There's no consensus on why exactly the White Mountains are called the White Mountains. One theory is the granite that composes them, which is pale in color. That includes the white mountains. This is especially true in the places where water has gouged out the sides of these old mountains, leaving wide stream beds filled with light colored boulders. I don't think that's enough to call these mountains "white", but some people do. The streams that roll through this geology are cold and very clean, but they also lack nutrients. Granite doesn't lend much dissolved mineral wealth to water like limestone, sandstone, or even just sand or mud With low insect populations, and even lower baitfish populations, the trout that live in these streams don't have much to grow large on. Nor are they even particularly numerous. They are, however, beautiful wild fish that are often of the brook trout persuasion. And small fish have never been a massive dissuasion for me.
Picking my way up these rocky, inhospitable landscapes with a four weight in hand and nothing but dry flies to throw, I leave complexity behind in favor of hard work for small fish. In many of these streams since distribution is relatively low and most of the fish are really tiny, it takes sorting through a lot of water to find just a handful of brook trout that exceed 6 or 7 inches. Some days, or on some streams, you simply might never see one that makes that mark. Other streams are a bit more prolific. But to me, part of the appeal is covering ground and checking streams off the list in my head. It's glorified hiking, with casts between steps. Exercise with a fly rod. The fish aren't a bonus though, the sunday simply wouldn't be a sunday without the fish. I wouldn't cover so many miles of stream if there weren't at least some promise of fish.
As I progress as an angler, small stream wild trout fishing has become a much smaller part of the equation for me. A big part of this has been watching the decline in my home state. If you haven't blue-lined long, you probably haven't noticed it, but in the last 15 years I've seen it get so, so much worse, and it just feels wrong to continue to pursue fish that are under such immense strain. That means that pursuit which I love so much is now more relegated to when I can travel. That is a shame, because I do love it, but distance does make the heart grow fonder and perhaps I'd still be doing less of this type of fishing if I did live somewhere like Wyoming or Maine or West Virginia... I really can't say.
