By: Lou Zambello
I checked my rearview mirror to make sure my teardrop trailer was behaving itself as I navigated the twists and turns of the Blue Ridge Parkway. It was early March and my wife, Lindsey, and I were driving from Florida to Maine and camping in the serpentine southern Appalachian Mountains on the way. We spent three days hiking and fishing because down south it was early spring, whilst in Maine it was still late winter.
Fly-fishing in the Carolina and Georgia mountains is what some enthusiasts call “blue line” fishing. You hike along tiny rhododendron-lined headwater streams that are nameless blue lines on a mountain map but can hold secrets to discover like a cascading waterfall. Every so often, you happen across a stretch of water large enough to hold small trout; usually rainbows, but occasionally brookies or browns.
We are basically day-hiking with a little fly-fishing thrown in for good measure. Throughout the day, we recalculate how much time we can fish and still get back to the car before we get tired, cold, or run out of daylight. On a typical day we can hike six miles if we follow well-trodden trails and might land half a dozen fish between us. Or get skunked.
I find the most relaxing way to hike and fish is to keep it simple: Dress for hiking, fill a daypack with snacks and water, add my travel rod, a reel, a few tippet spools, and a small tin with a dozen flies. Adams, Royal Wulffs, Pheasant Tails, and a few small streamers such as a Woods Special or baby brook trout is all you need.
Where we stumble down verdant banks to fish, the pools are often overgrown with overhanging rhododendron, and we perch on slippery rocks trying not to fall in. Casting room is limited and often we are flicking short roll casts or just dappling our flies on the water.
On most detours off-trail, we don’t hook anything, but every so often, we find a stretch of small pools with hand-sized (or smaller) wild trout; all as bright as a new penny. Any trout we find aren’t shy and they quickly strike anything that hits the water. The entire endeavor is a bit like a treasure hunt.
My packable rod is perfect for this kind of adventure. It stows in my day pack until I need it, but when assembled, its nine-foot length allows me to extend beyond the shoreside growth to reach the water. When the day is done, I can quickly disassemble and put it away, so we can boogie the miles back to the car without snapping the rod tip on a tree trunk.
If you enjoy hiking and fly-fishing, try bluelining. It’s great exercise and more fun than going to a gym.