It’s human nature to complicate even the simplest of activities – to the point that I’ve got a closet full of fly rods, several trunks of fly tying materials, and a gordian assemblage of other stuff.
Eventually you realize collecting all the extra gear is helping the fly fishing industry a lot more than it is your fishing, and you stop, or even backpedal a little bit.
The last few years have seen a considerable winnowing of the gear I fish, and this year I created a considerably narrowed list of fly fishing gear to drag along to Tennessee.
And you wonder why I go there to fish?
Waders, boots, a couple 5wt fiberglass rods, two reels, camera, one box of flies, fly fishing odds and ends, and some hats, clothes, socks (plus the stuff you bring to function in a civilized society, like shoes and a laptop).
That’s a wholly manageable pile of gear – and a big decrease in pre-trip stresses — but naturally, I couldn’t leave well enough alone.
Backpacking for Fun and Gear
This year I’m taking a four-day backpacking trip into a remote section of the park, so in addition to my recently narrowed fly fishing catastrophe, I’m suddenly dragging along a tent, stove, sleeping bag, pad – all the backcountry goodies.
Where I had one oversize duffle bag, now I’ve got two, and given the Law of Complexity (doubling your gear squares your chances of forgetting something), I’m now 4x more likely to leave something important on my desk.
That’s no big deal when you’re fly fishing with friends and drive by a fly shop every day on the way to the river.
But when you’re miles out into the backcountry, “forgetting something†takes on a whole new level of meaning (as in you don’t eat).
Naturally, I’m confident I’ll be all right, which is to say I’m probably doomed – I just don’t know it yet.
A Frenzy of Flies
In an attempt to demonstrate my mastery over Tennessee’s trout, I’m trying to limit myself to a single fly box, and if I was fishing only in the park, that might be a wholly attainable goal.
Ian Rutter and Rich Margiotta both suggested only an idiot would show up without a box of Adams dries, but some of us are more stubborn than others, and I plan to give the Parachute Beetle Bug (red and yellow dubbed bodies) a workout.
There will also be a yellow caddis pattern (the yellow sallies are all over the upper reaches of the river), and a trimmer #16 Sulphur pattern in case I hit the hatch.
At Rich’s suggestion I’ll bring along a few Sulphur spinners, and maybe even some “coffin flies†(essentially a Green Drake spinner) and yes, I’ll have some nymph patterns on hand in case conditions turn ugly.
In truth, the fish in most of the park aren’t highly selective, but there are always times when you’ll do better with one fly than another.
Those are the times when you look at the single fly box in your hand and pray that you’ve got something close – maybe the odd fly you stuck in and then forgot.
It doesn’t speak well to my skills as a fly fisher, but my fly selection is usually driven by fear as much as confidence, then tempered by a healthy dose of laziness.
In other words, I’ll never tie as many flies as I’m afraid I’ll need, but I’ll probably never need as many flies as I don’t tie. Or something like that.
More to Come
I’ll be writing more about Tennessee – I’ll even tell you why I go there to fish every spring instead of flying someplace more exotic. Until then, see you at the fly tying table, Tom Chandler.
[tags]fly fishing, tennessee, gsmnp, smoky mountains[/tags]
In a clear attempt to taunt the Underground – a known connoisseur of big brook trout – Rutter actually described catching a big Brookie in excruciating detail, and included a picture.
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