
Scrolling through Google Maps in the Appalachians can be a little overstimulating for a fly fisher. Every valley, hollow, and mountain pass has a blue line of varying width running through it. Generally, every blue line will contain trout. The problem is that not every line contains enough trout to warrant a trip. Especially on the east coast, issues like mining, logging, and their harsh side-effects have ravaged rivers large and small. Remediation has restored some ecosystems, but not all of them.
There is a ritual: I stare at the map, wondering which blue line is worth exploring. Certainly, there are some no-brainers. The famous rivers that have flies, rods, or even shops named after them do have fish. They also have access, and people, and pressure from said people that just visited the aforementioned fly shop to buy the rod and flies named after the river. A stream like that might work if it is a Wednesday or there is a snowstorm, but not so much on a beautiful Sunday. Even the bigger mountain streams are a tough go if you are the second angler through.
Once the big-name rivers are off the table, then I consult guidebooks and state classification lists. “Blue-ribbon, class II, wild trout, delayed harvest on months that have 31 days,” or something to that effect, “from the border of forest service land to the stump with a skull and crossbones on it.” In my mind, rivers like this are hit or miss. They have lots of signs. Signs scream “fish!” Rural signs scream “come catch and eat these fish!” A trip into the woods could yield a full day of native brook trout, or it could lead to a skunk. Or it could result in a run in with bears, law enforcement, or mountain folk. (FYI: Of the three, I’d pick bears.)
Passing up the stars and B-listers means digging deep and casting a relatively unknown actor. These are the true blue lines. The tiny trickle that might be Pine Run, “or maybe Little Pine Run? Or something else entirely? There isn’t really a label once it gets up high and branches off a few times.” Creeks like these bestow an ample supply of bushwhacking street-cred. Your small stream, native trout bravado is legitimized by the amount of time you spend hiking away from roads, trails, and cell service. All you have is your map, your fly rod, and your sense of adventure (and the latest in high-tech / retro-chic gear, naturally).
But what if there was another world even deeper inside the rabbit hole of backroads, backwoods trout fishing? What is the new angling album that not even the indie-fishing hipsters know about?
Forget blue lining: this is no-lining.



Tenkara USA – How to Choose a Tenkara rod video







Teton Tenkara – Fly Fishing Books
