Native Brook Trout Fishing is Stepping Back in Time

The dog days of summer often force me to turn my attention to native brook trout. What they lack in size, they make up for in spirit and beauty. As the water levels drop and the temperatures rise on the larger rivers, you can always count on these eager inhabitants of cold mountain streams to provide a fun day of fly fishing.

I recently returned from a week-long camping and hiking trip to New Hampshire with my son and family friends. The main purpose of our trip was to hike to the summit of Mount Washington via the famous Tuckerman Ravine Trail. The top of Mount Washington boasts the highest elevation in the Northeastern region of the United States. The hike was surely a once in a lifetime opportunity, but this trip also provided me with another type of challenge, dry fly fishing for native brook trout.

Where Brook Trout Water is Born

The hike up Mount Washington was a punishing journey that reminded me I have been spending too much time writing blog posts and not enough time getting in shape. My son handled the steep terrain with the ease of a mountain goat, while I slowly lumbered hundreds of yards behind, taking frequent breaks. Somehow, I survived the 4,000-foot climb. The breathtaking views along the trail distracted me from the pain in my legs as I incrementally ascended toward the summit. 

When I hiked above the tree line, I was awed by the beauty of the landscape. The last of the snowpack disappeared shortly before our mid-summer arrival, leaving behind rivulets of icy water descending rapidly down the mountain. This water would eventually form the native brook trout stream that flowed past our campsite. There were many times during the hike that I had wished I stayed back at camp and gone fishing instead.

Make the First Cast Count

With the big hike completed, I decided it was time to enjoy some less strenuous fly fishing for native brook trout. The cool New Hampshire air was a welcome relief from the mid summer temperatures back home in Pennsylvania. Each morning, hours before my teenage son would even start to stir, I would quietly leave our tent, grab my 6 ½ foot 2 weight rod and follow the trail paralleling the tiny stream flowing just feet from where we slept. 

I could barely keep myself from stopping at every pool along the way. But I knew it was best to hike as far downstream as I could and keep my distance as I fished all the way back up to our campsite. Never once did I consider tying on a nymph. I didn’t even think about a dry dropper, as I was strictly focused on dry fly fishing. With the juiciest looking dry in my box tied to my tippet, I would cast as far upstream as my surroundings would allow. I was not nearly as concerned with the selection of my fly, as I was with its presentation. Often, I had to make the first cast count. One false move would scatter countless tiny brookies, darting every which way to their favorite hiding spots.

The Spectacle of a Native Brook Trout

There is nothing quite like the spectacle of a native brook trout. They are truly magnificent. My friend, a non-angler, who accompanied us on our trip couldn’t understand the allure of catching such tiny fish. Though he wasn’t thoroughly convinced, it did seem to resonate with him when I explained that brook trout are the only native trout species in the northeast region of the United States. There is something so pure about knowing that these fish are indigenous to the stream. I explained that as much as I love catching wild brown trout, they were introduced to North America from Europe. Not that any of us are complaining about their presence, but wild brown trout are technically an invasive species. So having the chance to catch the same fish that lived in our own waters thousands of years ago makes it special.

I also tried to explain that regardless of the size of the brook trout, I still had to do everything right to get one to eat my fly. My approach had to be stealthy. Each cast had to be accurate, and the presentation of the fly had to be delicate. Though brook trout have voracious appetites, the smallest of infractions will cause them to spook. Everything and more that I would have to do to catch a wild Central Pennsylvania brown trout goes into catching a four-inch native brookie.

The Beauty of a Brook Trout Stream

It’s hard to decide what is more beautiful, the brook trout themselves, or streams in which they live. As brook trout often live in remote, high elevation streams, the beauty and tranquility that comes with fishing for them is unmatched. I fished nearly every morning of our trip and never once saw another angler. Each twist and turn of the stream presents a new opportunity to cast a dry fly into a placid pool, where, undoubtedly, an eager, yet wiley, native brook trout awaits.

Fishing for native brook trout is like stepping back in time. It provides a unique opportunity to fish waters that have not been altered. The surroundings remain as they did thousands of years ago. The brook trout are not pressured or pestered by anglers day after day. Despite their diminutive stature, native brook trout command respect. I treasure each one I catch. They are relics of the past and serve as a reminder of what we want to protect in the future.

Thanks for reading! Spend more time on the water!

Have a great day!

Jeff Smecker

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