I had the pleasure of doing some Fall camping in the Smoky Mountains this past weekend, 4 days 3 nights at Elkmont Campground. The Little River runs through the campground and is teaming with wild rainbow, brown, and, in the upper reaches, brook trout. I was looking forward to spending a good amount of time on the river fly fishing. But this wasn’t just a fishing trip, I was camping with my wife, no pets, no kids, just the two of us, and it was a special trip. It was a homecoming of sorts.

This campground, this river, these mountains, hold a lot of magic for me. I grew up camping in this campground for my entire childhood, every summer until I was around 13 or so. At least once per year, my brother and I would join our late father on a week or two-long camping trip to Elkmont Campground. I took my first steps here according to my parents. I screamed “rushy wawa” and ran for the river. As I mentioned in the first post of this blog, there are so many amazing memories around these camping trips. My love of nature was born here. There were hikes, bear sightings, swimming in the river, classes with the park rangers on survival in the wild, and a million memories with my father. I remember him teaching me to build a fire, how to chop the wood into kindling, build the teepee around the wadded paper, and how to maintain a fire. I still use these methods, for the most part. I do cheat with the different combustible products available today (Tumbleweeds are amazing). 

I caught my first fish here in this river, a small six-inch rainbow trout, which my father happily fried up for me at the campsite. I was four years old and using a cane pole and kernel of corn. I still remember it vividly. I have since upgraded to fly fishing, but that was one of the purposes of returning this past weekend. I wanted to close a circle of sorts. I wanted to return to the river that bore my love of rainbow trout (still my favorite fish) and catch them on the fly.

I also wanted to introduce my wife, who has been witness to my love of nature and fallen in love herself, to the origin of it all, to where the magic started. We were only here for a long weekend, but it was late October, the leaves were ablaze with color, and the weather was supposed to be really nice for the first couple of days, then turn cold and rainy. 

We have been on many camping trips together, annual trips with two other families whom we adore. These are very special trips for us. We have also been on many other trips as well, but this was the furthest we have traveled, a twelve-hour drive from our home in Westchester County, New York. We came prepared for the dramatic shift in weather predicted, and Mother Nature did not disappoint. A high of 80+ degrees on Saturday and Sunday with the lows around 60, to a rainy low of 38 on Monday night. This is how the weekend would end.

One thing about Elkmont Campground is that the sites are generally on top of each other and offer very little privacy. We are used to much more private sites here in the Catskill and Adirondack mountains of New York, but these are state parks, not national parks. I imagine that makes a difference. Still, after much research, I booked what I thought was a fairly private site. I expected there to be much less privacy than we actually had, however. I was genuinely surprised at the size and secluded nature of the site in the end. Here’s a little tour of our campsite.

We spent most of Saturday hanging around the campsite, relaxing, and walking the campground. I wanted to show Michelle the site my father always booked, or did for several years. The site where he chased a bear into the woods after the campers across the way took their cooler into their tent overnight. A curious bear had “opened” their tent and sat down to have a late-night snack. My brother and I had chosen to sleep in our pup tent outside the camper that night and were awoken to the screams of those campers, and to my father running across the road toward the bear, banging two pots together to scare it off. I must have been nine years old at the time. I wanted to share all my memories of the campground. So many were flooding back.

The plan for Sunday was to hike and fish! Michelle would hike up the Little River trail, just a short walk above the campground, as I fished my way up the river. We would meet up after a couple miles and share the pictures we each took. I don’t think we made it a mile. Michelle got lost in the beauty of the forest, of the river. I found her a couple hours later sitting on a rock in the river, barefoot, reading a book. But she has an amazing eye for beauty. Many of the photos featured in this post were taken by her. But this one is mine, this is how I found her…

Before finding her upstream, however, I had a blast fishing. I got into several small little rainbows like the one below, the largest one being no more than probably four+ inches. All taking dry flies, October Caddis to be precise. Got a couple on a parachute BWO as well.

The river was running really low, around 40 cubic feet per second, as compared to its typical 112 CFS for this time of year, so stealth was the key as these can be some spooky trout. Hiding behind rocks was typical, not as easy as I would like to admit for my 51 year old body. I might need to do something about that. I was using my Sage, 7′ 10″ 00wt rod for this portion of the river. As you can see, I don’t have to cast far and was using a dry dropper rig with a small size 18 october caddis with a size 18-20 purple frenchie nymph. The “leaf hatch” was pretty intense and I did manage to catch quite a few of those as well…

After lunch I headed back out alone to explore the river around the campground with my 7 1/2 foot 3wt. I got into a good 6-7″ rainbow at a larger pool, but it released itself just before getting into my net. I hiked down through the campground to a pool toward the bottom and landed a tiny wild brown. It was getting dark by then and I needed to make steak for dinner.

Monday was a little cooler with a high of 68 and a little rain predicted. We headed out with a similar plan as Sunday, I fish while Michelle read by the river. This time, however, we headed downstream to where the river got little bit larger, but just a little. The wind had picked up and the leaf hatch was in full effect, making fishing more challenging. Only got into two little guys that day, but still enjoyed being on the river.

The rest of the trip consisted of trying to stay dry and warm. The rain started and we made burgers over the fire in the rain before calling it a night. It dropped to 38 degrees by the following morning. While we were prepared, it was still cold!

I am still lost in thought about the beauty of the Smoky Mountains. It was so special to be able to go back there and bring Michelle to witness the magic I felt when I was young and still feel today. I felt my father there with me too. It was always a special place for him as well, and my brother. We are very lucky to have those memories. They are cherished for sure. It’s also a good reminder to take care of what we have. It is precious. Be curious, explore. Be kind, to yourself, others, and the environment.

I’ll leave you with one more shot my wife took. The Little River, the rhododendron, the falling leaves, the sound and sights of a pristine natural environment. A moment of zen in this crazy world.