It was fall in the foothills. It was dry and clear and the sweet-cool of the morning refreshed you. Cool, but not cold. A good fall day. I'd loaded up the canoe from the coast and headed west to the in-laws' place, on the banks of the Yadkin River, outside of Winston-Salem. There's something about a smallmouth bass on a fly rod. Maybe it's the strength of the fish, the strength of their pull against the current. Or maybe it's because they're the fish that really taught me about fly fishing. My original fly fishing quarry. In all honesty, smallmouth caught me, not the other way around, back on the banks of Rapidan River in Virginia. I've been hooked ever since. I met a man once, while trout fishing in the mountains, who claimed the Yadkin held the best smallie fishing in North Carolina. Better than the New River, even the French Broad. Maybe not in numbers, but in size. I'll be honest, I...