a few weeks before, so we spent the whole day catching them on various bugs. Though certainly not the purest form of fishing, it was still provided good practice in fighting and landing big fish. We were also surprised to catch some big 12" fall fish as well.
After settling back in to Georgia for a few days, Steven Pruitt and I finally made a day trip happen after many missed promises. Steven and I went to high school together and were roommates at the University of Georgia. While I worked briefly as a maid at Yellowstone National Park during the summer before medical school, Steven worked as a fly fishing guide at Turpin Meadow Ranch in Moran, Wyoming, which is just north of Jackson. In retrospect Steven probably had the better gig. Anyway, last Wednesday we fished the Toccoa River in the town of Blue Ridge, Georgia with our dads. The weather was not nearly as warm as we were anticipating, and on the way up there was some doubt about the point of even going. But we finally made it and started fishing not long after daybreak below the Blue Ridge Dam. We had the section of river to ourselves for the whole morning, which indicates how cool the weather was considering that the parking lot is often full of vehicles. Steven was fishing about 100 yards below me when I looked up to see him fighting a fish. He yelled upriver for me to come that way so I casually walked over to the river's edge. He again yelled and I then realized that he must have a big fish on and needs help landing it. Sure enough it was a big healthy rainbow that took a size 16 prince nymph from beneath a submerged log. It was a great fish and definitely worth fishing in the cold all morning. And to think that we had questioned making the trip.
After stopping by the local fly shop and filling up with some hot barbeque, we headed upstream to fish the Toccoa River above the dam. The water was relatively high but still very clear and the sun was finally pushing the temperature into the tolerable range. We fished various patterns for several hours with no hookups and finally called it quits in the early afternoon. Another fisherman pulled up just as were breaking down our rods. After correcting our strategy for this section of the river (he strongly favored fishing woolybuggers through the deep holes) he showed us the Oyster bamboo fly rod that he crafted as part of a rod-building class in Blue Ridge. The classes take you through every step of the rod-making process over the course of two weekends or one full week, and in the end you have built your own bamboo rod.
On Thanksgiving day my parents and I went back to fish the Toccoa above the dam, but this time we went several miles father upriver to fish a stretch near the Benton MacKaye Trail, which is named after the Harvard educated conservationist who originated the idea for the Appalachian Trail. Like the AT, the BMT begins at Springer Mountain and works its way north through gentle mountains of Georgia, Tennessee and North Carolina. It crosses over the Toccoa River via a 265 foot swinging bridge, the longest of its kind east of the Mississippi River. The area is beautiful, but the water produced only one 10" rainbow that took a caddis pattern. There are almost certainly more fish to be caught here, and it's worth the drive just to see the bridge.
I was driving back to Charlottesville on Friday afternoon, which ended up being the mildest day of the entire week. The sun was out and it looked like a perfect day to be on a body of water. Unfortunately I was stuck in my truck, driving up I-81 knowing that Mossy Creek must be covered up with bugs right now. Serial calculations on my phone showed that I could be in the parking lot by 4:00 PM, which would only give me one hour of fishable daylight at best. What the hell, I thought. It's better to fish for one hour and watch the sun set on a farm than to have it go down behind me while driving east on I-64. So I drove the extra 20 miles and watched the sun set and missed several fish rising to a BWO. Well worth it. The weather on Sunday was nice as well, and I couldn't resist going back to Mossy to make a more thorough attempt to catch fish. There were two guys in the parking lot getting ready to leave, and one of them introduced himself as James Garrison. In addition to religiously fishing Mossy and nearby streams, he also contributes to the blog Fly Curious. I caught a few small browns on BWOs but couldn't convince any larger fish to rise.
After stopping by the local fly shop and filling up with some hot barbeque, we headed upstream to fish the Toccoa River above the dam. The water was relatively high but still very clear and the sun was finally pushing the temperature into the tolerable range. We fished various patterns for several hours with no hookups and finally called it quits in the early afternoon. Another fisherman pulled up just as were breaking down our rods. After correcting our strategy for this section of the river (he strongly favored fishing woolybuggers through the deep holes) he showed us the Oyster bamboo fly rod that he crafted as part of a rod-building class in Blue Ridge. The classes take you through every step of the rod-making process over the course of two weekends or one full week, and in the end you have built your own bamboo rod.
On Thanksgiving day my parents and I went back to fish the Toccoa above the dam, but this time we went several miles father upriver to fish a stretch near the Benton MacKaye Trail, which is named after the Harvard educated conservationist who originated the idea for the Appalachian Trail. Like the AT, the BMT begins at Springer Mountain and works its way north through gentle mountains of Georgia, Tennessee and North Carolina. It crosses over the Toccoa River via a 265 foot swinging bridge, the longest of its kind east of the Mississippi River. The area is beautiful, but the water produced only one 10" rainbow that took a caddis pattern. There are almost certainly more fish to be caught here, and it's worth the drive just to see the bridge.
I was driving back to Charlottesville on Friday afternoon, which ended up being the mildest day of the entire week. The sun was out and it looked like a perfect day to be on a body of water. Unfortunately I was stuck in my truck, driving up I-81 knowing that Mossy Creek must be covered up with bugs right now. Serial calculations on my phone showed that I could be in the parking lot by 4:00 PM, which would only give me one hour of fishable daylight at best. What the hell, I thought. It's better to fish for one hour and watch the sun set on a farm than to have it go down behind me while driving east on I-64. So I drove the extra 20 miles and watched the sun set and missed several fish rising to a BWO. Well worth it. The weather on Sunday was nice as well, and I couldn't resist going back to Mossy to make a more thorough attempt to catch fish. There were two guys in the parking lot getting ready to leave, and one of them introduced himself as James Garrison. In addition to religiously fishing Mossy and nearby streams, he also contributes to the blog Fly Curious. I caught a few small browns on BWOs but couldn't convince any larger fish to rise.
All in all it was a week of good weather and even better fishing.
this is great stuff guys. I'm an intern in Norfolk (recently moved from the Midwest) and enjoying exploring the waters around here. I just hit up the Rapidan yesterday and have had fun getting to know the mossy and beaver creek as well.
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