Return Journey
It didn't make sense.
I left a stream at a youth camp in North Georgia one morning, trying to figure out why on earth I had just been able to catch some stocked trout in their stream on the property.
Why were they paying for this? The camp doesn't advertise or tell the campers to go fish the stream. The camp has nothing to do with trout fishing.
Then one day it all clicked. While looking at an old map in my room covering Trout Streams of North Georgia, I noticed the stream I had been fishing was identified as a year-round stream. I took this to mean nothing more than it "could support trout year round", but this wasn't conclusive to indicate I was catching wild fish on my previous trip.
My interest piqued and I started to try and better identify how to tell stream born fish from stockers. I hadn't really thought about it before...that you would be able to tell a difference. The development of the fins, the body shape, colors, patterns, spots, vibrancy; all these characteristics can tell whether the fish is a stocker or stream born. After reviewing the few photos I had made that day, I realized those were stream-born fish (although not conclusively 'wild' I'll admit).
This made a lot more sense than the camp stocking trout in their stream for no apparent reason.
Once I realized that stream was supporting a reproducing population of trout, I had to go back and try to find them again..I still couldn't believe it really. I had pictures verifying my suspicions, but wanted to test the waters again (quite literally).
Now we arrive at this past March. After my first reconnaissance mission, I returned with my small rod again. I was working at the camp for the weekend, but had full intention of exploring the stream for a few hours one afternoon. I borrowed my buddy's nice camera too (Canon 5D Mark III), and headed down to the stream. I tried the fly that had worked last time, but no takers. The main pool seemed pretty void of life too...just a leafy grey bottom. Maybe they're all gone.
Maybe I had spooked them into hiding. (I had a friend with me this time, and we weren't nearly as stealth as my solo trip before.)
Maybe I've been dreaming this whole year.
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My friend got bored eventually, and headed up for a meal. I said I'd catch up in a few.
I moved below a bridge that crosses the river, and changed up my fly. Downsized to a tiny rainbow warrior (thanks Chattooga River Fly shop). And on my second cast where the water falls below the bridge, I hooked another tiny rainbow.
"How wild" I thought.