Oct 11 2008 2:41 pm
Deep Creek valley is a long winding tube of cool, shadowy air. The steep mountain sides block the sun until only the very middle part of the day. Even then, many bends and corners of the creek are still dark. Rhododendrons and dying hemlock branches lay tenuously suspended over deep, clear, glassy pools where large, wild trout hold themselves in the current at the downstream end waiting for food to drift their way. The largest fish are easily spooked out of their lies by the fly line passing even once over their heads. These deep, glassy pools are difficult places to catch wild trout.
A few miles up Deep Creek, near campsite #60, the low river is a shallow jumble of boulders and ledges and runs and riffles, pocket water strewn over a sandy bottom on a long straight stretch of river bathed in direct sun for a few hours finally each day. I fish my way up this stretch dropping the small parachute Adams into every pocket and seam within my reach once or twice, squeezing out a drift of a few feet each time until the fly starts to drag and is pulled under the water. I pick up a few small juvenile fish. I finally reach the top of the long run where the water ran down a steep, narrow slot into a small pool. I cast my fly into the small pool from forty feet away and a shiny, spotted, pale yellow fish with a red stripe came up and put it in its mouth with a cocksure pop. It was a fine wild fish, an adult that actually put a bend in my rod. I caught five more fine fish from that pool on the next five casts.