Got to take the wife to the Brevard area this weekend. We got into a great rental with access to some private trout water nearby. I promised the bride a day of kayaking on Lake Jocassee, so we did that first, opting to go on Friday morning early to beat the crowds. This was the first time I'd been on Jocassee since the early 80's, maybe the late 70's, and it was magnificent. We made it bit past the nearest waterfall, logging a bit over 7 miles on the water according to my app. We .... forgot ... to use sunscreen. And paid the price all weekend.

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The next morning, I slipped down to the river. I tossed a few pheasant tails... nothing. Some terrestrials, especially grasshoppers, thinking this would be the best pattern with the brush and grass along the edge. Nothing except the harassment of warpaint shiners. I was seeing a lot of fish. Big (by my standards) trout. The water was low and clear, making them skittish. I spooked a lot by over-casting and they'd bolt when the line or leader hit the water. I noted they were holding in the flats off the tail end of pools...

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After a while I said, to hell with it, and went with a parachute... caddis? I forget. But "caddis" would end up being key over the next day and a half. A few casts into the back of a nice pool, and a vicious rise resulted in a short, fat brown. The first trout I'd caught on a fly in a decade or more. It was fun, though, and kindled my interest. Back in the river he went...

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I had another HARD strike in the last pool I fished. It looked like a bass blowing up on a Devil's Horse. I missed the set, however, and there was no response to the next several casts. I headed back to sport the bride off to a day of floating the French Broad and other fun.

That evening, I was back with a plan. I waited until the last hour of light. I had lost the one parachute caddis (?) I had, but I had picked up a couple of Goddard caddis flies at a local fly shop. Size 14, dressed to kill. I started working my way up the river slowly, concentrating on the tail ends of pools and the the slow water in the bends. The shiners continued to be a pest. I actually caught a couple. Midway through the trip I started easing up on a run where I had spooked several nice trout the day before. I sized up my plan, remembering where the trout had been laid up on feeding stations. The dusk was deepening, and I saw a single fish rise in the run. A delicate slurp of something unseen. Beyond the run, I saw a beaver slipping along, warily moving steadily away from me. I dipped the fly in some floatant to make it sit high (more so I could see it) and started my cast. The first cast dropped the fly a tad short of where I wanted it. I stripped off a bit of line and rolled the next one where it would drift to the "spot".

It made it about a foot. Then it was smacked like a bream hitting a hand tossed cricket. I set the hook and felt weight, then the stream erupted. The beaver slapped the river with his tail in alarm and the fish headed straight past me. The fish ran down current and it turned into a balancing act of gaining ground in the current and trying to save the 7X tippet. A couple of minutes later and I clumsily brought it to net. I quickly drew the tape measure and got a 19" measurement. Personal best rainbow! I quickly moved to reviving it after a picture. It took a while... but the fish gained strength after a long bit and moved off. I was stoked. And out of light. I finished the evening and moved back to the cabin. I planned to be on the water at first light today before heading home...

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This morning, I got a bit later start than I intended. The light was growing as I walked down the well-tended trail to the start point. A beautiful mink darted into the path and we exchanged stares before it fled into the thick cover. I heard it splash into the river. Good sign? I eased into the cool water and started a slow probing of the stream edges on the outside of the bends. On the advise of a local guide, I was using a dry fly pattern called a "chubby", an odd looking terrestrial. Again, on the theory of the trout feeding on bugs falling from the brush along the river, I was thinking on every cast... "THAT'S the spot... here it comes..."... for the longest time, nothing.

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After a bit, I was thinking "why am I NOT fishing the Goddard caddis again?". So I tied one on. I approached the same pool where I caught the rainbow the evening before. Again, I probed the tail of the pool. Nothing. I hadn't even spooked a fish that I could see. Odd. Shuffle up a few steps. Extend the cast. Repeat. After a bit, I was casting well up into the sluggish water of the pool. I dropped a long cast with a perfect lay about a foot off the deep bank. And it was instantly inhaled. Setting the hook, I felt that weight again. The fish fought deep in the pool, and I was determined to NOT over-fight the fish and make it hard to release. I turned it to me, gave it some direction, and led it straight into the net.

This one I didn't measure. I didn't want to risk a failed revive due to the warm summer water. I'd guess it was a new personal best by about an inch. Maybe. The pics were quick and it was released. It swam off with no problem... success.

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It was well light by now. I finished out the morning quickly so I could help the bride pack. I had no other rises other than the pesky warpaints, and then lost the fly on an unreachable branch. By then I was at an exit trail and headed home. In less than 24 hours I'd broken my trout personal best (fly or otherwise) twice. It was a great weekend. And I'll be back.