(Continued from previous page.)
The fishing this year, as in past years, was not exactly like a scene from A River Runs Through It. The Weenie Men still lacked any great proficiency at this trout catching business. But, in our defense, I must point out that fly-fishing in the Smokies is a little trickier than what you may have seen in the movies. In the movies, the fisherman lazily strides across open field to the wide, riffled stream. There, his presence masked by the splashing of the stream, he gracefully plays out yards of line from his fly rod in smooth, flowing arcs. When his fly flutters down to the surface of the water, a huge trout explodes from the water, aggressively attacking it. In the Smokies, it doesn't quite work that way. For starters, to get to a decent stretch of water, the Smokies fisherman may have to hike several miles, then literally crawl down steep cliffs, through dense undergrowth, to reach the stream. Once there, he must stealthily slide into the stream, for if the water is disturbed, the trout will take leave. Once in the stream, the Weenie Man must then contend with the powerful currents and rocks slicker than any material devised by man. Finally, once in position, comes the cast. All backyard practice is useless, for the streams in the Smokies resemble rhododendron tunnels, and these tunnels are hungry for flies. Rarely is there enough room to raise the fly rod to its full length, much less negotiate a cast like those in the movies. Each cast is a true act of ingenuity. And oh, what a penalty must be paid for botching a cast. The act of attaching a new fly to a tippet no thicker than a human hair, using 40-year-old eyes and fingers numbed by the cold stream, can be exceedingly difficult. Then, even if all is executed to perfection, the trout may rise to the fly, only to turn away at the last second, having decided that your offering does not agree with his palate.
Typical casting tunnel.
Several years previous, Rob had coined a phrase used often by Weenie Men experiencing such disappointment: "aquatic sons of bitches".
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