In Finding the Catawba River

 

In Finding the Catawba

2/07/2021

 After spending a couple of hours trying to find the catch and release waters of the Henry Fork I decided to search for the special regulation area near Glenn Alpine. I have the Atlas of North Carolina Trout Fishing Map. It shows the rivers, forks and creeks stocked with trout as well as wild trout waters. It shows interstates and main routes but does not show any secondary roads.

 

  It was only talking to an old friendly geezer on my way along the Henry Fork open waters that I found out the dirt road leading up the mountain was not privately owned as posted. With the snow on the road he doubted I could make it up the dirt road anyhow. It looked pretty bad what I was able to see so I took his advice and turned around.

  It was getting late in the afternoon and I really wanted to fish. I was hoping to find the Special Regulation Waters of the Catawba River without much wasted time. Without secondary roads on the map all I could tell was the project waters were somewhere between the town of Glenn Alpine and Lake James.

  After an hour finding a main route around Lake James I started taking roads to my left in hopes of finding the project waters. I think it was the third left, off the main route, I saw a parking lot of vehicles and the river. I found the road leading to the parking lot, I think is Powerhouse road. When I pulled into the parking area I was at the Handicap Access Hatchery supported waters. I knew the project waters couldn’t be too far down river.

  In the parking lot I saw a fisherman, at his tailgate, looking as if he was done fishing. His wet waders were in the bed of his truck as well was a spinning rod. I stopped and asked him where the Special Regulation Waters were and you would of thought I guessed the ‘Who Done It’ caricature without any clues. He not only told me how to get there, besides bragging about the big trout that could be caught, but had me follow him to where he usually fishes it at. Was this a trap?

  After driving down the road a mile or three he pulled off the side of the road next to posted signs and skeletal deer carcasses and informed me this was it. He sounded genuine in his North Carolina accent.

  After putting on our waders he even took out a fly rod. It was only a 2 weight he told me but was the only one he was carrying at the time. I followed him pass the posted signs and along a path through the heavy pines. Somewhere along the path we turned off to the right still walking through the wooded pines and brush. The whole time he was talking I was listening for banjos. The old rubber boot and red t-shirt hanging from a tree branch didn’t bother me as much as the one-eyed, pigtail stuffed doll with the faded torn skirt thrown in the bushes did. It kind of gave me goosebumps on my arms. Almost brought a tear to my eye. Once we got to the river though I was feeling much better.

  The river was wide where we were at and flowing as clear as a jar of moonshine. Not as wide as the Tuckasegee, which I fished the past week, but wide enough that two fishermen can fish both sides without interfering with each other. It was shallow enough, looking thigh high deepest in most areas, that one could wade clear across river. There were nice riffles down below that looked deep enough to hold feeding trout as well as deeper water. I could see no exposed boulders or log jams within the middle river section that would hamper casting or snagging hazards. Along the banks there were a few branchless fallen trunks, as well as a posted sign, and plenty of overhanging branches but for the most part all were accessible to cast to from out in the river. Upriver I could see the lengthy bridge which we parked before reaching it.

  As I stepped in the river it didn’t feel as cold as the mountain streams and creeks I had been fishing in. Though he told me the bigger trout like to hug the banks out from the main current I waded right for the riffles down stream. He started fishing the bank side from where we entered in the not so fast rough water. As I waded I felt the current around my legs wasn’t too strong to push me off balance easily.

  I started casting an olive Woolly Bugger towards the far bank in a slower current on the far side of a riffling section of water. I let it swing deep within the riffles and once the line straightened I started to strip it towards me when a fish grabbed it like a ‘T’ shirt being thrown from a concert stage into the crowd and this recipient wasn’t letting go. With the current the trout felt weightier than it was while giving a good fight on the arcing 5 weight. I turned my head upstream and my new friend was watching me. After I got the brown trout in the net I turned toward him and he was already nearer to me. Even wanting to take a picture of me with my trout with his own phone. I showed him what I was using and gave him a couple of olive buggers. He tied one on immediately and waded back upstream.

 

 

 There was wadeable shallow water mid river where I could fish good water on either side. I waded over and was in water just above my knees. The water deepened within casting distance down stream but also deep enough on both sides to hold fish. After letting my bugger swing through the deeper riffles I let the line straighten for a second or two before stripping it in. I let it dangle in the current twitching the rod tip to give the Woolly Bugger more action. I was stripping it in slowly when a trout grabbed it like a miler grabbing a water bottle midway through a marathon. He held on for a few seconds and then let go just like a marathon runner. It wasn’t long after that I heard John call out he was taking off. I asked him if he caught any trout. He said he had one that got off and a couple of other strikes. When I asked him what on he told me the Woolly Buggers I gave him. He thanked me for the buggers and waded to the bank. I watched as he disappeared through the forest.

  I fished another hour under the sun. I glanced around now and then watching to see if someone was watching me from the banks. The one posted sign along the river bank wasn’t that old or faded like the tin Special Regulation Water sign stuck to a fallen tree trunk. It was just an eerie feeling I guess out in the middle of nowhere, alone and in unfamiliar territory. I felt like a sitting duck. Heck, I didn’t even know if my cell phone had reception if I so needed to call in case of an emergency of some kind. I did catch a couple more brown trout. One more on the Woolly Bugger and one on a #12 black stonefly. The air began to get cooler and when I looked at my watch it was near 4:30. I fished towards the bank while wading in that direction.

 

  I walked through the pines heading at an angle towards where I figured my truck was parked. I found the wider path through the pines and followed it towards the way we came in. Within vision of my truck I saw another truck parked behind it. First I was glad my truck was still there and didn’t get towed but was starting to worry about the other vehicle? I started to wonder if I was going to be confronted by the owner of the posted property or even wondering if a NC officer was waiting for me. When I got to my truck there wasn’t anyone in the other truck. I didn’t see anyone else around nor did I see anyone in the river while I was fishing. I kind of hurriedly changed out of my wading gear and got out of there in my Dodge.

~doubletaper