by Mike Watts
The mountains were dressed in their fall colors, showing bright shades of yellow, orange, brown, and red. Walking the trail down to the river, it was easy to see how vivid the woods looked with leaves in their splendor. Their beauty made me want to pinch myself and wonder why I had taken a few years off from fly fishing here. It felt like I was home again. This feeling of belonging was overwhelming.
The path…
The Chattooga River is considered by many to be one of the best trout streams in northern South Carolina. It’s a spectacular river. The “Wild and Scenic” designation is accurate if you’ve ever spent any time around it. From hiking to trout fishing to white-water rafting, the river offers everyone a chance to experience nature.
Jim Mize, Larry Chesney, Rob Lyghtel, Leland Martin, and I wanted to see if we could find a few fish willing to bite a fly. With all of us combined, there should be enough fishing knowledge to crack the code to unlock today’s secret to fooling these wary trout. Anytime you connect fishing and good friends, it’s a great day.
The lack of rain in September and early October caused low water levels and a gin clear river. With nighttime temperatures falling into the forties, it was cool enough to make the fish active again, or so we hoped. Fly fishermen are always optimists.
The chilly air made the mile-and-a-half downhill walk refreshing. It’s been six months since I could see my breath in the early morning. Every hundred yards or so was a switchback, which presented another kaleidoscope of fall colors. Pictures are free to take, so I snapped quite a few. Each turn looked prettier than before.
This had been my winter and early spring route to the river for over thirty years, and the fall’s beauty still moves me. Not every tree had changed color yet, but there was enough color to give us a hint of what’s to come in the next few weeks. What had I been missing?
I knew the way to the river and didn’t worry about keeping up with everyone. Speaking from experience, it’s better to let someone else be the spiderweb buster. Falling behind gave me time to reflect on all the great experiences this river has given me, not to mention the mental pictures of my journey today.
Reflecting on different fishing trips, I pieced together a year’s worth of trips at various locations on the river. These trips included starting the new year by fishing here on January 1st, only to arrive and find a sparse Blue Winged Olive hatch with surface-feeding fish. What an excellent way to kick off the new year.
I still vividly remember one spring afternoon in late March when a trout ferociously attacked my large Adams Parachute fly imitation. The next month, I watched the sun set behind the mountain, casting long shadows across the river, and fished a small caddis pattern until it was dark. Last summer, we wet-waded and successfully caught and released several Bartram’s Bass with size-10 yellow popping bugs. There were many tough days in between, but who wants to remember those? The Chattooga truly is a river for all seasons. Adapting to each season brings many rewards, not only in catching fish but also in enjoying the setting itself.
Finally arriving on a ridge overlooking the river, I stood in awe of these unspoiled surroundings. Today felt like a renewal, a moment to reconnect with this pristine wilderness and wonder why I hadn’t been back here in a few years. I had no good answer. Whoever came up with the phrase, “trout live in beautiful places,” had clearly visited the Chattooga River in the fall.
Standing there and looking downriver, I saw Jim knee-deep in a patchwork of colors, casting upstream into the dark, shadowy depths as he searched for a strike. The water’s surface reflected the seasonal hues, almost like a prism bending light, mirrored in the slow-moving runs of the river.
Jim Mize casting to a hungry fish.
Walking further along the path, I noticed Larry wrangling a nice fish with his two-weight fly rod bent in half. Rob was standing beside him, coaching him to keep the rod up and apply subtle pressure as the fish fought fiercely.
Focusing on the task, the trout was soon in the net! Rob had shared another one of his secret flies with Larry. Together, they moved downstream to fish a deep hole where the current pushed against a large rock before quickly turning right, cascading off a ledge. Standing in this pocket before the drop-off, they caught several lively trout, which were landed and released.
Larry and Rob with a fish on!
Jim, Leland, and I moved upstream from where we started. My dad used to tell me, as an anxious boy constantly firing questions at him, that only a fool leaves fish to find more fish. Today, I was that fool and was more interested in retracing the footsteps of the past than catching fish.
The low water level made it easy to navigate different sections of the river and rediscover spots where I used to fish regularly. Curiosity kept wanting me to investigate around every bend of the river. Walking upstream, I stopped and flipped a nymph into several pockets, runs, and pool tail-outs, missed a couple of fish with the long-line release method, and accidentally caught a few.
Several hundred yards upriver, I left Jim and Leland to fish a promising-looking “fishy” riffle where the river had a long, straight stretch of at least four hundred yards. While fishing above them, I waded over to the bank and found the perfect log to sit on and take in the surroundings.
I couldn’t see beyond the next bend from here but remembered a spot upstream where a feeder creek joined the main branch. Almost heading there, I changed my mind because it felt impolite to leave my buddies standing in the river alone catching fish— not to mention hearing their intense verbal abuse later. Even though flashes of a bent flyrod with explosive rainbows kept tempting me to keep exploring, I stayed within visual range and managed to catch one or two rainbows myself.
Jim Mize and Leland Martin fishing a small run off the main channel.
By late afternoon, we all gathered downriver at a large pool to compare notes. The water was so clear that it appeared shallower than it actually was. We all knew better than to try crossing. The other side of the river, with its dark, deep green water, looked inviting, but it was too much trouble by this time of day to portage around and get into the correct position to fish it effectively.
Tired and hungry, we all headed back up the trail. The fishing made the trip memorable. But the camaraderie and friendships, combined with a beautiful setting, made the trip perfect.
Mike Watts is the publisher of riversandfeathers.com, a freelance writer, and the author of two books, “Riverbank Memories” and a children’s book, “Pond Fishing with Papa,” available on Amazon. His upcoming book, “Fly Fishing with Papa,” will be released soon!
To learn more about trout fishing in upstate South Carolina, click here.
Visit@lakehartwellcountry.com
