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How to describe pure beauty??? Part of the answer has to be… the Smoky Mountains in springtime. I arrived on Wednesday at about noon and the weather was glorious, bright sunshine, temperatures in the 60s, and a few little cotton balls in the sky… just perfect. The local TU chapter was already working on Trout Fest that was to kick off with a big fundraising dinner on Friday night, vendor tents and the big fly-tying/banquet tent were being raised, the parking signs were being unloaded… things were happening.

I checked into Dock's and unloaded all my gear, got on the cell phone and checked in with Michael Sinclair… Michael was a hour and a half out, so I checked in with Little River Outfitters and found folks there going nuts getting ready for Trout Fest. Byron, the owner and I had a great time chatting about the economy, how things were going at the shop, Trout Fest plans etc. until Michael and his bride "Shorty" showed up. They got their licenses and it was off to lunch!!! A quick lunch, drop the stuff at Dock's and we were off to the river.

Both Michael and Shorty had just finished taking the rod-building course at the Ozark Rodmakers' School under the tutelage of Harry Boyd and Bob Nunley and wanted to prove out those beautiful new creations. Byron had told me to run them over to the West Prong of the Little River as that was close, easy to wade, and the fish were "willing". We suited up and in short order both the Sinclair folks had caught their fish and their rods were appropriately "blessed". We then toured around, checked out some of the other waters, and called it a night with an early supper.

Thursday was to be a free day for us to fish, enjoy friends, and build up an appetite for the "brat" cookout. Pete, a friend of the Sinclair's is an inhalation therapist at one of the local hospitals. He had put in for vacation months back, but with all the flu, etc. running around, the only day he had free was Thursday. We all had breakfast together at the Sinclair cabin overlooking the river and then we were off to fish the area above Tremont on the Middle Prong of the Little River. Shorty managed to take a bath in the process of fishing and so we took her back to the cabin, had lunch and then hit Metcalf Bottoms for some fishing and the "brat" cookout.

Rich Margiotta (Eastprong) lives in Knoxville and had graciously offered to feed all the early arrivals with Brats and all the fixings. So there we were… about 8 of us on the banks of the Little River eating Brats/Potato Salad/Slaw etc., drinking beer, and talking bamboo… does it get any better than this??? After the food we went after the fish, but despite the fact that there were bugs coming off all over the place our finny little friends didn't want to cooperate… and that seemed to be the situation most of the weekend.

Friday morning was another glorious day… we started at Little River Outfitters at about 0900 and had a great time talking cane, comparing rods, answering questions, etc. In the midst of the festivities we had a star of the fly fishing world join us for about a half hour… the great Joe Humphries!!! Joe was in town to speak at the TU banquet that evening along with Left Krey and Bob Clouser. After talking with us he was off to go fishing with Walter Babbs and catch a few Brookies. We adjourned for lunch and fishing.

Saturday was a repeat of Friday, except we had a few different players and Dave Male was there to regale us with tales of the "Good Old Days" and to work miracles with his "acme ferrule tightener". We then had a pizza for lunch and went off to investigate the vendors and Trout Fest, all the neat cars at the Studebaker Gathering at the Tally Ho Inn (you older guys explain it to the newbies), and the fish.

Sunday night it rained like Hell… I awoke to the river being up almost a foot and running the color of café au lait. So I loaded my truck, took the extras over to the Sinclair cabin since they were staying a few extra days… and went home in the rain.

Two disappointments…. 1) The attendance (quantity not quality) and 2) the fishing. Both, I find, we can do something about. 1. Attendance - We were a bit shy on folks this year for various reasons… the economy/conflicts/etc./etc. Interestingly enough, the Trout Fest did NOT seem to bring hoards of folks into town. I was frankly amazed. The Tally Ho Inn was totally booked by the Studebaker crew, the real fisher folks and we had Dock's, and the celebrities had the Highland Manor Inn… other than that there was room. My favorite campground (Ye Olde Mill) only had 7-8 slots occupied; Narcodog reported that Elkmont was largely free. Chartist had no problem getting a room at the Econolodge and there seemed to be plenty of rooms available in town. The only problem we ever had getting food was Friday morning when a big group of bikers descended on our favorite little local café. The weather was absolutely glorious, we'd get a little shower each night, but the only real rain was Saturday night. Trout Fest was a nice adjunct to the Bash… a number of nice vendors including 2 bamboo rod makers… one local and a gentleman out of Indianapolis with about 20+ rods… nice prices, etc.

2. The Fishing - The word I get is that had we fished the right places we'd have done well. Walter Babbs took Joe H. up Brookie fishing, and the word I get is that they took 1 or 2 out of every little pool they worked. A couple other folks that I talked to caught fish… but they were up higher than we fished. We just have to work the logistics of being bit more adventuresome. Some like Shorty have a problem wading… and we can accommodate that… I think. The others of us just have to be willing to go off on our own, or with one other person since most of the upper waters are smaller. The other fisher folks at Dock's that fished low… didn't catch fish… just like us. They saw plenty of bugs… like us. But no fish, regardless of what they threw at them. I personally witnessed a number of occasions when nice, big, juicy May flies landed on the river and floated off downstream with nary a rise to them.

The locals will tell you that mid-May is the time to be there… we were, the fish weren't. What more can I say??