On Dec 27th I received a call from a lady in transit from Tampa Florida, on her way to the Smoky Mts with her family. She wanted to inquire about booking my guide service for a day of fly fishing instruction for her family... all six of them! I explained this was possible but stretching my ability because they were also interested in catching some fish. She had two college aged boys that really wanted to do some fly fishing and not just casting lessons. I again explained that there was six of them and only one of me, but I would do my best. I asked if they had any waders and she replied "no." I then let her know that I wasn't equipped to furnish waders for her whole family and the water was very cold, so we would be forced to fish from the bank. She inquired about the weather and let me know that they were wearing shorts and t-shirts. I looked out the window at the snow that had fallen the day before and thought.. this is going to be fun. But because the holiday season was created for families, I would be of good cheer. So, we set up a time to meet on the following day.


Thursday found the weather forcast sounding warmer, in the upper 60's, but that didn't happen in the Nantahala Gorge, with towering mountains on both sides, blocking ALL sunlight. The snow was hard frozen to the ground and the mud along the river crunched under the felt soles of my boots. My fair weather friends from Florida were bundled up like eskimos but ready to try their hand at fly fishing for mountain trout.

The instruction started out as normal with the description of the fundamentals of fly casting and the challenge of trying to learn from the bank instead of wading in the stream. A roll cast would be our best option for the short half day excursion, so we begin the "to be eventful day", with high hopes and dry socks, not knowing that the day would end differently.

One thing that brightens the day for any old guide is the presence of three beautiful young ladies, however, mine were just too used to Florida warm temps and were soon back in the truck with the engine running and the heat on HIGH! The rest of the day we only experienced their presence for short intervals. It was beautiful on the river but much warmer in the truck.

One of the young men turned out to be a natural at fly casting and quickly landed several nice fish. He ended the day with a "smoky mountain grand slam"!, with a Rainbow, Brown and Brook trout to his count.

The dad quickly landed a nice Rainbow, but his success was hard to find on the rest of the trip as the fishing seemed to slow down a bit.

His son, a new engineer working for Disney designing new roller coasters, let on that he had never caught a fish of any kind... ever! I quickly saw this as a calling from God and was convinced that he would experience this thrill today, or my name is not Daniel Boone.

His day started out on the bad side, slipping off of a rock and ending up standing in 28 degree water up to his very cold shins. He quickly returned to the truck and took his wet socks off and then returned his cold wet shoes to his clammy feet and promptly returned to the stream. Within 30 minutes he was standing in the stream once again.... burrrr! After seeing the temperature of the water on my stream thermometer I convinced him the only reason the stream wasn't frozen was because of it's steady pace down the mountain. He again returned to the truck and to my surprise quickly returned, sporting a pair of shiny dress shoes. Now I have seen people chase trout in all sorts of attire, but never in dress shoes!

In my many years of guiding, I have never had a client with as much heart as young Kenneth the engineer. Now I am praying, "Father, please give young Kenneth a fish." I pray. "Have mercy on him." "Your word shows that you favor fishermen, bless young Kenneth with a fish, I pray."

At this point he had missed several fish, some pulling his strike indicator several feet before he could set the hook. (hypothermia slows the reflexes) But Kenneth wouldn't give up. He had faith. I had been standing by his side for an hour and half at this time. We were long past the half day trip that we had planned when he finally set the hook in a real nice Rainbow. It fought valiantly pulling 20 ft of line from the reel on the hook set. Kenneth seemed perplexed that something could fight so hard in so little water. He finally got the fish turned and heading for the rock that he was perched on but it just wasn't meant to be. Approximately 15 foot from the net, with a powerful leap, he shook the hook... Oh No!


At this point the whole family is behind us on the bank, wanting to return to the warm cabin. Mom stated, "come on Kenneth, you can catch one the next time." Kenneth looked at me, his heart in his stomach and asked," if they returned to the cabin, will you take me back after I catch one? I really want to catch one". This pleading was heard by his family and they agreed to wait a little longer.

Several casts later Kenneth hooked into the nicest Rainbow of the day... in the 17-18 inch range. He gripped the rock with his fine dress shoes and fought the fish like a pro. I was so glad for him the moment it was cradled safely in my landing net. There were cheers from the bank and flashes from cameras. Kenneth had a smile from ear to ear. He looked as though he had been saved. Converted from engineer to fly fisherman.

Thank you Father, your mercy endures forever and Kenneth needed it.

After the photo session ended and the fish was returned to the stream Kenneth's dad was helping him to the bank from his perch on the rock. Once again off into the stream he slid, baptizing the shiny new dress shoes in the Nantahala River. But this didn't cause Kenneth faith to waver. On the walk back to the truck he asked me, "Can you fly fish in Florida?" "Are you kidding, Florida has one of the best salt water fly fisheries in the country along with good bass and blue gill fishing." To my surprise Kenneth then looked at his dad and said, "Dad, we play golf together and it's ok, but when we get home lets purchase some fly fishing equipment and start fishing together. It will be a good father-son thing for us to do and I love it."

Dad spent the rest of the walk inquiring of me about what equipment they would be needing for their new-found sport. After a complete description of the needed equipment, I laughed and said "buy junior some waders. They are cheaper than the dress shoes he has on and much warmer."

At the end of a long cold day I had converted three of the six tourists into fly fishermen. On a warmer day I am sure I could have saved them all. Maybe this is my calling.