TR: The Accidental Angler: A Week in the GSMNP (part 4)

Day 5:

I hiked up the Little River Trail above Elkmont, going much further
than my previous trip two years ago. There were some impressive
sights
(a mini-cascade for example:
http://uweb.txstate.edu/~cv01/littlerivercascade.jpg), and I didn't
wet
a line until I hit the bridge above the Cucumber Gap Trail
(http://uweb.txstate.edu/~cv01/littleriverbridge.jpg), close to 3
miles
up from the trailhead.

I fished up above the bridge,getting my usual fare (for this trip,
anyway) of small fish slashing at my fly and me missing them. After a
while I consulted my map to make sure I really was where I thought I
was
(very existentail, no?). I'd been given advice on this area from a
fellow on another forum, and the basic directions were "start fishing
once you cross the second bridge", but he'd also mentioned Fish Camp
Prong. According to my map, Fish Camp Prong began a bit further
upstream.

I decided to head up a bit further and did in fact find the Goshen
Prong trail and Fish Camp Prong. Getting access to the stream proved
to
be a bit of a challenge, as there was more rhodo coverage than any of
the other areas I had fished, and I didn't really relish the thought
of
bushwhacking through bear country. I did manage to get a shot of the
junction of two of the upper forks of the Little River while I was
the http://uweb.txstate.edu/~cv01/littlerivejunction.jpg

I backtracked to head down to the "second bridge", and met some
backpackers who were heading up the trail, and exchanged small talk.
Small talk for backpackers evidently revolves around bears, as in,
"seen
any bears ... any bear scat?". I assured them I hadn't and I had been
watching, as I was over 4 miles from the trailhead, hadn't seen
another
soul past about 2 miles, and was in an area known for bear activity.
(In fact, the area above Elkmont is where the only confirmed bear
death
in the park occurred.)

We continued on our separate ways, and about 1/4 mile down the
trail
I saw ... you guessed it ... a bear. He was about 75 yards down the
trail from me and moving across the trail as if he'd come up from the
stream. From the way he filled the trail, he had to be an adult. I
hesitated between reaching for my camera and ****ting my pants ... er,
I
mean I started to reach for my camera, and in that instant, he must
have
heard or smelled me, because he was gone. I'd never seen a bear move,
but he got off the trail and up the hillside in a flash.

I paused on the trail; I had to go past him to go down, and I
really
couldn't tell where he might have gone once he got off the trail. I
gave him a wide berth, moving down to the stream when I got near where
I
thought he was, and talking in a loud voice the whole time, "Hey Mr.
Bear ... I'm coming through here ... yoohoo ... better watch out ...
I'm
a trained librarian ...", etc.

Of course I never saw him again, and in retrospect I was honored to
have gotten a glimpse of him in his element ... from afar. :-) I was
also even more alert than ever to any movement in the bush. :-}

Once I reached the "second bridge" I started fishing down, and I
caught a few small bows; just enough to keep me happy. At one very
large pool where I had been fishing a #16 para Adams, I let it dangle
while in the water while I was grabbing my hiking/wading staff to move
further up the pool. Yep, you guessed it again, a rainbow came up out
of nowhere and grabbed the fly, hooking himself. I figured the least
I
could do was to fight him, since he'd gone to all the trouble of
impaling himself on the hook. He was a good fighter and a solid 10"
fish, the largest I'd caught in the GSMNP.

I brought him to hand, looked over my shoulder to see if anyone had
witnessed my "prowess" as a fisherman, and let him go back to his
friends.

A pattern seemed to be establishing itself. We had seemingly
suicidal fish throwing themselves at my flies, with me missing most of
them. The two best fish I had caught had been a foul-hooked brookie,
and a rainbow with a severe death-wish who had launched himself at a
fly
I was dragging upstream. In a flash I knew I had the title for this
series of trip reports, and thus was born: The Accidental Angler.

Feeling mighty proud of myself (and no, I didn't try for a hero
shot, and that's not the sort of thing I want to preserve on film), I
gathered my stuff (dragging the fly behind me once more just in case),
and did some more exploring down the trail. I had minimal luck in
some
lovely places, including what I consider one of the prettiest spots in
that section of the river: http://uweb.txstate.edu/~cv01/littleriverpool.jpg

A little further down the trail I saw what looked to be a large
snake in the trail, and it turned out that someone had in fact killed
a
big watersnake and dragged it out onto the trail to terrorize anyone
who
happened by.

Shortly thereafter, the skies opened up, and seeing as I had left
my
poncho in the car (yeah, that's where I *always* leave it), I looked
for
a place to wait out the storm. (I didn't want to get my cigarettes
wet.) I found a nice rock overhang that almost created a cave, and
provided me with the space to stand upright and stay dry.

I'd been there no more than 2-3 minutes when a hiker approached
heading up the trail. He asked if he could join me under the shelter,
and rather than following my natural inclination, I told him,
"sure". :-)

We made small talk while we watched the rain, and it turned out he
was heading up towards the primitive campsite on Goshen Prong. He was
a
recent collge grad, and was doing a solo backpack trip before he
entered
the "real world". I warned him about the bear and snkae and asked him
where he came from. He was born in Wisconsin, grew up in Indiana, and
had lived in Nashville while in school. It turned out the kid was a
Vanderbilt graduate like myself, and when I was his age I had done a
similar thing after graduation, heading off on a backpacking trip on
the
Appalachian trail near Johnson City, TN.

When the rain let up, I headed back to camp, and he went on to
whatever his life holds for him. I wished him well, and he thanked me
for the conversation and the #10 woolley bugger I had given to him
when
he mentioned he had brought a collapsible rod, but planned to dig
worms
to fish with.

I figured the least I could do was keep him from turning into a
criminal at such a young age. ;-)


Chuck Vance