NC BACKCOUNTRY: Fly-fishing on Davidson River

After a rough week at work I needed to get out of the fast pace of Charlotte and into the tranquility of the mountains. So I called my dad to meet me at a pull-off about 3 miles down SR485 just past the fish hatchery in the Pisgah National Forest. I had to drive 3 hours from Charlotte and dad had to drive about 1 1/2 hours from Sylva. I told him to meet me at 11am. I wasn't really expecting him until sometime after 12pm but to my surprise, he pulls up exactly at 11am. We then pitch camp at a site just 20 yards down the Daniel Ridge Loop Trail. Our campsite was hidden behind a wall of Rhododendrons on one side and a 20 ft wide tributary on the other. Once the campsites assembled, we suit up in our waders, gear and fly-rods and scurry into the cold rapid water. The catch and release regulated section of the Davidson River has a reputation of being one of the best fly fishing rivers on the east coast. With an excellent population of large trout we head upstream. Looking for brown, rainbow, and brook trout in the deep pockets, pools, and the glassy flat water while dodging other anglers on the stream. As proficient at fly fishing as we are, our creels are devoid of any catch. After a few hours on the stream we change plans and head down below the Davidson River Campground to the hatchery supported trout waters. This is were our luck changed. My dad caught two brooks, a 14" and a 10" and I caught a 10" brook, just enough for supper. We both caught them in the fast riffling water along the edge of the banks. Back at camp and with a cup of Evan Williams in hand we start cooking up supper. Dad takes his place as the roll of cook and I ignite the campfire. Fresh trout and our traditional side dish of grilled potatoes and onions was on the menu. With full bellies we take a short hike up to view the Jackson Falls nearby. The rest of the night consisted of finishing off the Evan Williams, stoking the fire, and listening to the rhythm of the stream pouring past us. Bailey is really enjoying his freedom exploring the perimeters of camp without challenging my limitations for him. Dad calls it first and retreats to the tent and Bailey soon follows. Staring into the fire at night with water flowing in the background makes for heavy eyelids faster than a cocktail of beer and Nyquil. Time for me to call it. An hour in a group of four young people stroll through our campsite to a second site about 15 yards behind us. And then a group girls follow. For the next two hours or so the soothing music of the stream gets drowned out with excessive chatter. The temperature drops to around 40' or so. I slept solid with a few interruptions of waking myself up to my own snoring. Early morning brings warmer temperatures and sunshine. Breakfast consisted of two over-easy eggs, Warren Wilson's sausage, and hashbrowns. One of the young campers strolls back through our campsite apparently leaving and without even saying one word to us. Taking our time we pack up and haul everything to our trucks. We then traditionally scour around the campsite to make sure we leave it cleaner than the way we found it. I also checked the other site and find some trash the young campers left after just one night. This has been a great trip spending valuable time out in the woods with my dad. The older you get the more meaningful it becomes.

PS. There are unwritten rules when it comes to the great outdoors. One is "Leave it cleaner than how you found it" or "Pack it in, pack it out". Another one is "Respect others campsite and go around". Please teach your kids some unwritten rules ( that I have just written ).