A pink woolly bugger. I can't believe I'm throwing a pink woolly bugger. And it's not just pink. It's HOT pinkwith red sparkle ribbingand crystal flashing in the tail. Someone shrank a child's fairy princess costume down to fit a size 8 hook and I'm trying to fool a fish with it. Pink. Perhaps I should go add some nice accent lace to my waders and trade in my floppy fishing hat for a glittery tiara. Heaven help me, I'm throwing a pink woolly bugger.

It all started innocently enough. Mike P. and I headed out to Ashe County for a couple days of mid-week floating and wading the south fork of the New River in pursuit of smallmouth bass. Our departure from the Triangle coincided with the arrival of a cool front from the west so we drove for the first couple hours in a constant downpour, prompting concerns about what water conditions we would find when we arrived in the mountains. Fortunately, the rain drizzled out about Winston-Salem and had apparently passed around the Deep Gap area for the water we found was clear, almost too clear, and at a very manageable level. We dropped our bags and gear at Mike's cabin overlooking the New, a homey little cottage, perfect for anchoring our fishing excursion, and headed out for the closest fly shop, River Girl Fishing Company.

River Girl is actually Kelly McCoy, a fish biologist-turned outfitter/fly fishing guru, who once almost fished with Lefty Kreh (she had to work and couldn't accept his invitation) and who now owns and operates her outdoor adventures facility out of the old railroad station building in the middle of Todd, NC. If you're anywhere in Todd, you're pretty much in the middle of it. We found River Girl, seven months pregnant, surrounded by tubes, kayaks, canoes, bikes, a couple of goats, a wide variety of small, happy dogs, and a very content pot-bellied pig. We chitchatted about the weather and our recent travels, arranged a float drop-off for the next day, and then asked the eternal question, What were they biting on? Without cracking a smile, River Girl replied, pink woolly buggers. Yes, pink wooly buggers. She pointed to her fly selection and there they were, a small sparkly pile amid the Elk Hair Cadis and Adams Parachutes. Now all I could think was that this was how she had her fun; selling us greenhorn flatlanders these fruity, fluffy concoctions while belly laughing inside. But she was insistent (and belly laughing at seven months probably wasn't very comfortable), so I grabbed a few of the frilly things, making sure to also take a few olive ones to assure her, or myself, that I was indeed a serious fisherman. After a quick see you tomorrow, we headed back to the cabin to get a little afternoon time on the river.

On the way out of town, we made a quick stop for a bite to eat at the Todd General Store where we found the proprietor lying motionless on a bench with a lighted candle sticking through a paper plate and into his ear. Something about fending off colds and extracting earwax, though it seemed to me that the process was going in the other direction. But Mike and I figured that in the land of pink woollies this must not be odd behavior so we wandered about the store until the treatment was complete. Once fixed, our storeowner made us up a couple of Rueben sandwiches, discussed the merits of catfish angling by hand, Florida scuba diving, and the Philadelphia mafia, and sent us on our way. We definitely weren't in Kansas any more, Toto.

We finally dropped our float tubes into the River about ¾ of a mile above Mike's cabin, next to the old single lane, side rail-less bridge, currently being upgraded to modern 19th century standards. The road workers no doubt chuckled as the two of us waddled down to the river and dropped into our floats, looking like two wobbly ugly humpty-ducklings. (Thank goodness they were too far away to see the pink woolly I had tied on.) They didn't chuckle long, though, as with my second cast I nabbed a fish. It was only a seven or eight-inch junk chub, but our fishing prowess was established and the workers turned back to their bridge. Thankfully, I was around the bend quickly and out of sight before I caught my first tree of the day.

We continued down the river, Mike casting a number of patterns and while I stuck with the pink princess, an approach that made more sense as I hooked a 12ish inch smallmouth, fought him home, only to lose him in his final shake coming alongside the float tube. In the next couple of hours that we traversed the stretch, I brought in a handful of chubs and few pumpkinseeds and a couple of fingerling smallies. It wasn't a great start but the near miss of the heftier bass suggested potential over the next couple of days. Maybe there was something to this pink thing.

We finished the day with a quick trip to Boone for dinner, a grocery trip for important staples (beer and some pastries for breakfasts), and a lazy hour stretched out at the cabin reading. I got lost in John Gierach's Sex, Death and Fly Fishing and fervently wish that I could write, and fish, like him. Ultimately, my sleeping bag, tossed on an unmade bed, felt like heaven and I drifted off to sleep listening to the drops falling on the cabin roof from the trees overhead and thinking about the smallies waiting down below in the New.

Sep

Note: I'm new to the forum and look forward to participating. By way of introduction, I post the above that I wrote on my local fly fishing club's discussion. It might be a little light on the actual fishing, but I think the whole process is what makes fishing the joy that it is. Hope you find it amusing.

to the forums.  Good story sounds like you had some fun with your pink wooly. ;D

In all honesty I see a pink woolly working around here, I use a white one and black one most of the time.

My uncle lives in Albemarle,NC  I always go fishing at Lake Tillery, I have a blast every time I'm down there.

Welcome to the forum!

Great story - and heck, whatever gets 'em to bite!  I have some big pink spinnerbaits with pink blades, but it really makes those smallies mad sometimes!

Neat story! I live in Boone while I attend ASU. I have worked in Todd before. I thought my 1 stoplight town back home was small until I went to "downtown Todd."

Welcome by the way! Look forward to hearing more from you!

My son just graduated from ASU.  Hate to see him finish (well, not really) 'cause it gave me an excuse to go visit and get a little fishing in on the way.

And a good buddy says the pink works because when the fish have a lot of food to choose from, once you get the type and size figured out, it may take a crazy color to grab their attention to your particular morsel.  Makes sense to me.

Hey, Sep, official welcome!

Didn't realize in our IM's you were new to the forum.  Welcome again, you will love it here.

Love the article you wrote.  I agree, "the whole process is what makes fishing the joy that it is".  I enjoy the preparation, getting there and fishing.  Only part I don't like is having to stop.

Eddie

sheesh, are you a writer or a fisherman?  

I know a few who would say I'm not much of either....

sheesh, are you a writer or a fisherman?

Nice story but, a PINK WOOLEY BOOGERS ? Ol' Jim will not use one,LOL. Try some deer hair streamers tied on a 1/0 dyed greenish brown and tip them with a scant tad of chartruese. Tie them a little long as well. Good luck and wecome aboard.

P.S.- I did see some pink wooley boogers after polishing off one too many taste of the Makers Mark around the campfire one evening.