Annual Adventure
What makes a fishing trip? Is it the pursuit of a new species? Is it the time and research you put into it? Maybe it’s the people we fish with, the memories we get to make while out on the water. Every summer I make an annual pilgrimage to fish with my uncle in northern Virginia. There, we pursue native Brook trout high amongst the mountains in and around Shenandoah National Park or we float in belly boats along the aquatic highway of the region, the James River, while trying to catch scrappy Smallmouth bass. Either way, fishing these waters with my uncle, a preeminent outdoorsman, is special. Every year we see amazing wildlife, we share stories of fishing and traveling, and in general we just have a good time being on the water together. Are the fish themselves secondary? Sometimes, even to an addicted angler like me, yes (well, maybe).
My trip began this year weeks before I piled in the Jeep for my drive up North. I put in hours of research looking for new species and locations I can fish for while in transit to and from Virginia. As I have said before, my competition with my best friend to catch new species is an ongoing challenge to me to travel and push myself further. Anyways, there’s a species of fish known as a Roanoke bass that is scattered in a few drainages near the North Carolina and Virginia border. I’ve heard of them before, am vaguely familiar with their habits and just so happened to be driving near enough to their native range that I figured they could be worth a quick side trip on my journey. My research put me outside of Durham at Eno River State Park. On Friday night much later than I’d hoped, I found myself finally hiking streamside at about 8:15 PM. Cicadas and frogs sang their songs as darkness quickly fell in the river valley and I set foot in the bathwater-like river. I was fishing a stretch of the Eno known to families and hikers as a pleasant place to escape the summer heat and the nearby city. I had about 45 minutes of twilight to try and catch a Roanoke bass. I fished a small green popper in hopes that I could quickly work a pool and then move on to other spots if I proved unsuccessful. Every three to four casts my Boogle bug would be sucked under by attacking fish of various, and unhoped for, species. Pursuing sunfish in small streams and rivers is an excellent experience that all fly fishermen should occasionally participate in and you should expect to run into many different species. Good and bad casts alike are frequently rewarded with voracious Redbreast, Green and Longear sunfish besides the ever ubiquitous Bluegill. However, despite my apparent luck with myriad other species, I couldn’t find my intended target in the rocks of the shallow river. As the mosquitoes increased in intensity and the light disappeared from the skies, I made my way back to my Wrangler.
Just a few short hours later, UC, his yellow lab Argos, and I made for the mountains to find some Brookies! Though our normal spot was completely inundated with hikers and families, we quickly found our way up some overgrown roads on the edge of Shenandoah National Park. My uncle hadn’t fished this creek in many years and I think this trip rekindled old memories that he and his friends had experienced here years ago. That distant feeling of nostalgia is often at the root of our fishing trips together. In many ways, our trips mirror those from his youth while continuing through me an outdoors tradition that far precedes either one of us. The fishing itself was honestly subpar. Low and clear water made for spooky fish and this creek obviously doesn’t support the same kind of population as the first stream we had hoped to fish. No matter, we caught some Brookies, chubs and dace and had a good time just being together in the wilderness after a long year. A black foam ant proved to be my most effective fly of the day followed by various caddis and mayfly nymphs. The highlight of my day came when a large Barred owl landed in a tree just upstream of me. We made eye contact and after a moment, my large feathered friend flew off to a more distant and secluded tree.
On our second full day we floated the mighty James river in belly boats. If you have never floated and fished a large river from a belly boat, I would absolutely encourage you to try it sometime. Being so low in the water gives you a unique perspective on your surroundings and in the heat of summer the cool water feels fantastic to lazily float in. I think for UC, this is the quintessential day of our trip. We typically put in the belly boats in mid-morning and, depending on the water levels, float at least until late afternoon. This year with river gauges indicating 3.9 feet, we floated from between 10:30 to 6:00. Like last year on this same stretch, fishing was slower than we expected. certainly high summer temperatures played a part but we still expected to connect with more fish than we actually did. I landed seven Smallmouth with my best going some 12 1/2 inches or so. I fished tandem streamers but the most effective fly was easily a craw colored woolly bugger. My uncle, fishing spinning tackle, used some Yamamoto grubs and white swimming worms to connect with a couple of Smallies and the biggest of our trip, a 14 incher. Not all days are about the fishing, that’s at least what we tell ourselves when the fishing isn’t so great! From a wildlife perspective, we had a much more successful day having seen a black bear cub, three bald eagles and a muskrat that was near enough for me to touch! Argos, proved himself to be a stunningly proficient swimmer and crisscrossed the river a few dozen times while helping us poor anglers look for fish!
After briefly visiting my Grandfather in Richmond, I began the long drive back home. As opposed to the drive up where I suffered from sweltering heat, this time I got to watch over my windshield as the far reaching arms of hurricane Isaias gradually intercepted my path. By the time I reached Durham, NC I had driven through a deluge for more than an hour. I wasn’t hopeful but I did decide to stop by the Eno to see if I could earn some redemption from the first night’s failure. This time I opted to fish about a mile upstream from where I tried earlier. I feared the worst but the water level and clarity was perfect and I instantly had some good confidence for the fishing. I was fishing a small stream fly called a “Bearded Dragon” and tied by my friends over at Blue Line Flies. Within minutes I caught a white crappie, a Redbreast and a Green sunfish. I came to a long pool about 2 feet deep with some great rocky structure and the promise of some hiding fish. First cast I made was directly over a little boulder garden that had some overhanging ledges. Suddenly, a quick flash of green and a tension on my line told me I may have finally hooked my intended quarry! The fight was noticeably better than all the other fish I’d been catching and, as I had on 4x tippet, I couldn’t horse this fish in without giving it line when it decided to pull back. After a 45 second fight I finally landed my first ever Roanoke bass, a handsome 10 1/2 inches or so! From what i’ve heard, this is an above average Roanoke so i’m even happier with it than I would be otherwise. I decided to fish for a few more minutes as my confidence was so high. Just five minutes later I landed another Roanoke! Just a 5 incher this time but it proves the first wasn’t necessarily a fluke. As the skies darkened and threatened to burst, I jogged back to the Jeep reveling in my success. What makes a fishing trip? Get out there and decide for yourself
