Realtor image of the property loaded with trouts, basses and a few brookies.
Wishing for alone time fly fishing and the pleasing visions in a mind’s eye
By Skip Clement
[dropcap]I[/dropcap]n the fall fly fishing is usually on fire, but our sport is so online with the best spots being blogged by assholes trying to outdo the other a-holes on great spots to fish, and written about in minor books that include X marks the spot that leaves no places left where we can fish that we don’t have one or a dozen guests.
When I left Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, decades ago, the state and West Virginia were my backyards, I knew when and where for everything – from mountain spring creeks loaded with brookies, to spots on the Slate River where I never saw anyone for entire seasons. I fished Lake Erie’s spawning steelies that ran in streams no wider than a one-lane road to a gorge in West Virginia with 3- to 4-pound rainbows so willing that a hook was almost all you needed.
I never saw anyone in February fishing for steelhead, never saw anyone in the fall in West Virginia. Some of the discoveries backed by failed treks of physical demands few could take on. So, my conquests of places rich in fish in Pennsylvania and West Virginia are just noted to myself and not seen by anyone, but probably now well known and much fished.
So, now ancient by the passing of time, I fish in the North Georgia mountains and on the famous Chattahoochee River with a guide and nearby lakes with a friend that has a Jon boat. I’ve become accustomed to visuals of fellow anglers, tubers, kayakers, canoeists, iron chuckers, and pontoon drunks.
Images provided courtesy of Thom Glace, award-winning artist.
But this fall I tripped onto a great thing
A friend of mine who has no interest in fishing bought over 45 acres in North Georgia, and on the property, there’s a spring spring-fed creek running through his land with about 2,000 feet being both sides of the ‘creek.’ Too, the ingress and egress properties from his are more extensive and create miles of fishable water that sees no activity except for poachers I have permission to shoot, but not kill. My 9mm Mossberg MC1 will do the trick. I plan on missing, but scaring.
I will never tell you how to find this stretch of fantastic water, only that it is inordinate for 2019. The trouts are not big, but so far, it’s clear there are also browns [Salmo trutta], bows [Oncorhynchus mykiss], redeye bass (Micropterus coosae), and brookies [a char fish Salvelinus fontinalis].
Read Chester Allen, too
There’s a better article on this subject of liking to fish alone by Chester Allen, a lifelong fly angler, journalist, and author, was the outdoor columnist for The Olympian newspaper in Olympia, Washington, for many years. His latest book is “Yellowstone Runners.” Allen also is the author of “Fly-Fishing for Sea-Run Cutthroat.” Allen splits his time between Portland, Oregon and Hood River, Oregon, with plenty of trips to Puget Sound and Yellowstone National Park.
The story is titled Losing the Crowd, and you can read it here . . .
Bison in Yellowstone National Park are very much a part of Chester Allen’s fly fishing story about losing the crowd, or being alone. Photo from Daniel Mayer / Wikimedia Commons.
