Catching Up and Catching Fish at Deep Creek

A Man, A Can and A Plan

It was April 2023 and I was deep into my training for the 2023 Cateran Yomp. The Yomp is another term for “hike” and used in the UK. This particular training for the Yomp was to take place along the NC and TN border, specifically from the Max Patch Trailhead to Hot Springs, NC – a 20+ mile hike on the Appalachian Trail. The hike was on a Tuesday so the Saturday before, I headed west from Virginia Beach to the Great Smoky Mountain National Park to meet up with an old buddy, Chris, to camp and try our luck on some trout streams in the GSMNP.

I scoured through Jim Casada’s book on fishing the GSMNP and decided upon Deep Creek near Bryson City. I reserved on the Recreation.gov website and relayed my plans to Chris, who was to meet me Saturday afternoon. Chris and I had attended elementary school, junior high, senior high and 3 of 4 years of college together and even played on a few sports teams together. Never had I ever fished or camped with him, nor had we spoken much in the previous 20 years after college, but he reached out and mentioned he lived near GSMNP and to give him a holler if I was ever nearby. This weekend was the perfect opportunity to reconnect with an old friend and enjoy a cold one for old time’s sake.

I was glad Chris wanted to meet up for a variety of reasons. One of them being that he had a popup camper that he was bringing which meant I didn’t have to sleep another night horizontally in my front seat or pitch a tent on the ground, something I wasn’t new to by any means, but still not my ideal course of action. Chris was also a Texan at heart, which meant that he would appreciate a good meal and noteworthy conversation – something that social media and cell phones have done their best to take away (at least the conversation part of it).

Chris showed up shortly after I did, and we quickly set up the camper after cracking open a tasty local Houston favorite beer from the Karbach Brewing Company and attempting to catch up on the last 20 years of life. Who was still living in Pasadena? Who married whom? What career path did so and so take? Had we ever fished here before? When did we get into flyfishing? The sun was going down and we had plenty of time to chat over dinner, so we finished the beer, put on the waders and headed upstream to look for fish.

Deep Creek ran right along the campground, and we could’ve just walked 100 yards and wet some flies. But…that would be too easy and after all, everyone probably fishes along the campground, right? Right? We headed a few miles upstream where the Rhododendron got thick. That’s where we wanted to fish. The bloody Rhododendron where no sane angler would punish themselves by trying to push through it. That’s WhereTheFishAre, right? Well, we punished ourselves through 50 or so yards of thick bushes until we found the stream and began our quest to trick wild Rainbow and Brown Trout into eating our flies. Luckily, the punishment paid off and Chris and I both landed a few trout, making the journey worth it. We only fished for an hour because we spent too much time hiking and pushing through heavy foliage. I’ll take the blame for that one, but Chris didn’t seem to mind. He and I were just happy to be out in the land of free and of the wild trout at the GSMNP.

It was dark by the time we made it back to camp. We missed a small trail since we didn’t bring our flashlights and ended up hiking an extra half mile or so to circle back to camp. As if the Rhododendron wasn’t enough…

With the waders off and hanging to dry on the truck rack, Chris was the Man with a Can and a Plan. Beer, sausages and beans were on the menu, and we were “walking in high cotton”. It’s amazing what memories return alongside the smells of food, especially simple comfort food we had enjoyed so many times before. Conversation picked up where it left off and the joy ensued as two men told stories of days of old after a great day of fishing over a warm meal and cold beverages. That’s livin’ right there and it was only day one.

Day two began early with a cup of Dunkin’ coffee and blueberry muffins picked up from the grocery store bakery along the way. I brought the French press and coffee grinds while Chris supplied to kettle, heat and water. We sat at the camper table and pondered where to fish. Chris began mentioning a book he had been reading about fishing in the GSMNP, which sounded extremely familiar to one I had read. He pulled the book out of the truck and we quickly realized we had been reading the same book! As our old coaches used to say – We were students of the game. At the table, we decided our game plan was to hike to and fish Indian Creek, a tributary of Deep Creek and then fish our way back along Deep Creek, in the areas with less Rhododendron, of course.

Indian Creek emptied into Deep Creek around a mile from the campground. We would fish our way upstream on Indian Creek, wherever we could find some open spots we could cast without getting caught in the Rhododendron. The book said there was a few spots great for catching some wild Rainbows along Indian Creek so we headed out, ready for some catching.

As we entered the Deep Creek Trailhead, we noticed some signs recently placed on the trail that mentioned a man from Tampa who had been hiking Deep Creek Trail and went missing a few days prior. To this day, he still hasn’t been found, unfortunately. As we were hiking the trail, we had to step aside many times as the search crews that consisted of over 120 people from nearly 30 different agencies motored by in their search vehicles to look for the missing hiker. After seeing that, we reduced our contact with the thick Rhododendron, a bush that isn’t very forgiving to an ankle or knee. I still had a 20-mile training hike to do in a few days, too, so it was best we took it easier than the day prior.

Just before the Indian Creek Trail, we saw a fishy pool and decided to drift some flies in the Deep Creek. Chris found a spot, as did I, and we gave our luck a go. Chris put down his pack for a few min and upon his return, he found a snake using it as a pillow. When I began flyfishing, I became more comfortable with flying bugs, since that’s what flyfishing is all about – the bugs. I’m not sure I’ll ever get comfortable with snakes…

After Chris managed to reclaim his pack from the snake, we headed upstream along Indian Creek. The water flow was good, and it looked fishy but the Rhododendron lined nearly every foot for the 2 miles we hiked upstream along the Indian Creek. We managed to find a few small, cleared spots, but they were few and far between. I managed to nymph a Rainbow Trout out of a very tight pool, but Chris was left empty handed despite getting a few hits a from some willing fish along the way. About every quarter mile we kept saying we would just go another hundred yards in case the foliage cleared up and allowed us some easier casting, but it never really amounted to what we were hoping for. After 2 miles, we cut our losses and turned around and headed back to Deep Creek.

Back at Deep Creek, we found some excellent runs and pools to drift nymphs and dries to loitering fish. We both netted some solid wild Brown Trout along the mile of creek between Indian Creek and the campground. As the sun went down, the bugs began hatching and the fish followed the hatch. We both tied on a few different mayfly patterns until we found one to get the fish to budge. The action got hot for about 30 min until it became too dark to see the fly drift, which meant our ears would tell us if the fish took the fly or not.

An evening hatch gives you that “ah-Ha” moment. You find yourself casting dry flies to surfacing fish in the exact same spots you concluded there wasn’t any fish just hours ago. Did they suddenly move and show up? No. They were there the whole time. They just didn’t like our offering.

The hike back was only about half a mile and despite being too dark to see, we didn’t miss the hidden trail again this time around. Our stomachs had enough of the Cliff bars and after hanging the waders to dry, we headed out into town for some local table fare. Unfortunately, it was Sunday night and the summer season had not begun so we were left with Burger King and McDonalds as our choices. Burger King got the nod, and it was bad enough that I shall not even mention it any further. We had food to cook at the campsite, but sometimes a local burger is what’s needed to cap off the end of a great day of hiking and fishing. Well, we got a burger, just not a good one.

The next morning came early, but we still found some time to fish the Tuckasegee River, which was a couple of miles south of the campground that ran through Bryson City. We had a couple of hours to give it a whirl and we both chose to start the day off using streamers to see if we could get some trout to chase. Streamer fishing is a very active form of fishing compared to dry flies and nymphs, which imitate the bugs of the river. Streamers imitate the small fish or minnows of the rivers and streams and will often land bigger fish. These bigger fish can get quite aggressive, especially when the waters warm up and they are hungry. The aggressiveness can snap a lighter tippet or leader so it’s best to increase the strength of your leader and tippet to at least a 3X to avoid losing the fish, especially if you find yourself in some faster water with a lot of line out.

I cast some streamers upstream for about the first hour with no luck, so I switched to indicator fishing with a double nymph setup. This brought me some luck with a couple of trout to pick up the day’s motivation. Time was getting short, so I switched back to a heavier streamer setup and cast and stripped downstream as I made my way back to the truck. One willing participant ended my day on a high note to cap off a spectacular 40-hour period that ended a great weekend. I couldn’t remember if the Tuckasegee was as kind to Chris as it was to me, but it didn’t matter. I was able to catch up with an old friend and enjoy a couple of days of remarkable flyfishing, food and conversation in the Great Smoky Mountain National Park. Those are the moments in life you don’t forget.