North Carolina Trout Fishing

North Carolina Trout Fishing

4/20/26 

 Visiting my Two youngest son’s in North Carolina we came together and went fishing. They took me to the Catawba River Sunday morning. The water looked in beautiful condition but the few places we fished we had very few strikes and didn’t catch any trout. In the afternoon we went to a smaller creek that was stocked a week or so ago. It was a much smaller, narrow stream with shallow riffles but quite a few deeper holes about. 

 We spread out along the creek as we headed upstream from where we started. We all found fish but they were pretty spooky. The sun shown through the trees upon the water so it was easy to see the groups of trout in deeper holes which mostly didn’t even look as deep as thigh high. Casting a streamer towards them was like tossing a tear-gas bomb at a bunch of protesters. They scattered momentarily but eventually returned as a group. Some of the trout would look at other offerings but refused to play our game. My son Giddeon was the only one that convinced a trout to bite. He was fishing above them from a bank. Maybe they couldn’t see him but anyhow he caught one. After that he and my son, Jesse Pete, went walking upstream to explore the creek before we headed home

 On the way back they told me up creek, from where we were, there was a string of trout looking like a group of steelhead ready to make a run upstream. They convinced me to fish the creek on Monday and get there early. Monday morning I was up early and ready to go.

 After assembling my Hardy Demon 3 weight fly rod and getting my gear together in the parking area I headed for the creek. The water was just as white tequila clear than the day before so I knew I had to try and be concealed. I found the area they informed me about. Sure enough there were plenty of trout in the stretch of a pool strung out much like a row of a bunch of people in line waiting for the doors to open at an arena event. I tried fishing for them from behind them, across from them and finally upstream from them. I sat on the stony bank like a kid pondering what to do? 

 I had boxes of offerings in my fly vest. I tried many varieties of flies from dries, wet flies and a few nymphs. Nymph fishing wasn’t feasible because of the stony, rocky bottom and slow moving current. The ones I did catch went like this;

 There were a few trout rising in different areas in the wide pool. My first catch was with a #16 elk hair caddis. I missed the first rise to it but was able to hook the second one.

He wasn’t a big trout so I didn’t take a picture. 

 My second catch was with a #18 Blue Wing Olive para-dun with a CDC post. The trout came up and slurped it in and I quickly wrist the rod for the hook set. As calm as the trout looked, just holding stationary, once hooked they took off and fought wildly in the wide pool. I got him to the net safely. The small dry was neatly hooked into the crook of his mouth. 

 I tried a couple of wet flies but couldn’t get a bite. On one occasion I knotted on a soft hackle wet fly and tossed it across creek from my sitting position. The dry fly didn’t have time to sink before a trout rose to it and grabbed it. I jerked the 3 weight up and back and the trout took off like a wild cat. It took some time, on my 6x tippet, but I was able to net him also. 

 After that they didn’t appear to want anything. By now the sun was pretty much above the far hillside. The water was as clear as a gin and tonic. The trout that I was able to see looked like they were still, relaxing under the sunshine. 

 The trout have been stocked a week or so ago here in NC. I figured, when they were hungry, they were used to the natural nymphs and hatches in the creek. They wouldn’t take any more of my caddis or small mayfly imitations. I tried wet flies and, except for the one on top, they appeared not to go for them. I was till determined to catch another. 

 A guy I have tied flies for, for steelhead, asked me to tie a glo-bug called a Dead Egg. When he showed me one it looked like a food pellet that the hatcheries feed the trout they raise. I had a couple in my steelhead fly box with sucker spawn and a variety of glo-bug patterns. I picked out one of the Dead eggs and knotted it on the 6x tippet. Standing up now I tossed the Dead egg across creek. I couldn’t see it, as the far side was shaded from the sun. It didn’t appear to drift very far when the line pulled. I just wasn’t prepared and missed the hook up. This did give me a good feeling that maybe the other trout might be interested. 

 A couple of casts later I watched as the Dead eggs drifted into a line of trout. A trout swam up and examined it like he was deciding what flavor it was. Kind of trying to pick out a jellybean, sniffing it, not knowing what it’s going to taste like. I watched as the Dead eggs was still drifting as the trout back swum deciding what or when to make a move. I saw the trout dart at the egg and when I saw the white of his mouth open, I waited a split second, and raised and rod to set the hook. I felt the rod bend and line tightened and watched the trout turn and take off down creek into deeper water. There wasn’t much space for him to go as the pool of water spilled over a narrow channel of riffling water. He tugged and pulled on the line as he circled the pool of water. I got nearer to the water and knelt down and netted the frisky rainbow.

 I played around and caught two more small rainbows before getting tired of teasing the pooled up trout and decided to head down creek. I lit a cigar and carefully crossed the tail end of the pool and walked the bank looking for trout. 

 Slowly walking the bank, trying to be inconspicuous, I spotted a few trout holding mid-creek. I was pretty sure they saw me upstream from them but I decided to try for them. I crouched down along the bank, on dry land, and made a cast up creek from them letting the Dead egg drift into their sight. A couple of trout swam up and inspected it. One must have noticed something odd and swam away. The other looked skeptical as it kept its distance as if smelling for a satisfying scent from the egg pattern. Not fully satisfied it turned a swam off. I gave a couple more drifts towards the half dozen of trout holding in the deeper water but they appeared wary of my offering. 

 I stood up briefly and noticed there were a few trout downstream on my side of the creek. I wasn’t sure they had saw me so I knelt down again. Sidearm backcasting up creek I tossed the egg down, mid-stream across creek. I watched as the egg pattern started to drift towards the trout holding in the back end of the deeper water. Suddenly a trout darted for the egg pattern and I waited till I saw the white of its mouth. He sucked in the egg without any hesitation but before he felt it was a trap it was too late. I reared back on the rod, as I stood up, and set the hook before the trout could spit it out. He took off across creek and some line slipped through my tensioning finger. As the rod arced the trout turned and swam down creek without me letting him have any more line. He tugged with head shakes and swam mid creek. In the meantime the other trout were swimming around as if clearing room for the frantic swimming hooked trout. After a short he settled some and I was able to get him nearer to me. He splashed the surface as I knelt down to net him.  

  I caught one more on the Dead egg of the few trout down creek before calling it a day. 

~doubletaper

9 to 5

                                                                                9 To 5

                                                                              4/08/26 

 I got to the small creek around 9:00. It was another chilly morning in the ANF. I don’t think it was 40 degrees yet but I was going trout fish’n. By the time I got my waders and boots on, my 7’6” 4 weight Powel rod together and ready it might of been near 9:30. I wasn’t late by any means! There was no clock to punch in, no employees to contend with or boss to cope with. It’s great being retried!

 I stepped into the creek and the mountain water surrounded my ankles and shins. The chilly outside temps might have shivered my senses but the cold chilled water was an eye opener. I knew the best position, to get a good drift in the current, was to cross the creek. I took careful time crossing the stony millstones that moved beneath my boots. Once on the other side I walked the bank, not wanting to disturbed the water before stepping in. Checking my surroundings I’d be mostly roll casting. The laurel and thin branches, that overhung some of the bank behind me, was definitely something I wanted to avoid.

 I started to roll cast a Woolly Bugger across and let it swing down creek. After a few casts I finally got a bump. I kept at it and finally got a hook up. My first trout took a Woolly Bugger. 

 Not getting another strike for some time I considered my options. I was prepared for a long day on the water so I had plenty of offering options in my pockets. I selected a Triple Threat streamer and hooked it to my Fas-Snap. Looking up in the overhanging tree I saw a bunch of fishing line hanging down from the branches besides an indicator and some brand of spinning lure. I figure the line was cast from the other side of the creek or the water was too high to retrieve it from my side. Anyhow, if fishermen were using minnows my Triple Threat might entice more strikes. I always figure bait fishermen, using minnows, don’t always hook up with a trout when a fish grabs it. In turn the loose minnow drifts down the creek and eventually another fish will grab it. I mean, when did you ever see a dead minnow laying on the bottom of a creek in clear water?

 I hooked into 2 out of three of the next trout on the Triple Threat. They evidently were more interested in the minnow looking streamer than the bugger. I took my time slowly wading down creek some with casting the Triple Threat.

 

 I had a couple of taps but nothing hard enough to hook one. I waded back up stream and stood ankle deep looking around me. 

 Behind me the forest trees stood tall with their bare branchy limbs almost begging for warmer weather. It may sound silly but sometimes I think trees have feelings also. After a freezing brutal winter I’m sure there is a sign that they want to sprout and leave old man winter behind. Up creek the water branches out on both sides of the small grassy island that I crossed over. Across creek a narrow mountain stream run off gushes down the bank, from under a culvert, and brings colder water into the main stem of the creek.  The far bank-side is steep but there is enough room for a fisherman to stand along the dry bank, or on the big boulders, and cast into the water. Downstream the creek widens into shallower tumbling riffles as far as the eye can see. I’m sure there’s pocket water that trout could be holding in. After my observation I pull out a dark brown cigar from my pocket and lite it.  

 I switched to a Woolly Bugger and decided to cast up creek and let it drift down creek as if I’m nymph fishing. To my surprise the line shoots upstream and I quickly raise the rod down creek and quickly strip back the slack line. I see a flash, below the surface, of a fish turning down creek. I raise the rod directly over my head trying to bring in as much line as possible. The line moves down creek and it isn’t till I feel the resistance on the other end that the trout is still hooked. I play him towards me and net him.

 I continue fishing the bugger casting up creek again and across creek. I catch one more up creek and a couple more down from where I stood before deciding to make my way down creek to another section I’ve caught many trout in years past. 

 On the way wading down creek, fishing riffles, I hook up with a couple of smaller trout on the bugger. Getting to where I want to make a stand and fish I look the water over.            

 Water tumbles over heavy boulders and rock ledges just about clear across stream. The waves settle down and is split by a half submerged boulder just out from me. The water continues on in maybe thigh high water in spots but has good rolling surface current. On the far side, out from the far bank, the water waves up against a big boulder that rims the bank. The water looks deeper there but trying to cast across that far, with hazard branches behind me and cross currents, once my fly line hits the water just is a waste of time trying. Down further from the big boulder there in a better chance of getting an offering to that side of the creek. I focus on what is in front of me and down creek within easier casting distance.

 Casting the Woolly Bugger across creek I let it swing across current and down creek. First swing and a trout grabbed it before it ever swung down creek very far. If was if he wasn’t going to give any other trout an opportunity. After the hook set he shook it’s head a couple of times, tugging as if he couldn’t believe he was hooked. He took off down and across creek continuing tugging. Down a ways he swam mid-stream and I let him calm down, letting him tug a bit, before starting to bring him in. I had the rod extended out towards the middle of the creek and he slowly followed upstream as I brought in line. Once across from me he gave a hard tug and swung around heading back downstream. The top section bowed towards the trout but I only gave him little line which made him turn up creek again. We had a short battle just in front of me before I got him splashing to the net. H was a nice healthy energetic rainbow! 

 I caught one brown trout on the bugger before the trout shut down. It was if my caught trout made such a ruckus, disturbing the water, that they were wary of any kind of streamer passing by. Since I caught a brown trout I decided to cast a wet fly above a small black stone nymph. Three quarters across creek is where I was aiming. There was a good stream of water and I was aiming along the inside crease. I made a cast and my offerings landed pretty much across creek where I wanted. I mended line a little upstream with little slack so my offerings would drop before entering slower water down creek. Wham, a trout grabbed one of my offerings like it was one of my buggers getting away. I reared back and had a trout on the line. It ended up to be a brown trout as I anticipated. I caught one more and missed two before I gave up on that combination. 

 I played around with them for another hour or so offering them an assortment of dries, nymphs and streamers like a peddler on a street corner. 

 

  There was a riser clear across the creek. Occasionally he’d come up around the same area. Trying to get a dry fly to settle down long enough for a take, because of the converging cross currents, I decided to cast a Woolly Bugger. I had to wade up to my thighs, which I know I probably scared some trout, but I needed to get enough back casting room for a long forward cast. As I was false casting I was stripping line out of the spool. I felt the rod load behind me and forward cast the weighted bugger upstream from the riser. I was a little short but let the bugger swing down creek not to disturb the water. I reared back the rod and the bugger surfaced and took to the air. I stripped in line and forward a single haul cast and pointed the tip towards the opposite bank. The bugger followed and dropped, with a plop, near the far bank up from the riser. I straitened the rod a little down creek and anticipated a take anytime during the swing. Wham! He grabbed as if he was waiting for a full meal instead of small snacks. He wasn’t letting any other trout steal HIS meal. I reared back line and raised the rod high getting all line off the water. The line tightened and the rod bowed good into the mid section. The fish gave a hard tug and headed down creek. The spool spit out tensioned line and the top section bounced with each hard tug. Down creek was shallower and I saw the swirls the trout was making fighting the line. He still stayed near the far side so I swung the rod down creek, horizontal with the surface water, to put side pressure on him. He tugged a bit but followed the pull toward the middle of the creek and just about stopped holding in deeper knee deep water. I couldn’t see him yet but I suspected the trout being a brown because he stayed low and didn’t rise to the top. 

 I swung the rod up creek trying to force him upstream. He followed until he got across from me. Feeling the side pressure again he decided to swim down creek again. I didn’t give him much line and let the rod do the resistance more than the reel drag. He turned quickly. We had a short battle of wits after that and I finally got him coming my way. Nearer me he tried for a quick escape like a handcuffed shoplifter but I had a good hold on him and was able to scoop him up in the net. A fine brown trout laid eagerly in the net wanting to get turned loose. 

 Back upstream, where I started, I was trying wet flies and nymphs seeing if any trout were interested. I cast up creek and high sticked the nymph and wet fly and caught a couple of trout. They actually took the nymphs up creek before my offerings even got across from me. 

 Making a cast, into the colder water emptying into the main branch, with a Woolly Bugger, I picked up a frisky rainbow.

 

 Waiting for my cigar to burn down, to give me a reason to leave, I was just trying different offerings like an old time carpetbagger offering different kinds of elixirs to a group of town folks. They weren’t interested. I waded down from the faster water and casting a bugger near the far boulders. I let slack line out so the bugger would drop deeper before swinging down creek. I caught another rainbow but he wasn’t worth a picture. 

 I took the last couple of puffs from my burned down stogie and called it quits for the day. When I got back to the truck it was nearing 5:00. I undressed out of my waders and headed back to my camper without having to punch a clock.

~doubletaper

Birthday Fish’n

                                                                         Birthday Fish’n

                                                                               4/21/26 

 I decided to fish the delayed harvest area on Wilson Creek in the Pisgah Nation Forest in North Carolina for my birthday. Down at the creek I lit up a cigar and prepared to relax and have fun fishing. The sun was still rising above the mountain side but threw shadows of anything standing on the other side of the creek. Birds were chirping and the sound of the water tumbling and waves over rocks and boulders made a soothing and quaint sound for an enjoyable adventure.

 The water was gin clear and mostly shallow in between the deeper holes which were more like big pond water. How deep I couldn’t tell you but at spots the deep pools were maybe encompassing 20 yard to 30 yards. At the tail end they would spill water down creek into wide shallow waves and riffles, which most of the time, weren’t any more than knee to shin deep. With the sun shining down on the gin clear creek the depth below the riffles were deceiving. 

 The morning was slow going without a strike as I casted streamers. The first location I stopped at yielded nothing. Though there were small bugs flying around I didn’t see anything rising. I was surprised that I didn’t even get a strike around the many brush and downed branches along the waters edge. 

 My second stop I added weight to the tippet and was casting out into a deep pool as far as I could. I finally got a strike and pulled in a speckled trout. 

 Later on I hooked into a rainbow that took the bugger and I missed a take. By then quite a few hours had passed by. I was getting a lot of exercise wading and walking the stony creek banks as I fished and walking back to the truck. 

 When I got back to the truck it was nearing 1:00. The sun was up above shining bright. I decided to drive up creek and see if there was any other place that looked good to fish wanting good riffling water emptying into a deeper section. 

 My last stop was up from a bridge. There was a small family taking in the sun, on a blanket, on the sandy bank. Across the big pool of water a man was fishing off the big boulders and, I assume, his daughter was playing around on the rocks. I was almost ready to call it a day but decided to walk down to the creek, from my truck, and see what was above the bridge. 

 There was a nice narrow channel of wavy water streaming down from a big pool above. The water looked to be maybe knee deep in spots but mostly looked shallow. I took a stand, away from the water, and started to cast a Woolly Bugger towards the far bank where it was shaded. I only casted a couple of times without a strike when I noticed a rise just downstream in the shallow water near my side of the creek. Well, though it may of been a small minnow or fish, I decided to knot on a dry fly. 

 I looked into my fly box and picked out a #14 Elk hair caddis. I knotted it on to my 4x tippet and doped it up with dry fly dressing. I really didn’t know what to expect. I made a cast and dropped my caddis on the wavy current three quarters of the way across. I was still trying to locate my fly on the glare of the wavy water when I saw a quick rise to the top of the waves. I wasn’t sure where my caddis was but instinctually I raised and reared back the rod and pulled in slack line. The tip section bowed, the line tightened and pointed towards the water with a frisky fighting fish on the other end. I walked to the waters edge and played the trout to the net. You talk about a happy guy on his birthday. This was it! Catching a nice frisky trout on a dry fly and getting it to the net.  

  Grandpa always said that where there’s one there’s two. Casting out the caddis would sink earlier then I wanted. I decided to nip off some of the 4x tippet and knot on a section of 5x. The caddis I was using was pretty much drenched and tore up. I took another #14 caddis from my caddis fly box and knotted it on. I made a cast nearer the shaded far bank and watched as the caddis drifted towards an overhanging branchy bank-side brush. A trout rose, splashing the surface, immediately and I was Jerry on the spot. I raised the rod and another trout was fighting at the end of the line. He scurried about tugging and pulling till I got him to the net. It was a fine looking rainbow. 

 I missed one more quick rise on the #14 caddis. In time I tried a couple of different caddis in the narrow channel without another take. I finished casting streamers in  the deeper water upstream from the bridge without a strike. 

 Though it was a long day, without many strikes, the two I caught on dry caddis was the topping of the day!!

Happy Birthday to me. 

~doubletaper

Casual Monday

                                                                        Casual Monday

4/13/26

Having trout fished everyday since Easter Sunday, except the 7th because of a hard rain and wind, I decided to just casually trout fish on Monday, no hurry. Each day I’ve fished I was usually in waders for 5 to 7 hours each day. Well, Easter I fished for maybe an hour or so because Tionesta Creek was high and muddy. Each day I fished was against the wind. Sometimes the gusts were pretty much unbearable like it got to be today. Except for two days on smaller creeks. I used my 5 weight fast action rod fishing Tionesta Creek to try to cut through the wind. Most of the time it was against a cross wind gust so I had to use extra energy to cast a weighted streamer throughout the day. Each one of those days I came back to the camper tired and fatigued. Monday I decided to just casually take my time and try not to use as much energy. So, I thought!

 It was sprinkling in the morning when I was ready to go. They were calling for high wind gusts throughout the day and a possible storm in the evening. I dressed for the rainy conditions and maybe a little warmer than I needed to, being it was going to get into the high 60’s. The overcast morning looked worse than it turned out though the wind gusts were pretty bad at times that I had to wait for the gusts to die down before trying to cast.

 The section of the Tionesta Creek I planned on fishing I’ve fished many times every year. I drove up and parked at an empty campsite. I assembled the 5 weight 9’ fast action Icon rod, got my gear on and grabbed my water bottle and three cigars. I walked up the road and walked down to the creek where I wanted to start and fish my way back to the truck.

 Starting off the wind wasn’t very strong at all so I easily casted my streamers across creek short to longer casts towards the far bank which, because of the deeper water, couldn’t really get as near to the far side that I would of liked. It took some time before I got my first strike. He grabbed the bugger like he was late for breakfast. I pulled the rod  up and back quickly and set the hook. He was pretty frisky as I brought him to the net. This gave me a good reason to lite up my first cigar.  

 Till I got back to my truck I caught quite a few trout in the long stretch of water I fished. ( I wasn’t in a hurry at all.) Just relaxing, trout fishing and smoking another cigar!      

 It took sometime and the closer I got to my truck the gusts of wind picked up more often. By now it was about 2:30. I was deciding to brave the windy conditions but since it didn’t look like rain or any storm clouds I decided to fish downstream. I took a good gulp of water and relaxed a bit before continuing on. 

 Back down at the creek I started casting a Woolly Bugger as far as I could across creek. The cross wind was pretty much constant now but I was able to get the bugger cross creek with a lot of casting energy. At times the gusts were so bad I had to wait it to calm down. I wasn’t too far down creek from the truck when I was getting strikes. If I missed the first light strike I would let the bugger continue to swing and twitch it now and then. Most of the time the trout would follow it, I presume, and I teased it enough that it would grab it hard enough and I would catch it. It had me laughing to myself each time I caught a trout this way teasing it. Most were rainbows and some were pretty frisky jumping into the air trying to shake the hook loose. Some hooked fish never made it to the net. Catching a brown trout was a treat as I caught very few. 

 I made a far cross creek cast and watched the bugger splash down on the surface. I was holding the rod close to the water at an angle down creek. As the bugger continued to swing I watched the arc in the floating line. I watched the floating line shoot outward and felt the take. I yanked the rod up and back. I felt the top section bow towards the take and felt a strong fish pulling the line. It felt heavy but I was playing it against the undercurrent so it was pretty much hard to tell how big it was. I was bringing the trout in pretty handedly as I was bringing it up creek mid-stream. He kept his distance but wasn’t frisky or didn’t appear to be in a hurry to try to get away. As I was bringing in line and the fish towards me I saw the golden trout come into view. I was surprised he didn’t fight too hard as I was getting him closer and closer to me. I guess when he felt he was too close is when he decided to battle it out. He took off across creek tugging the line and bending the top section into the mid section. We battled it out for a time. I had a tight grip on the cork handle and fighting a heavy fish like this I actually rest the back end of the handle against the inside of my wrist for leverage. This gives me more control of the rod. With the golden trout closer he wasn’t going to cooperate very easily. He splashed the surface and then dove deep trying to take line. I let him have a little line and then tighten my grip on the line after he swam a ways. The rod sections bowed and I forced the golden closer to me. Bringing the rod up the golden surfaced and I was able to scoop him in the net. He flopped around a bit and then settled down. What a surprise! I had no idea he was out there and didn’t celebrate, to myself, until I netted him. After all the commotion he looked happy to see me after all!

 I fished a little longer but not much longer. The constant wind got stronger and the gusts were too fierce to compete against. I did catch two more trout and missed a couple of strike before calling it quits.  

 The bank was too steep to climb and I had to wade the water against the current to exit to my truck. As my grandfather would say after a long day hunting, “I’m tuckered out.” 

 I guess my Casual easy going Monday wasn’t as casual as I intended.

 ~doubletaper