Changing Gears (and Gear)

Today I'm trading 12-inch worms for 1/32-ounce hair jigs, 50-pound braid for 4-pound Nanofil, and a Revo Beast and heavy baitcaster for an ultralight spinning outfit. Last week's fishing was from a boat for jumbo largemouths in Mexico's Sierra Madre Mountains. This weekend, my boys and I are head for the Great Smoky Mountains, where we'll wade clear mountain streams and cast for trout and smallmouth bass.

I enjoy fishing for everything that swims, and variety in the gear, the techniques, the terrain and the fish themselves is part of what keeps every trip interesting. In Mexico's fertile lakes, my lure disappeared a foot or so down in the water column. In the Smokies, I'll be able to count rocks on the bottom of a 10-foot deep pool.

I actually haven't figured out our specific plan yet. We may do a little smallmouth fishing in the North Carolina mountains before we get to the national park. Within the park, we may fish bigger streams for browns and rainbows or visit some headwaters branch with wild brook trout in mind. If we do go for brookies, any fish we catch is apt to be smaller than most of the lures I used in Mexico!

We're staying two nights in Townsend, Tennessee, where Nathaniel will play music on the Pickin' Porch at Wood'n'Strings Dulcimer Shop on Saturday evening, and we'll fish our way there, spend some time in creeks on Saturday, and then fish our way home on Sunday.

The Boat Ride

"This is the hardest rain I've ever seen," James Hall announced to his GoPro, which was likewise getting pounded with sheets of sideways rain.

I couldn't argue. I'm pretty sure I've never been wetter (even submerged), and the rain came so hard at times that it stung my skin. Adding drama, crosswind-formed waves kept the boat rocking, lightning flashed around us and the combination of the rain and the low cloud we were in made it seriously tough to see. Plus, we were deep in Sierra Madre Mountains on a wild and remote lake.

Our guide calmly persisted as we gritted our teeth, ducked our heads and laughed at the situation for lack of anything else that could be done. I'm not sure what our guide was thinking because he didn't speak English and I don't speak Spanish.  James speaks some Spanish -- enough to communicate as needed while calmly fishing. But given the situation, all we really could do was hang on and trust the man who was steering the craft knew which direction it should be pointed.

We had noticed the clouds gathering and felt the rain start. It looked like it would pass, though, and none of us minded getting wet. Plus we were fishing Lake Pichachos, Mexico's newest bass lake, and we only had a few hours that afternoon and a couple of hours the next morning to fish. We really didn't want to cut it any shorter than was necessary. By the time we knew the rain had set in to stay and we'd better get moving, it was coming down as hard as rain cold fall, and under those conditions, we were a good 20 minutes ride from where we needed to be.

By the time we got back, the lightning was notably closer and more frequent. The rain subsided a bit at the end, but we actually kind of missed it because it was a warm rain and the wind was cold on soaked clothes. The adventure continued with a truck getting stuck on a newly cut and rain drenched dirt road and us climbing the hill on foot in nearly complete darkness. We made it out safely, and having done so, I have to admit that I'm glad for the storm. It was an adventure I won't quickly forget.