Chattooga River Trout
Published in South Carolina Magazine, May/June 2005
Story and photos © Richard A. Bernabe
To the uninitiated, the notion of catching a trout on a fly seems implausible. The leap of faith needed to accept that any creature – cold blooded or otherwise – could confuse a tiny configuration of feather, fur, and hook with food is enormous. A competent angler knows the importance of faith in determining success or failure. If you don’t expect your offering will fool a fish, then surely it won’t. But with fishing, as with many things in life, the only thing you eventually learn to expect is the unexpected.
So as I stood
bare-legged in the frigid waters of the Chattooga River one spring morning
with fly rod and a dozen newly-purchased dry flies, I dismissed my chances
at success – as well as my faltering sanity. Yet I loved the aesthetics –
the cool, crystalline water; the scent of blooming mountain laurel; the
intricacy of the tiny hand-tied flies that I didn’t quite understand; the
graceful arc of the cast. The whole idea of fly fishing appealed
to me greatly, yet
I doubted I could ever catch a trout. As each of my awkward casts sent the
tiny dry fly into the swift current, I feigned interest in its journey as it
bounced across the river’s surface – around exposed rocks, over bulging
hydraulics, and along current seams. I also imagined how absurd it must
have appeared to any creature lurking in the water below. In mid thought,
an angular-shaped object emerged from under the surface and the fly
disappeared. Instinctively, I lifted the rod tip and I felt weight and the
erratic pulse of a fish. Moments later, I lifted the writhing trout from
the net and its cold eyes met mine. I am not sure which of us looked more
surprised.
The fact that my first fly fishing success came on a piece of water like the Chattooga River made it all that more special. One of the last remaining free-flowing rivers in the southern United States, the Chattooga begins its journey in the high country of North Carolina before becoming a 40-mile natural border between South Carolina and Georgia. Downstream of the Highway 28 bridge, the river is best known for whitewater rafting and paddling sports. Above that bridge, however, it is considered one of the top 100 trout streams in the United States, according to Trout Unlimited. The river is blessed with several characteristics that contribute to its blue-ribbon status: a canopy of giant oak and hemlock trees which provides natural shade and keeps water temperatures low; a downstream gradient with waterfalls and cascades that boosts the dissolved oxygen levels in the water; and a Federal “Wild and Scenic River” designation that serves as a buffer, protecting the river from human development.
The range of trout
water stretches from the Ellicott Rock Wilderness Area at the North Carolina
state line downstream to the Highway 28 bridge in Oconee County. Rainbow
and brown trout, the two species targeted by fly anglers, are stocked by the
South Carolina Department of Natural Resources (SCDNR) in addition to a wild
population of brown trout. The SCDNR has also instituted a “delayed
harvest” program two years ago for the two miles of river upstream of the
Highway 28 bridge. From November through May, only single-hook lures or
flies may be used and all fish must be returned to the water unharmed. After May, all angling methods may be
used and fish may then be harvested
from the river. This new program brings anglers from all over the Southeast
to the banks of the Chattooga.
There is easy access to the river at both Highway 28 and Burrells Ford Road, where there is also a campground. The Chattooga River Trail and Foothills Trail closely follow the river throughout the entire section of trout water, giving the adventurous angler many miles of solitude. Despite this relatively easy access, a day on the Chattooga is truly a wilderness experience. There are no facilities along the river and the terrain can be tough and unforgiving. It s always a good idea to travel with someone, but if going alone, plan on letting someone know your destination.
Since that spring morning several years ago, I have caught and released many trout on the Chattooga River. And although I now expect success more often than not, I am still humbled by how little I really do know. Success, however, is merely a tiny glimpse into a mysterious underwater world that will never completely be understood. These days, I return all of the fish I catch back to the river, keeping only for myself a clue that might be the answer to the puzzle the next time I return. A river like the Chattooga, you see, never gives up its secrets easily. But you can steal one from time to time.
