#Western North Carolina Fly Fishing Guide

[fatehbaz]

Often when I think of so-called North America, the landscape of the continent, the iconic lifeforms of this place, I think of lions, camels, giant sloths, and mammoths. I am careful to remember their presence. And their absence. Ghosts. At the scale of geological time, these megafauna creatures were living alongside humans in North America practically yesterday. For the majority of human history on the continent, these Pleistocene megafauna were right there alongside bison. And I think this fact, the presence of superlative megafauna, gets obscured in conversations about what exactly constitutes the “typical North American environment.”

Of course, for millennia, the North American landscape has been a deliberately crafted result of Indigenous cultivation, the vital presence also erased in similar conversations about “wild” North America. If you grew up or have lived near parts of the US with many federal-administered national forests and parks, designated “wilderness” areas, so-called “wild and scenic rivers,” populations of less than 5 people per square kilometer, etc: You’re probably familiar with how many enthusiastic subcultures develop, sometimes defined by a professed love of a mythical or romanticized “wild” which might manifest as many local groups of backpackers, fly-fishing guides, river rats and runners, university-employed biologists, mountain bikers, academics working with ecology, etc. Some groups might be engaged in de facto assertion of colonial/settler sense of “ownership” of this land and continued Indigenous erasure. Some might be mostly interested in signalling the optics of the “lifestyle brand” or “aesthetic.” Some might be genuinely invested “bioregional citizens” with love of the ecology and respect for original inhabitants. A hodge podge, an eclectic mix. In any case, if you’re familiar with these places, you might also be familiar with the celebration of charismatic animals or iconic megafauna species: grizzly bear, gray wolf, moose, elk, caribou, bison, etc. These animals will get mentioned all the time, everywhere, in casual coffee shop conversation and in formal policy. You’ll see local cities, nonprofits, agencies, and businesses employ images of these creatures featured in essays, pamphlets, naturalist courses, and marketing, often as part of an interest -- sometimes superficial, sometimes sincere -- in “conservation” or “ecological rehabilitation.” It will be said that “this land is incomplete” with the absence of the wolf and the grizzly. They will say that so-called North America’s landscape is at least partially defined by these keystone species. The landscape of North America must include these animals. “When you think of North America, you think of bison.” They are the emblems, the icons.

The lions that lived in North America, a now extinct subspecies, apparently belonged to the same genus of the still-living modern lion of Africa. (The American lion is so closely related that, until recent years, it was considered a subspecies of the modern African lion.) The sheer size of Megatherium or Eremotherium; 4 meters tall. I struggle to imagine early American people interacting with a sloth so large. But it happened. I’ve always been excited by how all of these animals lived with modern humans in North America only 10,000 years ago. Yesterday.

We’re talking about lions prowling the periphery of oak woodlands in the Great Plains. Mammoths on the Rocky Mountain Front. Camels in the Great Basin.

So little time has passed since the extinction of these animals, that an “average” depiction of the typical ecology of “modern” North America would have to feature these species. The pantheon of native megafauna of the western US and Mexico doesn’t just include grizzly bears, moose, and bison, but also includes sabre-toothed cats. Some iconic animals associated in popular consciousness with the “Old World” resided or originated in the Americas, including camels, horses, elephant-like creatures, and lions.

This also confounds and complicates the idea of what, precisely, are we trying to “return” to? Are we attempting to go back in history before nineteenth century imperial expansion into the American West, when grizzlies and bison were still relatively healthy, when passenger pigeons and Carolina parakeets were alive? Shouldn’t we be attempting to go back even further, before colonial settlement along the Atlantic coast, too? When US government land managers talk about “rewilding” North America, I first consider if this is a moot point without Indigenous autonomy, and I then wonder if “rewilding of historical North American environments” would necessarily have to involve mammoths and lions to be authentic.

Maybe a silly thought experiment, but still. Even if mammoths are truly “lost in deep time” and inaccessible to us, is there still value in trying to glimpse their ghosts, to read their past presence in our contemporary vision of the land? The trend of woodland conversion into grassland, the recent history of the Great Plains for example, was probably instigated by these Pleistocene megafauna. 

These “Ice Age creatures” made North America, often in tandem with Indigenous peoples.

“Bring the grizzly and the bison back!” When I overhear a local advertisement, or attend an ecology lecture, or see marketing material for a conservation policy, and when these proclamations celebrate the desired return of bears or wolves, I always inevitably imagine the simultaneous return of Pleistocene megafauna. They were here for most of the recent geological past. They are just as much a part of the historical landscape of the continent.

[flyfishingthesmokies]

Tuckasegee River Fly Fishing Report May

Tuckasegee River Fly Fishing Report May

Tuckasegee River Fly Fishing Report May

The Tuckasegee River is fishing at its absolute peak for the year. This past week both stretches of the Tuckasegee were given the final stocking of the Delayed Harvest season. Big Rainbow, Brown, and Brook trout are prowling the waters and they are hungry! Water temps are perfect and the hatches are abundant. You couldn’t buy a better time to be on the…

[robertscastellini]

Notable Fishing Destinations in the US

Today, fishing remains one of the most popular forms of outdoor recreation in the country. It serves as a viable alternative to more intense sports and recreational activities like hiking, cycling, skiing, and swimming. The US is home to some of the best fishing destinations in the world. Kona in Hawaii is one of the most notable fishing locations in the States. Due to the calmness of the islands' lakes, they provide an outstanding atmosphere for angling. The island also has one of the best deep-sea fishing environments in the country. Tuna, sharks, and Ono constitute the bulk of those caught by anglers fishing offshore. Similarly, the Florida Keys, located on the southern shores of Florida, is often considered the fishing capital of the world and a fishing paradise by most anglers. This archipelago is about 125 miles long. The western end of the Florida Keys is well known for its saltwater and deep-sea fishing, with some areas reaching a depth of about 2,000 feet. Mackerel, sailfish, barracuda, white marlin, and kingfish constitute most of the catch in the Florida keys. The Montauk beach resort is a fishing haven for tourists from across the globe. Located on New York's Long Island, it experiences an influx of tourists each year. Visitors of Montauk beach can participate in both offshore and inshore fishing. While fishing inshore, one is likely to catch green bonito, flounder, porgy, mackerel, and blackfish. Offshore, one will encounter blue marlin, giant tuna, sharks, and dolphins. Another fishing destination worthy of note is Lake Mead in Nevada. Lake Mead is a reservoir with one of the largest water capacities in the United States. It is about 465 feet deep and its surface encompasses about 150,000 acres. The lake is home to some of the largest fish in the country, particularly the striped bass. Other notable catches include crappie, catfish, bluegill, and green sunfish. While the lake is open to fishing all year round, the fishing season at Lake Mead peaks from July to December. Similarly, the Outer Banks in North Carolina is a fishing destination that is home to various fishing activities such as pier fishing and inshore charter fishing. However, most visitors to the Outer Banks prefer to fish from large boats offshore. These boats are usually comfortable, providing passengers with a bathroom, necessary fishing supplies, and snacks. The Outer Banks is also home to one of the best surf-fishing environments in the state. The Bighorn River in Montana is a significant fly fishing hub. However, it's important to note that a large portion of the river is restricted from public access. This is primarily because the river flows through tribal lands and private property. The significant catches in the Bighorn River are the prized rainbow and brown trout. This river also has a resort that avails visitors the opportunity of fishing guides and private access to the river. Finally, the Kobuk River, located in Alaska, is a fishing destination that provides an unusual fishing experience to accomplished anglers. The river is about two hundred miles long and is home to rare fish like the arctic char, arctic grayling, northern pike, and shellfish. These extraordinary shellfish can be up to a yard long and are found north of the Arctic Circle.

[usfwspacific]

The Birds and the Trees: A Grower’s Guide to a Lively Spring Yard

By David Leal: David Leal is a guest blogger and wildlife biologist for the U.S. Fish and wildlife Service. He is an avid bird watcher and passionate home gardener in Portland, Oregon currently landscaping his new yard with native vegetation. Opinions expressed in guest blogs are solely those of the blogger. 

Wlson’s warbler, Peter Pearsall/USFWS

In the coming months, those colorful and amazing migratory song birds we love so much will be making their way back into the Pacific Northwest. Nothing is quite as amazing as a brilliant little 7 gram bird (slightly heavier than a nickel), such as a Wilson’s warbler, that has flown roughly 2,000 to 3,000 miles to return to sing and breed in it’s “patch” of forest in places like Forest Park or Mount Tabor. 

In nice weather years, they seem to magically appear like clockwork, but in years where they meet the resistance of spring storms during migration they will often “fall out” in large numbers on the buttes and hills scattered around the Willamette Valley. Our western “fall outs” are relatively small compared to the famous events along the gulf coast but they can still be impressive. Once they’ve landed they need to refuel their tiny bodies to recover and complete the rest of their journey. These waves of migrant warblers, vireos, tanagers and flycatchers often fan out across the Portland area, voraciously eating any small insect they can find.  

At the same time, our resident song birds are already beginning to nest. Songbirds such as chickadees, sparrows, and wrens have been singing for a while in our neighborhoods and will soon be feeding their chicks. In North America, it’s estimated that roughly 96% of land birds raise their young partially or entirely on insects, and a pair of chickadees may need upwards of 6,000 caterpillars to raise a brood. The key to pulling off this amazing process is…native vegetation.

Black-capped chickadee with insect, George Gentry/USFWS

A quick search online of the importance of native vegetation to birds will show that people are concerned about this issue all over the world. With increasing urbanization and conversion of native habitat to non-native ornamental vegetation, most studies have shown, native vegetation best supports native birds wherever you are.  

One such study in Pennsylvania found that native vegetation within an urban environment had significantly more caterpillars and caterpillar species which in turn supported significantly more bird abundance, diversity, biomass and breeding pairs (Burghardt et al. 2008). An example of how this happens, the popular ornamental Ginko tree from Asia hosts approximately 1% of the caterpillar species hosted by native eastern oaks. Ginkos are indeed a beautiful tree but to our native birds they’re probably the equivalent of an empty picnic table with a shade.  

Another study of nesting urban Carolina chickadees found that they spent the vast majority of their foraging in native trees and selected for yards with greater abundance of native vegetation to nest (Narango et al. 2017). They essentially flew past non-native trees nearer their nest to forage in native trees.  

Bushtit, Peter Pearsall/USFWS

I have one mature vine maple in front of my office window. Otherwise it’s a parking lot with mostly exotic landscaping. Yet I have had a front row seat to watch black-capped chickadees, warbling vireos, orange-crowned, black-throated gray, Townsend’s and even a Nashville warbler pass through foraging in that one shrub, and what I’ve observed is them pulling small green caterpillars out of the new emerging leaves. Besides hosting significantly more caterpillars that birds forage on, bird migration and nesting timing have evolved with leaf-out of many of our native plants. Some native birds like bushtits will nest even in the urbanized environments of Portland. Seeing a bushtit flying in and out of their sock-shaped nest is a welcome break from the worries of the day. 

Every little bit helps when trying to provide habitat for native birds and keep our urban areas from becoming an ecological “desert.” If you’re not ready to tear out all of your exotic plants to start from scratch, begin by incorporating native plants into your existing landscaping as you fill gaps or replant smaller sections of your yard. Think in layers, since bird diversity generally increases with vegetation layers. Unfortunately, most of our native trees are not approved by the City of Portland for all but the widest mowing strips or areas without overhead wires. Where appropriate start with an overstory tree(s), then add understory shrubs and perennials and low growing ground covers and annuals. The latter may also be tailored for hummingbirds and other pollinators. 

Also, think beyond your fence. If your neighbor has established native overstory trees maybe add more mid and understory vegetation to your yard so they function together as a larger patch of habitat. There are many websites to help you design and select the best native plants for your situation. For ideas, try looking here or here. 

You can further help influence change by using your purchasing power by buying natives. While there are several excellent native plant nurseries in the greater Portland area that will be very happy to guide you, most of the mainstream nurseries and garden centers in town have a native plant section (often supplied by the native nurseries). By inquiring about native plants and purchasing from these nurseries you can help direct the role of native vegetation since they’re going to sell what people want to buy.

Lastly, if you are going to encourage native birds into your yard, do your best to keep them safe: be judicious with any use of pesticides and please protect birds from cats by keeping them indoors or building a "catio" (i.e., an outdoor cat enclosure), especially during the nesting and fledging season.

Sources:

Burghardt, K.T., D.W. Tallamy, and W.G. Shriver.  2008. Impact of native plants on birds and butterfly biodiversity in suburban landscapes. Conservation Biology, Vol 23, No.1, 219-224.

Narango, D.L., D.W. Tallamy, and P.P. Marra.  2017.  Native plants improve breeding and foraging habitat for an insectivorous bird.  Biological Conservation. Vol. 213, Part A, 42-50.

[megadavestewart]

Fly Fishing Founders - Rent this Rod with David Moore and Brian Guengerich - Thomas and Thomas, Abel, Davidson River

Show Notes: https://wetflyswing.com/rent

Show Sponsor: https://wetflyswing.com/members

Rent this Rod is on the podcast this week as part of our Fly Fishing Founders Series where we hear the amazing stories behind the companies in fly fishing today. 

Listen to their struggles and the journey to make a life out of fly fishing. We talk about Thomas & Thomas, Abel, Hatch, the Davidson River and behind the scenes action with the new company.

  Show Sponsors

The Wet Fly Swing Members Society: (https://wetflyswing.com/members)

Show Notes with Rent this Rod

The Davidson River is their home river and a spot that has all of the species covered.

Thomas and Thomas were one of the first companies to support them.  This is a good story about how it all happened.

Yellow Dog is now on board to support Rent this Rod.  This is a no brainer to me as they ship and fish all over the world.

Hatch is on board for their salt water stuff along with Ross Reals who cover their freshwater.

Brian caught his first fish on the Orvis Clearwater.

Go Daddy is the company who hosts their site.

The olive woolly bugger is their goto fly pattern for the Davidson River. 

The Western North Carolina Fly Fishing Guide is Brian's most recommended resource.

Gink and Gasoline put together a write up here about the company.

The Drake Magazine is a favorite for both Brian and Dave.

The Kodak and Blockbuster example where they were the first but not the company that persisted.  Here's how Kodak failed and how Blockbuster failed. 

We talk about the Beastie Boys.  Here's a classic old school Beastie from likely when I was in middle school.  It's still pretty good right.

Here is KISS Party All night long.  A pretty sweet version.

You can find them at RentthisRod.com.

  Resources Noted in the Show

Western North Carolina Fly Guide

  Videos Notes in the Show

A classic Beastie Boys Track - No Sleep till Brooklyn

Here you go - KISS - I Wanna Rock and Roll 

I had to add a little more recent slot - So What Cha Want

  Conclusion with Rent this Rod

Again, pretty good right.  The Fly Fishing Founders series is starting off strong.  My goal is to continue connecting with new companies to help them and to help you along your journey.

We went into the background and the foreground, the Beastie Boys, Yellow Dog, The Drake and all of the others.  Did we miss anything?

Show Notes: https://wetflyswing.com/rent

Check out this episode!

[jonathanbelloblog]

Mountains Climbed Lions Tamed

The bad thing about starting out on your first great South African off-road driving and safari adventure is that you and your camouflage pants, lug-soled hiking boots, and zebra-trimmed bush hat look unbelievably stupid clomping through the gleaming marble lobby of Cape Town’s prestigious Table Bay Hotel. Hmm. Those childhood “Tarzan” movies might not have been the best source of wardrobe tips.

Once outside, we blend in so much better. Lining the hotel’s circular drive are a row of rugged Land Rover LR3s, one in Zambezi silver and four in Tangiers orange (painted in the livery of the recent G4 global adventure challenge), each accompanied by official instructor/guides dressed in matching uniforms of blue long-sleeved shirts and gray trousers. Behind them is a coterie of Land Rover North America handlers, complete with camera crew ready to record the five-star safari ahead.  

This is why we’d traveled halfway around the world. Automobile Magazine had been invited to join a band of well-heeled American adventurers who’d ponied up $8995 each (not including airfare) for the privilege of being terrified into a state of adventure nirvana for the next six days and nights. They are dressed like me, with the exception of a Bottega Veneto handbag here and a pair of Gucci loafers and Prada sunglasses there.

No, you will not meet beer-swilling, skinny-dipping, Jeep Rubicon- type revelers on the Land Rover trail. Our fellow travelers are retired captains of industry and entrepreneurs in aircraft maintenance and real-estate development. But make no mistake: over the course of the next week, in between the gourmet meals and fine wines of the Western Cape, men and women alike will slip from luxurious 1000-thread-count cocoons to muscle their pricey SUVs over perilous mountain passes, to ford rivers presumably teeming with crocodiles, and to part the dense swamp- grass home of black mambas, puff adders, and spitting cobras. Then drink.

There are a few off-road paradises left in the world, and Land Rover knows where to find them, partly because its stalwart products have already blazed those trails and can still be found merrily rolling along where pack mules fear to tread. If you own a Land Rover, you have the keys to it all, and Land Rover culture encourages you to partake.   Dealerships (called Land Rover Centres) have little on-site mountain test courses to try before you buy. Afterward, you can attend one of three magnificent off-road driving schools—at the Quail Lodge in Carmel Valley, California; at the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina; or at Fairmont Le Chateau Montebello in Quebec. The next stop is a full-blown Land Rover Adventure.

South Africa, a country three times the size of Great Britain, is perfect for adventure. It splits the frigid Atlantic from the warm waters of the Indian Ocean at the Cape Point, and depending on which side you’re on, offers subtropical vegetation, rugged mountain ranges, semi-desert, rain forest, scrubby bushveld, and perfectly groomed vineyards.   Its cities are modern, the political climate is fairly stable given its tumultuous past, its little towns are quaint, and the well-marked road system of the Western Cape is in better shape than Michigan’s. All that, and wild elephants in the backyard, too.

  What could be more perfect? That would be our guides, the staff of Kwa-Zulu Natal Land Rover Experience, the world’s first franchised Land Rover off-road training group, led by the irrepressible Rob Timcke, a chain-smoking, Red Bull-slugging firecracker. Timcke is a born raconteur who nevertheless inspires utter confidence in his ability to bring everyone back alive.   Not just a talker, Timcke was raised in a hunting camp in the old Eastern Transvaal on the Mozambique border, where his first language was Zulu. He spent time in the Congo during the really bad years as a South African army intelligence officer and became a professional hunter until 1993, when Communist Party leader Chris Hani was murdered and trophy hunters stayed home. Next, he set up tourist dives to view tiger and great white sharks. Without the cage.  

Timcke then jumped into teaching people the fine art of off-road driving. “I was always a bush person,” he says, “never a sea person. After nine years of getting really seasick, I found some idiot of a bank manager to buy my operation.” His cohorts include his stunning Akrikaaner wife, Carina. (“I slept my way into a job,” she cracks. “Unfortunately, my previous job paid much more.”)   Her brother Pierre Versfeld and top fly-fishing guide Antony Diplock complete the group. Diplock is not a big talker, but then he lives alone on an island near Namibia and, at the age of eighteen, participated in the tribal coming-of-age circumcision ritual with his boyhood Zulu friends. He doesn’t need to talk much.

Handshakes and hellos out of the way, we climb behind right-hand-mounted steering wheels and head south in convoy. To acclimate us to driving on the wrong side of the road, Timcke has sent us down the coast road past the rugged Twelve Apostles mountain chain flanking our left and the beach towns of Camps Bay and Llandudno on our right.   We climb the Chapman’s Peak toll road clinging to seaside cliffs and rumble through the shrubby natural fynbos (“fine bush”) habitat of the Cape of Good Hope nature reserve splashed with the bright spikey blooms of protea.

South Africans are rightfully proud of this, the densest of the world’s six floral kingdoms, counting between 8500 and 9000 species packed in an L-shaped area centered around Cape Town, no more than sixty miles wide. The camera car just misses a turtle in front of us. “Ooh, a fynbos tortoise,” chuckles Timcke. “They’re quite rare.”

The plan for a brief mountainside sojourn in the dirt is scratched due to a hard, fast storm blowing in from the south. This brings fond memories to Timcke: “Carina and I ran a safari in Botswana. We were camping when massive, massive thunderstorms rolled in. You could see lightning for miles.   She was setting the table with white linen, and I noticed the ground was alive. Scorpions and spiders. ‘You take me home and you take me home now!’ she yelled. This other time we were scouting in Zambia, and I sent her out to check the depth of the river crossing. She was chest-deep and turned and yelled, ‘What if there are crocs?’ I told her, ‘Don’t splash.’ ” What a gal.

We carry on to the mountain-ringed Cape Winelands surrounding Paarl, Franschhoek, and Stellenbosch (founded by Dutch and Huguenot settlers in the late 1600s) for a world-class lunch at Bosman’s Restaurant at Grande Roche, Africa’s only Relais Gourmand.   We taste the superb wines of Grand Roche, Boschendal, and Spier. Instructors become chauffeurs. Back in Cape Town, a native choir welcomes us to dinner at the prime minister’s historic residence. It seems that there’ll be no end to the eating and drinking. And drinking.

Real off-roading comes early the next day, and it is very, very good. Our LR3 has a 300-hp V-8 that shifts through a six-speed manu-matic and a hill-descent control system that won’t let the vehicle roll downhill unchecked with your foot off the brake—which is most helpful when it gets dicey. Terrain response allows the perfect tractive selection with the spin of a knob. I select the rock icon to climb into the pines, spotting a mongoose and a few klipspringers, which look like tiny reindeer perched on clothespins.   It looks like Colorado, I think. Baboons run out. Colorado, but with baboons. A sentry male barks and moves toward us, menacing, while the rest of the troop flees. “I raised four baboons,” says Timcke. “They ran loose at our safari lodge. The males are domineering and see humans as other primates. There will be one alpha male and lots of beta males. My mom, they hung on her leg. My dad was the dominant male. At maturity, they challenge the troop. This one, he’d demonstrate his strength to the weaker part of the troop. That would be my sister. He eventually nipped her, drew blood, and I got out the revolver and shot him.” OK, then.

Once through the forest, we dive into a thicket of grass and find that the rain has made a lake of our trail. Knowing that an LR3 can push through water high enough to break over the hood, I press confidently along, completely forgetting I am on highway tires. No problem. We come out in the fynbos, a riotous blast of purple, pink, yellow, and blue spikes, flowers your florist would die for.

Back to Stellenbosch for an open-air Indonesian and Cape Malay buffet with delicacies such as springbok saut and gnu stew. (I made that last one up.) In the city center, there’s a great crafts market, but I’ve decided to not tell you about buying the Congolese mask from the Zairian merchant, whom I somehow bargained up from 280 to 300 rand, about fifty dollars. Rob is suffused with mirth as I climb in with my precious cargo. The guy was sweating. He pleaded. I felt sorry for him. Forget it.

Luggage stowed, we head for an overnight in the coastal town of Knysna. We of course go the longest, most difficult way. There is a dirt trail all the way from Cape Town to Knysna, but we don’t patch into it until we turn off just west of Mossel Bay on Route 327, pass ostrich farms that line the road on both sides, and head into the Centre Valley of the Western Cape, the arid red earth and rocklands of the Little Karoo.

In the distance, two wild ostriches haul tailfeathers across the bleak plain. “Damn quick little buggers,” says Rob. “Sixty kph [37 mph] at full speed.” The road turns to lane, the lane to trail, and soon we are climbing past a sign that reads, ‘Men remove dentures, ladies fasten your bras.’ It’s the oxwagon autobahn, the path of Dutch settlers between 1689 and 1869. If they could do it, so can we.

We see wild Boerperds—native horses—and the most colorful birds imaginable. When we can look. Because now we are creeping downhill. The rocks are loose and have sharp edges, it is scary steep, and in some places the holes are so deep that both rear wheels lift off the ground in a pirouette straight from hell, which gives me shallow breathing. As I crawl from that horror, I loosen my sweaty stranglehold on the wheel, letting it spin free in my hands.

“You mustn’t do that or the ruts in the road will dictate where your tires will be,” Rob corrects me. I forgot he was even there, focusing as I am on the sharp rocks that line the downward slope of this path. I feel six inches too close to everything—the steering wheel, the pedals, the brakes, God. “Take the brake off,” says Rob. Huh?   I have to unhook all ten toes from their death grip on the pedal. I don’t want to. But the LR3 slowly finishes the gradual descent without my feet. We are at Bonniedale, a 1650-hectare guest farm that was named one of the top 4×4 destinations in South Africa for two years.   It’s open to the public for anything from a day’s driving fun to camping and horse trekking. Nico Hesterman, a former conservation officer, and his wife, Danette, have lived in this wilderness for eighteen years and have a traditional outdoor barbecue, or braai, waiting in camp for us. A cold, Namibia-brewed Windhoek lager would have to wait ’til that evening.  

We were sorely ready for the rain forest town of Knysna and its ultraluxurious, ultrachic Pezula Resort. Again we arrive with the camouflage pants, lug-soled hiking boots, and zebra-trimmed bush hats, tromping through someone’s hushed art gallery of a hotel lobby.   But this time, we throw ourselves on the nearest beer bottle, nearly weeping with relief for having made it thus far unscathed. Okay, maybe that really nice lady with the Bottega Veneto bag and Gucci loafers, who rode serenely down that same awful hill, confident in her young son’s ability at the wheel, sipped white wine.  

IFTTT

[jesusvasser]

Mountains Climbed Lions Tamed

The bad thing about starting out on your first great South African off-road driving and safari adventure is that you and your camouflage pants, lug-soled hiking boots, and zebra-trimmed bush hat look unbelievably stupid clomping through the gleaming marble lobby of Cape Town’s prestigious Table Bay Hotel. Hmm. Those childhood “Tarzan” movies might not have been the best source of wardrobe tips.

Once outside, we blend in so much better. Lining the hotel’s circular drive are a row of rugged Land Rover LR3s, one in Zambezi silver and four in Tangiers orange (painted in the livery of the recent G4 global adventure challenge), each accompanied by official instructor/guides dressed in matching uniforms of blue long-sleeved shirts and gray trousers. Behind them is a coterie of Land Rover North America handlers, complete with camera crew ready to record the five-star safari ahead.  

This is why we’d traveled halfway around the world. Automobile Magazine had been invited to join a band of well-heeled American adventurers who’d ponied up $8995 each (not including airfare) for the privilege of being terrified into a state of adventure nirvana for the next six days and nights. They are dressed like me, with the exception of a Bottega Veneto handbag here and a pair of Gucci loafers and Prada sunglasses there.

No, you will not meet beer-swilling, skinny-dipping, Jeep Rubicon- type revelers on the Land Rover trail. Our fellow travelers are retired captains of industry and entrepreneurs in aircraft maintenance and real-estate development. But make no mistake: over the course of the next week, in between the gourmet meals and fine wines of the Western Cape, men and women alike will slip from luxurious 1000-thread-count cocoons to muscle their pricey SUVs over perilous mountain passes, to ford rivers presumably teeming with crocodiles, and to part the dense swamp- grass home of black mambas, puff adders, and spitting cobras. Then drink.

There are a few off-road paradises left in the world, and Land Rover knows where to find them, partly because its stalwart products have already blazed those trails and can still be found merrily rolling along where pack mules fear to tread. If you own a Land Rover, you have the keys to it all, and Land Rover culture encourages you to partake.   Dealerships (called Land Rover Centres) have little on-site mountain test courses to try before you buy. Afterward, you can attend one of three magnificent off-road driving schools—at the Quail Lodge in Carmel Valley, California; at the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina; or at Fairmont Le Chateau Montebello in Quebec. The next stop is a full-blown Land Rover Adventure.

South Africa, a country three times the size of Great Britain, is perfect for adventure. It splits the frigid Atlantic from the warm waters of the Indian Ocean at the Cape Point, and depending on which side you’re on, offers subtropical vegetation, rugged mountain ranges, semi-desert, rain forest, scrubby bushveld, and perfectly groomed vineyards.   Its cities are modern, the political climate is fairly stable given its tumultuous past, its little towns are quaint, and the well-marked road system of the Western Cape is in better shape than Michigan’s. All that, and wild elephants in the backyard, too.

  What could be more perfect? That would be our guides, the staff of Kwa-Zulu Natal Land Rover Experience, the world’s first franchised Land Rover off-road training group, led by the irrepressible Rob Timcke, a chain-smoking, Red Bull-slugging firecracker. Timcke is a born raconteur who nevertheless inspires utter confidence in his ability to bring everyone back alive.   Not just a talker, Timcke was raised in a hunting camp in the old Eastern Transvaal on the Mozambique border, where his first language was Zulu. He spent time in the Congo during the really bad years as a South African army intelligence officer and became a professional hunter until 1993, when Communist Party leader Chris Hani was murdered and trophy hunters stayed home. Next, he set up tourist dives to view tiger and great white sharks. Without the cage.  

Timcke then jumped into teaching people the fine art of off-road driving. “I was always a bush person,” he says, “never a sea person. After nine years of getting really seasick, I found some idiot of a bank manager to buy my operation.” His cohorts include his stunning Akrikaaner wife, Carina. (“I slept my way into a job,” she cracks. “Unfortunately, my previous job paid much more.”)   Her brother Pierre Versfeld and top fly-fishing guide Antony Diplock complete the group. Diplock is not a big talker, but then he lives alone on an island near Namibia and, at the age of eighteen, participated in the tribal coming-of-age circumcision ritual with his boyhood Zulu friends. He doesn’t need to talk much.

Handshakes and hellos out of the way, we climb behind right-hand-mounted steering wheels and head south in convoy. To acclimate us to driving on the wrong side of the road, Timcke has sent us down the coast road past the rugged Twelve Apostles mountain chain flanking our left and the beach towns of Camps Bay and Llandudno on our right.   We climb the Chapman’s Peak toll road clinging to seaside cliffs and rumble through the shrubby natural fynbos (“fine bush”) habitat of the Cape of Good Hope nature reserve splashed with the bright spikey blooms of protea.

South Africans are rightfully proud of this, the densest of the world’s six floral kingdoms, counting between 8500 and 9000 species packed in an L-shaped area centered around Cape Town, no more than sixty miles wide. The camera car just misses a turtle in front of us. “Ooh, a fynbos tortoise,” chuckles Timcke. “They’re quite rare.”

The plan for a brief mountainside sojourn in the dirt is scratched due to a hard, fast storm blowing in from the south. This brings fond memories to Timcke: “Carina and I ran a safari in Botswana. We were camping when massive, massive thunderstorms rolled in. You could see lightning for miles.   She was setting the table with white linen, and I noticed the ground was alive. Scorpions and spiders. ‘You take me home and you take me home now!’ she yelled. This other time we were scouting in Zambia, and I sent her out to check the depth of the river crossing. She was chest-deep and turned and yelled, ‘What if there are crocs?’ I told her, ‘Don’t splash.’ ” What a gal.

We carry on to the mountain-ringed Cape Winelands surrounding Paarl, Franschhoek, and Stellenbosch (founded by Dutch and Huguenot settlers in the late 1600s) for a world-class lunch at Bosman’s Restaurant at Grande Roche, Africa’s only Relais Gourmand.   We taste the superb wines of Grand Roche, Boschendal, and Spier. Instructors become chauffeurs. Back in Cape Town, a native choir welcomes us to dinner at the prime minister’s historic residence. It seems that there’ll be no end to the eating and drinking. And drinking.

Real off-roading comes early the next day, and it is very, very good. Our LR3 has a 300-hp V-8 that shifts through a six-speed manu-matic and a hill-descent control system that won’t let the vehicle roll downhill unchecked with your foot off the brake—which is most helpful when it gets dicey. Terrain response allows the perfect tractive selection with the spin of a knob. I select the rock icon to climb into the pines, spotting a mongoose and a few klipspringers, which look like tiny reindeer perched on clothespins.   It looks like Colorado, I think. Baboons run out. Colorado, but with baboons. A sentry male barks and moves toward us, menacing, while the rest of the troop flees. “I raised four baboons,” says Timcke. “They ran loose at our safari lodge. The males are domineering and see humans as other primates. There will be one alpha male and lots of beta males. My mom, they hung on her leg. My dad was the dominant male. At maturity, they challenge the troop. This one, he’d demonstrate his strength to the weaker part of the troop. That would be my sister. He eventually nipped her, drew blood, and I got out the revolver and shot him.” OK, then.

Once through the forest, we dive into a thicket of grass and find that the rain has made a lake of our trail. Knowing that an LR3 can push through water high enough to break over the hood, I press confidently along, completely forgetting I am on highway tires. No problem. We come out in the fynbos, a riotous blast of purple, pink, yellow, and blue spikes, flowers your florist would die for.

Back to Stellenbosch for an open-air Indonesian and Cape Malay buffet with delicacies such as springbok saut and gnu stew. (I made that last one up.) In the city center, there’s a great crafts market, but I’ve decided to not tell you about buying the Congolese mask from the Zairian merchant, whom I somehow bargained up from 280 to 300 rand, about fifty dollars. Rob is suffused with mirth as I climb in with my precious cargo. The guy was sweating. He pleaded. I felt sorry for him. Forget it.

Luggage stowed, we head for an overnight in the coastal town of Knysna. We of course go the longest, most difficult way. There is a dirt trail all the way from Cape Town to Knysna, but we don’t patch into it until we turn off just west of Mossel Bay on Route 327, pass ostrich farms that line the road on both sides, and head into the Centre Valley of the Western Cape, the arid red earth and rocklands of the Little Karoo.

In the distance, two wild ostriches haul tailfeathers across the bleak plain. “Damn quick little buggers,” says Rob. “Sixty kph [37 mph] at full speed.” The road turns to lane, the lane to trail, and soon we are climbing past a sign that reads, ‘Men remove dentures, ladies fasten your bras.’ It’s the oxwagon autobahn, the path of Dutch settlers between 1689 and 1869. If they could do it, so can we.

We see wild Boerperds—native horses—and the most colorful birds imaginable. When we can look. Because now we are creeping downhill. The rocks are loose and have sharp edges, it is scary steep, and in some places the holes are so deep that both rear wheels lift off the ground in a pirouette straight from hell, which gives me shallow breathing. As I crawl from that horror, I loosen my sweaty stranglehold on the wheel, letting it spin free in my hands.

“You mustn’t do that or the ruts in the road will dictate where your tires will be,” Rob corrects me. I forgot he was even there, focusing as I am on the sharp rocks that line the downward slope of this path. I feel six inches too close to everything—the steering wheel, the pedals, the brakes, God. “Take the brake off,” says Rob. Huh?   I have to unhook all ten toes from their death grip on the pedal. I don’t want to. But the LR3 slowly finishes the gradual descent without my feet. We are at Bonniedale, a 1650-hectare guest farm that was named one of the top 4×4 destinations in South Africa for two years.   It’s open to the public for anything from a day’s driving fun to camping and horse trekking. Nico Hesterman, a former conservation officer, and his wife, Danette, have lived in this wilderness for eighteen years and have a traditional outdoor barbecue, or braai, waiting in camp for us. A cold, Namibia-brewed Windhoek lager would have to wait ’til that evening.  

We were sorely ready for the rain forest town of Knysna and its ultraluxurious, ultrachic Pezula Resort. Again we arrive with the camouflage pants, lug-soled hiking boots, and zebra-trimmed bush hats, tromping through someone’s hushed art gallery of a hotel lobby.   But this time, we throw ourselves on the nearest beer bottle, nearly weeping with relief for having made it thus far unscathed. Okay, maybe that really nice lady with the Bottega Veneto bag and Gucci loafers, who rode serenely down that same awful hill, confident in her young son’s ability at the wheel, sipped white wine.  

IFTTT

[eddiejpoplar]

Mountains Climbed Lions Tamed

The bad thing about starting out on your first great South African off-road driving and safari adventure is that you and your camouflage pants, lug-soled hiking boots, and zebra-trimmed bush hat look unbelievably stupid clomping through the gleaming marble lobby of Cape Town’s prestigious Table Bay Hotel. Hmm. Those childhood “Tarzan” movies might not have been the best source of wardrobe tips.

Once outside, we blend in so much better. Lining the hotel’s circular drive are a row of rugged Land Rover LR3s, one in Zambezi silver and four in Tangiers orange (painted in the livery of the recent G4 global adventure challenge), each accompanied by official instructor/guides dressed in matching uniforms of blue long-sleeved shirts and gray trousers. Behind them is a coterie of Land Rover North America handlers, complete with camera crew ready to record the five-star safari ahead.  

This is why we’d traveled halfway around the world. Automobile Magazine had been invited to join a band of well-heeled American adventurers who’d ponied up $8995 each (not including airfare) for the privilege of being terrified into a state of adventure nirvana for the next six days and nights. They are dressed like me, with the exception of a Bottega Veneto handbag here and a pair of Gucci loafers and Prada sunglasses there.

No, you will not meet beer-swilling, skinny-dipping, Jeep Rubicon- type revelers on the Land Rover trail. Our fellow travelers are retired captains of industry and entrepreneurs in aircraft maintenance and real-estate development. But make no mistake: over the course of the next week, in between the gourmet meals and fine wines of the Western Cape, men and women alike will slip from luxurious 1000-thread-count cocoons to muscle their pricey SUVs over perilous mountain passes, to ford rivers presumably teeming with crocodiles, and to part the dense swamp- grass home of black mambas, puff adders, and spitting cobras. Then drink.

There are a few off-road paradises left in the world, and Land Rover knows where to find them, partly because its stalwart products have already blazed those trails and can still be found merrily rolling along where pack mules fear to tread. If you own a Land Rover, you have the keys to it all, and Land Rover culture encourages you to partake.   Dealerships (called Land Rover Centres) have little on-site mountain test courses to try before you buy. Afterward, you can attend one of three magnificent off-road driving schools—at the Quail Lodge in Carmel Valley, California; at the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina; or at Fairmont Le Chateau Montebello in Quebec. The next stop is a full-blown Land Rover Adventure.

South Africa, a country three times the size of Great Britain, is perfect for adventure. It splits the frigid Atlantic from the warm waters of the Indian Ocean at the Cape Point, and depending on which side you’re on, offers subtropical vegetation, rugged mountain ranges, semi-desert, rain forest, scrubby bushveld, and perfectly groomed vineyards.   Its cities are modern, the political climate is fairly stable given its tumultuous past, its little towns are quaint, and the well-marked road system of the Western Cape is in better shape than Michigan’s. All that, and wild elephants in the backyard, too.

  What could be more perfect? That would be our guides, the staff of Kwa-Zulu Natal Land Rover Experience, the world’s first franchised Land Rover off-road training group, led by the irrepressible Rob Timcke, a chain-smoking, Red Bull-slugging firecracker. Timcke is a born raconteur who nevertheless inspires utter confidence in his ability to bring everyone back alive.   Not just a talker, Timcke was raised in a hunting camp in the old Eastern Transvaal on the Mozambique border, where his first language was Zulu. He spent time in the Congo during the really bad years as a South African army intelligence officer and became a professional hunter until 1993, when Communist Party leader Chris Hani was murdered and trophy hunters stayed home. Next, he set up tourist dives to view tiger and great white sharks. Without the cage.  

Timcke then jumped into teaching people the fine art of off-road driving. “I was always a bush person,” he says, “never a sea person. After nine years of getting really seasick, I found some idiot of a bank manager to buy my operation.” His cohorts include his stunning Akrikaaner wife, Carina. (“I slept my way into a job,” she cracks. “Unfortunately, my previous job paid much more.”)   Her brother Pierre Versfeld and top fly-fishing guide Antony Diplock complete the group. Diplock is not a big talker, but then he lives alone on an island near Namibia and, at the age of eighteen, participated in the tribal coming-of-age circumcision ritual with his boyhood Zulu friends. He doesn’t need to talk much.

Handshakes and hellos out of the way, we climb behind right-hand-mounted steering wheels and head south in convoy. To acclimate us to driving on the wrong side of the road, Timcke has sent us down the coast road past the rugged Twelve Apostles mountain chain flanking our left and the beach towns of Camps Bay and Llandudno on our right.   We climb the Chapman’s Peak toll road clinging to seaside cliffs and rumble through the shrubby natural fynbos (“fine bush”) habitat of the Cape of Good Hope nature reserve splashed with the bright spikey blooms of protea.

South Africans are rightfully proud of this, the densest of the world’s six floral kingdoms, counting between 8500 and 9000 species packed in an L-shaped area centered around Cape Town, no more than sixty miles wide. The camera car just misses a turtle in front of us. “Ooh, a fynbos tortoise,” chuckles Timcke. “They’re quite rare.”

The plan for a brief mountainside sojourn in the dirt is scratched due to a hard, fast storm blowing in from the south. This brings fond memories to Timcke: “Carina and I ran a safari in Botswana. We were camping when massive, massive thunderstorms rolled in. You could see lightning for miles.   She was setting the table with white linen, and I noticed the ground was alive. Scorpions and spiders. ‘You take me home and you take me home now!’ she yelled. This other time we were scouting in Zambia, and I sent her out to check the depth of the river crossing. She was chest-deep and turned and yelled, ‘What if there are crocs?’ I told her, ‘Don’t splash.’ ” What a gal.

We carry on to the mountain-ringed Cape Winelands surrounding Paarl, Franschhoek, and Stellenbosch (founded by Dutch and Huguenot settlers in the late 1600s) for a world-class lunch at Bosman’s Restaurant at Grande Roche, Africa’s only Relais Gourmand.   We taste the superb wines of Grand Roche, Boschendal, and Spier. Instructors become chauffeurs. Back in Cape Town, a native choir welcomes us to dinner at the prime minister’s historic residence. It seems that there’ll be no end to the eating and drinking. And drinking.

Real off-roading comes early the next day, and it is very, very good. Our LR3 has a 300-hp V-8 that shifts through a six-speed manu-matic and a hill-descent control system that won’t let the vehicle roll downhill unchecked with your foot off the brake—which is most helpful when it gets dicey. Terrain response allows the perfect tractive selection with the spin of a knob. I select the rock icon to climb into the pines, spotting a mongoose and a few klipspringers, which look like tiny reindeer perched on clothespins.   It looks like Colorado, I think. Baboons run out. Colorado, but with baboons. A sentry male barks and moves toward us, menacing, while the rest of the troop flees. “I raised four baboons,” says Timcke. “They ran loose at our safari lodge. The males are domineering and see humans as other primates. There will be one alpha male and lots of beta males. My mom, they hung on her leg. My dad was the dominant male. At maturity, they challenge the troop. This one, he’d demonstrate his strength to the weaker part of the troop. That would be my sister. He eventually nipped her, drew blood, and I got out the revolver and shot him.” OK, then.

Once through the forest, we dive into a thicket of grass and find that the rain has made a lake of our trail. Knowing that an LR3 can push through water high enough to break over the hood, I press confidently along, completely forgetting I am on highway tires. No problem. We come out in the fynbos, a riotous blast of purple, pink, yellow, and blue spikes, flowers your florist would die for.

Back to Stellenbosch for an open-air Indonesian and Cape Malay buffet with delicacies such as springbok saut and gnu stew. (I made that last one up.) In the city center, there’s a great crafts market, but I’ve decided to not tell you about buying the Congolese mask from the Zairian merchant, whom I somehow bargained up from 280 to 300 rand, about fifty dollars. Rob is suffused with mirth as I climb in with my precious cargo. The guy was sweating. He pleaded. I felt sorry for him. Forget it.

Luggage stowed, we head for an overnight in the coastal town of Knysna. We of course go the longest, most difficult way. There is a dirt trail all the way from Cape Town to Knysna, but we don’t patch into it until we turn off just west of Mossel Bay on Route 327, pass ostrich farms that line the road on both sides, and head into the Centre Valley of the Western Cape, the arid red earth and rocklands of the Little Karoo.

In the distance, two wild ostriches haul tailfeathers across the bleak plain. “Damn quick little buggers,” says Rob. “Sixty kph [37 mph] at full speed.” The road turns to lane, the lane to trail, and soon we are climbing past a sign that reads, ‘Men remove dentures, ladies fasten your bras.’ It’s the oxwagon autobahn, the path of Dutch settlers between 1689 and 1869. If they could do it, so can we.

We see wild Boerperds—native horses—and the most colorful birds imaginable. When we can look. Because now we are creeping downhill. The rocks are loose and have sharp edges, it is scary steep, and in some places the holes are so deep that both rear wheels lift off the ground in a pirouette straight from hell, which gives me shallow breathing. As I crawl from that horror, I loosen my sweaty stranglehold on the wheel, letting it spin free in my hands.

“You mustn’t do that or the ruts in the road will dictate where your tires will be,” Rob corrects me. I forgot he was even there, focusing as I am on the sharp rocks that line the downward slope of this path. I feel six inches too close to everything—the steering wheel, the pedals, the brakes, God. “Take the brake off,” says Rob. Huh?   I have to unhook all ten toes from their death grip on the pedal. I don’t want to. But the LR3 slowly finishes the gradual descent without my feet. We are at Bonniedale, a 1650-hectare guest farm that was named one of the top 4×4 destinations in South Africa for two years.   It’s open to the public for anything from a day’s driving fun to camping and horse trekking. Nico Hesterman, a former conservation officer, and his wife, Danette, have lived in this wilderness for eighteen years and have a traditional outdoor barbecue, or braai, waiting in camp for us. A cold, Namibia-brewed Windhoek lager would have to wait ’til that evening.  

We were sorely ready for the rain forest town of Knysna and its ultraluxurious, ultrachic Pezula Resort. Again we arrive with the camouflage pants, lug-soled hiking boots, and zebra-trimmed bush hats, tromping through someone’s hushed art gallery of a hotel lobby.   But this time, we throw ourselves on the nearest beer bottle, nearly weeping with relief for having made it thus far unscathed. Okay, maybe that really nice lady with the Bottega Veneto bag and Gucci loafers, who rode serenely down that same awful hill, confident in her young son’s ability at the wheel, sipped white wine.  

IFTTT

[advguides-blog]

Make Your Trip Easy With a Guide at Brevard Mountain

North Carolina's mountains contain some of the finest mountain biking to be found anywhere. The best rides represent many of western north locations not to miss directions. Anyone can find the perfect guide to get started, in the time you have based on its features, difficulty, and length. Different destinations place of US like Burke County, Asheville, Brevard, Boone, etc. will also make the trip of biking, climbing, fly fishing, family activities, etc. more exciting with the company Adventure Collective.

 What is your Riding Experience?

A suitable spot will make the ride easy with the selective good mountain bike. And it all comes back-down to the type of riding you do. Brevard Mountain Biking is literally facing the crossroads between many types of mountain nature reserve. These will also a fun way to start travel by experiencing through the Asheville Trail. The type of drifting you attempt to tackle will influence highly the style and bike configuration. Before buying any kind of bike, it is best to know where will be moving and what types of obstacles will face up on the rides. This will ultimately help and decide on the best mountain bicycle for usage.

 How guide can be beneficial to a ride?

A travel guide is the best travel companion. It is an essential part of traveling. When planning a mountain biking, Asheville is the top most point on the travel-destination list. There is everything from luxury rentals with 24-hour service to more traditional mountain. It offers outstanding ideas about the places you must see. These places will get good food and the spot for your accommodation. Normally, Travel Guide to Asheville would help you by explaining about all the information required to reach a particular travel destination. This area would help you to get release from the disadvantages and treasure a vast array of shelters.

  �'V�=$

[flyfishingthesmokies]

Brook Haven

Brook Haven Fly Fishing

Welcome to the south’s newest private trout stream; Brook Haven! Imagine being surrounded by the beauty of the Smoky Mountains with towering waterfalls and deep plunge pools loaded with Trophy Brook and Rainbow Trout. Brook Haven offers breathtaking scenery with an equally fantastic private fly fishing experience. Limited to only 4 anglers per day, Brook Haven offers…

[flyfishingthesmokies]

Winter Projects

Each Winter the Fly Fishing industry is typically busy trying to get ready for their upcoming seasons. Be that tying flies, repairs to gear and boats, or hatching out new game plans to one up their competition. Lots of guides and shops also travel to trade shows in far flung reaches of the country in hopes of attracting new customers. While we have our fair share in all of those activities, we…

[flyfishingthesmokies]

Fall Colors starting in the Great Smoky Mountains

Fall Colors starting in the Great Smoky Mountains

Fall Colors starting in the Great Smoky Mountains

Its beginning to look like Fall across the Great Smoky Mountains. Colors are starting to turn in the high elevations and its shaping up to be an early color season with one that promisies to have bright vivid yellows, reds, and oranges!

High elevations are expected to reach their peak the first weekend of October. Areas such as Mt LeConte,…

[flyfishingthesmokies]

Hazel Creek Fly Fishing Report August

Hazel Creek Fly Fishing Report August

Hazel Creek Fly Fishing Report August

Hazel Creek in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park is fishing superb this summer. Afternoon showers have kept water levels about perfect and stream temperatures in great shape for trout! August is typically a very hot and dry month, however thats not the case this year.

We are seeing good hatches this month on Hazel Creek. The trout are very active and…

[flyfishingthesmokies]

Summer Fly Fishing in the Smoky Mountains

Summer Fly Fishing in the Smoky Mountains

Summer Fly Fishing the Smoky Mountains

Summer Fly Fishing in the Smoky Mountains is incredible! If you haven’t been out yet, grab a rod and hit some of the fantastic rivers and lakes in the region. This Summer’s Fly Fishing Report gives you an idea of what to expect, and what to use straight from the guides.

The top destination this month has to be the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. The…

[flyfishingthesmokies]

Tuckasegee River Fishing Report May 19th

Tuckasegee River Fishing Report May 19th

Tuckasegee River Fishing Report May 19th

The Tuckasegee River fishing is incredible this week! Ideal generation schedules from the East and West Fork have the Tuckasegee River fishing perfectly. The action has been fantastic through out the entire day. We are catching big Rainbow and Brown Trout, along with Smallmouth Bass this week. Hatches have been great each day with tons of Caddis and…

[flyfishingthesmokies]

March Madness Fishing Report

March Madness Fishing Report

March Madness Fishing Report

March Madness Fishing Report for the Smoky Mountain region. Fly Fishing action around the Smoky Mountains region is very strong this month. March Madness applies to not only basketball but fishing too! Despite a mid month cold snap that brought chilling tempratures and snow to the mountains, the fishing is excellent. We are starting to see temps warm back to normal…