Day: October 12, 2021

Bradley Fork, Cherokee, NC, Fishing, Fresh water tank leak, Great Smoky Mountains National Park, North Carolina, Repairs, Smokemont Campground, NC

Errands in The Great Smoky Mountains National Park

by Greg • October 12, 2021 • 0 Comments

Friday, September 24, 2021

47° at 3:00AM

As I lay in bed, slowly waking up, I thought it unlikely the fresh water tank was leaking in two places, although possible with all the bumps and jolts I give it driving rough highways at 70 mph. At Highland Haven, I had trouble closing the drain cock after draining the tank so I could fill with fresh water. I had to use a screw driver to leverage it. Maybe I cracked it, or maybe it was just worn out. At any rate, it appears to be a simple thing to replace. If it still leaks and is the tank that’s leaking, I may have to go to Charlotte to get it replaced.

I went into Cherokee with a list. Call Martha was first. I wasn’t sure she was getting the InReach satellite messages, as reception here is spotty. It’s an easy 15 minute drive into Cherokee. Martha was doing fine, playing tennis and going to the UVA football game tonight. I told her about the leaking fresh water tank.

I went to an auto parts store in Cherokee. The plug for my forward-facing video camera had come apart, so I was looking for the parts that screw into the end of a plug that goes in the cigarette lighter. I consider this an essential piece of equipment. If I am in an accident pulling an expensive trailer with an expensive truck, I want evidence to show what happened. Since I have already had one expensive issue, the insurance would probably drop me if I had another.

A very nice gentleman said he didn’t have anything like that, but if I was going that way, there is a Walmart in Sylva, with several auto parts stores near it. I was going that way anyway, to Fallin’s RV Repair for a water tank drain cock, wishfully thinking the leak was coming from a faulty drain cock. This was a busy, little place with RVs in every available place to park. There was one man inside the small store. He was serving one customer while he talked on the phone to another. I wandered up and down the isles looking for a drain cock. I turned to a voice asking, “Can I help you find something?” He went right to it. There were two designs, so I bought both and thanked him. As he checked me out, he answered the phone, while another man came in. How he kept his pleasant demeanor through all this, I don’t know.

Now on to Sylva, about 17 miles away. I thought my GPS was taking me a crazy route, winding my way around this old railroad town, but that’s just the way it is. As I headed to Walmart, I envisioned walking around there for an hour looking for something they probably didn’t have. I spotted an auto parts store…… and turned left across busy traffic.

Three service people were helping customers, so I started wandering around when a kind female voice said, “Can I help you?” I showed her the screw and cap, telling her what they went to. She went right to the electrical isle and scanned plugs, selecting one, asking, “Will this do it?” Staring at it while rearranging my mind, I thought all I needed was the button. Then I looked at the price tag – $6. I smiled and answered, “Yes, thank you very much.”

Walking to the truck, I looked at the plug with two wires coming out of it. OK, I would have to cut my wire and connect these. I can do that, I thought. Staring at it in the truck, I realized I could just unscrew the end, take the button and put it into mine. I headed back to camp, optimistic I was going to solve both problems. Just out of Cherokee, I stopped at a pullover beside the Oconaliftee River. There is a well-traveled foot path beside the river. Across the river I saw three fishermen beside a huge pool. In the reservation, they stock the river with trout. Entering the park, cars were pulled over next to a big field where elk grazed.

After eating some lunch, I decided to go fishing for a couple of hours. I didn’t have time to go far, so I started at the end of the campground where Bradley Fork comes into the campground. I got in at a beautiful pool. Fishing a hopper, nothing was interested, so I started for the next pool. Someone was standing in the middle of it.

I walked up the road, heading up the mountain. I gave him what I thought was enough room to fish the next two hours and got in at another beautiful pool. Having no luck, I changed to a Royal Wulff. No luck. After fishing a gorgeous pool without moving a fish, I changed to a nymph. No luck, so I changed to a big streamer. No luck. I was changing again when the young fisherman who I thought I had given enough room, camp tromping past asking if I had any luck. I shook my head. I think he said he was doing well, but I couldn’t hear over the roaring river.

Bradley Fork is a beautiful trout stream – big, powerful, crystal clear water still flowing hard after the rains. Sometimes I heard airplanes flying over. Sometimes it was the river making a similar sound. Cicadas were also singing their mating song. Frustrated after a few more pools, I decided to head back. It was Friday afternoon, and two more fishermen passed me, going up the mountain. Then I saw two fishing their way up. What’s it going to be like on Saturday?

Bradley Fork, Collins Creek, Fishing, Great Smoky Mountains National Park, North Carolina, Smokemont Campground, NC

Collins Creek and Bradley Fork

by Greg • October 12, 2021 • 1 Comment

Thursday, September 23, 2021

47 degrees at 6:00

Batteries at 85%

After the heavy rains Bradley Fork was up, running hard and brown. My guide is The Ultimate Guide to Fly-Fishing The Great Smoky Mountains by Don Kirk and Greg Ward. It’s a good book, woven with stories to keep it interesting. In this watershed (the Oconaluftee River) they discuss many streams, but have had good luck on Collins Creek. It’s a small stream, so my pick of the day. I was in the Smokies a few weeks ago with Martha, Karen and the kids, staying in Cades Cove. We so many gorgeous trout streams, I came back to fish some of them. The Great Smoky Mountains National Park was the number one most visited national park in 2020, and the third most visited park, the Blue Ridge Parkway being #1.

I drove up to the Collins Creek Picnic area and walked down to look at the creek. Small is right, and it has lots of trees across it and mountain laurel hanging over the edges. I went back to the parking area where a guy was getting out of his truck. Somehow he looked like a fisherman, so I went over to ask if he was going to fish. This stream is not big enough for two. He said he was not fishing. He and his friend Charlie were over the mountain at Big Creek, but since the temperatures were dropping, they were going into town to get propane. He suggested I talk to Charlie, who was in the bathroom.

Charlie Roberts introduced himself and began talking about the creek. He said he usually walks down to the road and starts, fishing back up to the car. He sometimes fishes up from here, but it has a lot of timber down and the laurels are thick. He said it opens up after a while. He is commercial fly tyer. There was a long conversation about what flies to use, but in the end said he usually fishes a Royal Wulff.

I put hip waders on and set up my small rod with a Yellow Sally. There were two beautiful pools to start with, but I didn’t move a fish. From there, the going got tough, and tougher the further upstream I went. I hit a few more pools without any luck, then decided to get on the trail and walk up. The path had been rerouted due to fallen trees, and the going was rough, especially after all the rains made the going slippery. I heard a ghostly voice behind me saying, “The Hell with this!” I turned around and walked back to the truck, drank some water and ate some peanuts. It was only 10:30, so I decided to walk down to the road and fish up.

The pools were bigger, the first two being beautiful. Didn’t move a fish, so I switched to a Royal Wulff. As I fished my way upstream, the going got tougher until again I heard that voice. I got out and beat the bushes back up the mountain, luckily ending up at my truck. There are a lot of streams in this area, so I am moving this one to the bottom of my list. Now maybe if I had put on a different fly the results might have been different. When you are catching fish, it’s a lot easier to put up with the impediments.

I went back and had lunch and a cup of coffee. I read my book and relaxed for a while. At 3:00 I drove to the the north end of the campground, geared up with the bigger rod and walked up the well-traveled gravel road for a half hour before walking down a path to Bradley Fork. It was completely opposite from this morning. This is a pretty big stream and I was standing in front of a gorgeous pool with more upstream. Amazingly, the water was clear, still running a bit hard, but very fishable. I had been hearing cicadas all day. I know I have cicada flies, but couldn’t find them. I opted for a hopper (grasshopper).

This 9’ 5wt rod with a 9’ leader might be a problem. I got hung up five times before I ever got the fly in the water! On the third cast I caught a 10-inch rainbow. Two casts later a smaller one. It’s amazing how that energizes you. Now to move. This was bigger water and I had on hip waders, but it wasn’t particularly slippery. Finally I made my way the other side so I could cast to the next three pools. Two fish missed it. Maybe the water is moving too fast for the fly to sit long enough. A few more chased it, so I wasn’t going to change flies. It’s a beautiful stream with lots of pools and room to cast, although with this big rod I managed to get caught on limbs several times.

I had only fished an hour and a half, but decided not to push my luck. Now, where to get back across the stream. Finally I found a reasonable place to cross without filling my waders, but there was no path on the other side. Again, I beat my way through the mangled laurels until I came to the road. My legs were tired now. I know I’m out of shape. 10 days of this should help.

When I got back to camp, I noticed it was wet under the trailer, so I peeked underneath. The fresh water tank was dripping in two places. GEEZ! All those thoughts went quickly through my head. New water tank? Where would I get that done? There’s an excellent Airstream place in Charlotte. Could I make it through the trip with this problem? Could I fix it myself? Always something!

Charlottesville to GSMNP, Great Smoky Mountains National Park, I40, I64, I81, North Carolina, Smokemont Campground, NC, Travel, Virginia, Virginia Highland Haven Airstream Park

Driving to The Great Smoky Mountains National Park

by Greg • October 12, 2021 • 0 Comments

Tuesday, September 21, 2021

It’s a 7-8-hour drive to the Smokies from Charlottesville, depending on how you go and where you are going, but Martha wanted me to break it up, so I booked a night in Highland Haven Campground outside Roanoke. I went down 29, which is pleasant enough. You just have to be alert to turns. Then 220, to 221 up the mountain. It is not an easy drive to Highland Haven, especially in the rain, but I arrived and met campground hostess, Nancy, and pulled into site 26. This campground is known for its spectacular sunsets, but I wasn’t going to see it tonight. It was hard to see anything.

I drank a half bottle of wine listening to music of Andrew Loyd Webber turned up loud while making a salad. Hope I didn’t wake the neighbors.

I got up at 4:00, read for a while until daylight, then hooked up, filled the water tank and got on the road at 8:00. It was raining lightly as I followed Rt. 221 south through the cute little town of Floyd, famous for its country music.

I thought about Virginia Highland Haven Campground, which is an Airstream only campground that is owned by its campers. When someone is not there, you can rent a site for the very reasonable fee of $35 with full hookups. It’s a beautiful spot with wonderful views looking west.

I have never driven 221, but it’s beautiful country with lovely, mountain farmland and quaint, little towns. Surely it would be more fun to drive when I have more time and it isn’t raining. At Hillsville I got on 77S. The rains became harder and would continue the entire drive, sometimes hard, sometimes light. One hand seemed to be constantly changing the windshield wiper speed. Still, I could see the majority of the big storm was to my west. Traffic was busy, but not as bad as I81. Still, it winds through the mountains to Statesville, where I turned onto I40 west, and into the storm I went.

Sometimes the rains were so heavy, traffic slowed to 45mph. My strategy is to get behind a tractor trailer and follow at a distance that allows stopping, but where I can see his lights. If you are a car driver, you curse the trucks that are slow uphill and fast downhill. If you pull a trailer, you appreciate their professionalism, their knowledge of the roads and their ability to drive in all kinds of weather. They move into the left lane when passing a disabled truck on the shoulder. They blink their lights to let you into their lane. If you let them into your lane, they flash their brake lights to thank you. Actually, they put on their flashers for a second or two. It took me forever to learn how they made those brake lights flash, but without slowing down.

I have the greatest respect for truck drivers. They deliver to every store, merchant, gas station and post office. They are the life blood of our economy. They drive at night or in daytime. They put up with poor car drivers entering the highway at too slow a speed, or changing lanes right in front of them. Whenever I am driving through a city, I follow a truck. It’s like a running back getting behind a 6’6. 360 pound lineman. They run interference for me. When I am in heavy rains like this, I follow a truck, and when I stop following, I flash my headlights or tap my brake lights to thank them for their help. At a rest stop, I laid down for a 1-hour nap. Whew! Renewed energy.

I turned onto 220 south with the rains still coming. In Asheville, I missed a turn and had to go into a Home Depot to turn around and get new directions. I’m still not sure what I was supposed to do. Then onto 221 in heavy rains, then Rt. 19 through Maggie Valley. I’ve been in the mountains all day, and the rain wasn’t helping. When I could barely see the road, I ended up behind a pickup pulling a large water tank on a trailer. In front of him was another truck pulling a trailer with a front end loader on it. They were obviously working together, and they knew these roads, so I continued to follow. When they pulled into a rest area, I did too. Then back out on the road, following. These guys were excellent drivers. When I turned onto 441, I flashed my lights to thank them.

441 is called “The Smoky Mountain Parkway”. Driving through Cherokee, NC I stopped to fill up the gas tank – well the diesel tank in my case. This is a nice little town, not far from the campground. I thought I would be climbing up a steep mountain, but was surprised to see it was fairly level, following the Oconoluftee River. The rains had lightened up, and people were watching elk graze by the Visitor’s Center. I could feel my blood pressure ease.

At 3:00 I pulled up to Smokemont Campground and said my prayers, thanking God for guiding me safely in a difficult two days of driving. In a light rain I parked and leveled the trailer for my 9-day stay. I put the awnings out as it drizzled rain. By the time I finished, the rains stopped. I went for a walk around the campground to get my bearings straight.

It’s a nice campground that would be entirely full by the weekend. Bradley Creek runs through the campground, joining the Oconoluftee River just below the campground. I was interested in fishing both of these, so I walked right over to the stream. High and muddy, as I suspected. It wasn’t terrible, but also not fishable. I wondered how fast it would run out of here. At the north end of the campground, I found the Bradley Creek Trail, which looked more like a highway. I could easily drive my big truck up it, except for the locked gate. As I read the fishing regulations sign, I noticed a yellow caterpiller walking up it. An odd looking creature, it’s black head had four antennae, and there was a black tip on it’s tail. Was this a Yellow Sally nymph? I have no flies that look anything like this. I reached for my phone to take a picture, but had left it in the trailer.

Walking back down the other side of the stream, I talked to an Airstream couple who were dumping rain from their awning. “Did it rain a lot here?” the lady asked. “Oh yes!” I replied. They had gone home for a few days. They were in a nicely shaded spot, but that wasn’t good for their roof covered with solar panels. The husband was deploying two portable panels, aiming them at the sun that was now peeking through the clouds. “One amp”, he noted. “Well” she said, “that’s the end of the rains for a while.” It was nice to see sun peeking through the trees.

As I walked along the stream, I looked tor yellow bugs, but didn’t see any. Back at the trailer, I got the Garmin InReach and turned it on. Without cell phone reception, it is my only means of communicating with Martha. “No signal” the device indicated. I took it up to a clearing, where i could get clear access to the sky. No signal. I waited 15 minutes before giving up. I set it on my little ladder in a clearing behind the trailer, leaving it there while I cooked dinner – ratatouille and chicken. Checking it again, I was happy to see the message and tracking were sent.