Tailwater Troubles: How a Good Day of Fishing Can Turn Real Bad

That's a pretty tailwater you got there. Be a shame if it turned into a death trap today...

This past weekend, I headed out to my local tailwater to put some of the things I learned in the Smokies last weekend to use. It was mostly a good half day of fishing, but the dam started dumping water early, and I almost got swept. Let's get the good stuff out of the way, because I want to talk a good bit about the bad. As promised when I started writing this blog, you're going to read about my failures just as much as my successes.

The Good

The fishing was slow, which was fine. My goal this morning was to spot good water, position myself well, and not make reckless casts. It's still taking me some time to get acclimated to new water, but I am getting faster. I spotted a particularly good run and hooked up on a decent fish, but struggled to get my net out a little too long and the fish shook the hook right at the net. Thinking I might bring my shorter handled net out next time and see if that works better. About 30 minutes later, I got this little guppy.

It was almost worth it.

The Bad

Fishing a tailwater is a little different from fishing a free-flowing river. A tailwater is a section of river that is downstream of a dam. That dam releases water on a (mostly) scheduled basis, but that schedule can be changed at the last minute. Most of the authorities that operate dams in the United States publish a water release schedule, and either the authority or the community will publish a timetable of how long it takes the water released from the dam to reach certain access points. These schedules dictate when you can fish and for how long. Some tailwaters have warning systems at the access points, some do not.

If you are caught off-guard by a water release on a tailwater, it is bad news bears. Water levels creep upwards slowly at first, but increase at an exponential rate as the water gets closer. Water flows also increase quickly. As the water increases, so does the fishing activity, with trout going into a feeding frenzy on all the food sources knocked loose, serving as a distraction. Obstacles become submerged and remove the visual queues like riffles that indicate faster moving water. The more water you encounter, the harder it is to move.

Summed up: The increase in water is difficult to notice at first, but increases at an exponential rate. The more the water rises, the faster it rises, and the slower you are able to move to safety.

If you are unable to get to safety, your troubles will compound. The water will begin to push you at your legs, pushing you off balance with each step. This will get worse the higher the water gets. When it reaches your torso, it will be very difficult to keep your footing, even when remaining stationary. Once it reaches your midsection, your waders are going to take on water, which will at the very least cause you to lose footing and possibly submerge you. If don't have a wading belt, you will sink. The gear that is attached to you will tangle and make swimming incredibly difficult. You could be swept against or pinned to any obstacles in the river. I think I'll stop here.

So let's talk about what happened with me. I woke up, re-checked the schedules, saw they were unchanged and headed to the river. The access point I was fishing was several miles from the dam, and the water would take 8.5 hours to get there. I had from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. to fish (giving myself a half-hour buffer). I wanted to explore a bit further from the parking lot, so I walked a bit upstream before entering, then slowly began making my way across the river, fishing as I went. Maybe a bit too slowly. By the time I got across the river, it was around noon or so and I hooked into the decent fish that shook my hook. I found a rock that gave me a good sightline on several good areas of water. At 12:30 p.m., I caught the guppy. A few minutes later, I looked down and saw that the water was about even with the top of the rock I was on. I looked around and saw that all the rocks, logs, and other obstacles were underwater or close to it.

The water was just above my knees, and I thought I might be able to cross. It only took a few steps to realize that wasn't going to work. I was immediately in water that was at my waist. I began to walk forward toward a shoal, thinking I could use rocks as something to break up the water, as well as a more secure foothold. As I hit deeper sections, the current forced the water up to my mid-chest and almost over the top of my waders. I made it to the shoal, scrambled up on the rocks, and started making my way to the bank. Even with the rocks, it was extremely difficult to move across them, with the water pushing my feet around with each step I took.

I made it out of the water, crawled up the steep embankment, and collapsed on the ground, nearly spent of energy. I called my wife, let her know what had happened, shared my phone's location with her, and told her I would be walking back to my car through some private property. I ended up walking about 3 miles back to the car, which gave me a lot of time to think about where things went wrong.

I checked the schedules, gave myself a time buffer to get out safely; what else could I have done? Well, something that I knew to do, but didn't. I should have designated an exposed rock, log, or other obstacle as a reference point for the water level, and checked it regularly. Let's go back to the first picture I took that morning.

Rocks serve as gauges for water level. If you start seeing these getting smaller, time to get out.

I should have been checking these rocks every 10-15 minutes as I made my way around the river. The minute I saw them getting smaller, I needed to stop fishing and make my way back to the car. No more last casts. These rocks were my canaries in the coal mine. I didn't check on them until they were already gone, and as a result, almost got seriously injuried or worse.

So what helped in this scenario?

1) Physical Fitness

Several months before I got back into fishing, I started ramping up my daily physical activity with some mobility, strength training, and low level cardio. Whether it's your local tailwater, or mountain streams, fly fishing for trout takes you to places that are often off the beaten path. At the very least, you're dealing with slippery rocks and moving water. Every morning, stretch a little, do a couple sets of situps, push-ups, and squats, and go for a walk once a day.

2) Wading Belt

Many waders come with a wading belt that is made of a stretchy, neoprene material. When it comes to keeping water out of your waders, these are borderline worthless. A proper wading belt needs to have no stretch, and you should be able to cinch it tightly around your waist. My biggest concern was my waders filling up with water. By having two wading belts (one nylon to cinch the waders), and a larger belt that is part of my Fishpond Switchback hip pack, I was able to move more confidently to safety when the water was rising with every step.

3) Wading Staff

"Two is one, and one is none." A wading staff gives you two solid feet to stand on. You don't need a fancy one; I got mine for about $20, and a good retractor for it for $25. My wading staff allowed me to test the depth of the middle of the river before attempting to cross. If I hadn't been able to do so, I probably would've lost my footing or continued my attempt to cross. I was also able to use the staff to brace myself and move more quickly to the shoal rocks, and along the rocks to safety.

Tailwater fishing can be a lot of fun. You usually don't have to go too far from civilization, the fish are challenging to catch, and the ones you do catch tend to be pretty big (current catch notwithstanding). But it is also important to recognize them for what they are. Tailwaters can be highly variable and unpredictable with their flows, and anglers must take necessary precautions to ensure their safety on the water.