Rose River Farm

My first fish of 2014 came in mid January. While I didn’t have to work for it, I had to pay for it… $95 to be exact. A new year brings new goals. It allows us a time to reflect on our past shortcomings and successes and apply knowledge accumulated and lessons learned towards shaping the future. For two years, I volunteered at Casting for Recovery’s annual 2Fly4Hope event on Rose River Farm. For two years I sat on the bank and watched even the most inexperienced fisherman catch big trout after big trout. I had had enough, I paid the $95 fee for a day on the farm.  It was, as expected, a fish frenzy. Every riffle or pool that would appear to hold a fish held multiple fish. Fish that were more than willing to eat. After countless 16” bows, I had satisfied the need to catch fish and I swapped my 5wt for my 2wt and my battle tested nymphs for unproven ones.

Douglas Dear, who owns and operates the farm takes great pride and care in this fishery and it is reflected in the population of healthy trout. As much as I hate paying to fish, I didn’t so much mind the money going to Rose River Farm. Every year, they donate several days on their fishery to Project Healing Waters and Casting for Recovery. Two quality organizations with the shared belief that fly-fishing has healing potential.

Apart from a great blue heron trying to steal the fish I was fighting, I couldn’t have asked for a better day on the water. The Rose River Farm itch has been scratched. I can rest now.

Shenandoah River

After bidding a temporary farewell to the pristine brook trout laden streams of Shenandoah National Park, I entered stage two of a fisherman’s weekend. The Shenandoah River meanders patiently through the Shenandoah Valley and is home to many species of fish, smallmouth bass being one of them. Outfitted with a kayak, I approached her banks. The river was flowing well, fed by recent rains and only slightly off-color. Perfect conditions. After a few sloppy casts sending heavy flies whizzing past my head I adjusted to the heavier rod without serious bodily injury. I began by throwing a chartreuse CK baitfish which fooled a fish on the third cast. The fish were active and continued to hammer the baitfish pattern all day. While the fishing was consistently good all day, it was incredible in the late afternoon. Recognizing this bite surge, I docked my kayak opting to wade fish and cover the water more thoroughly. Standing in the middle of the river, I was hooking fish on every other cast 360 degrees around me when I noticed a shadow appear out of the glare. I cast my baitfish a few feet upstream of the shadow before slowly stripping it back. The bright color and large profile of the chartreuse baitifsh was easy to follow with my eyes until it disappeared, engulfed in shadow. I set the hook hoping my eyes had not deceived me. Immediately, the line tightened under tension of a large smallmouth quickly followed by the stomach churning slack as the fish raced directly towards me. Stripping line like a mad man, I recovered the slack and put the fish on the reel. After several line ripping runs and inspired jumps, the fish exhausted itself and I had my personal record of a smallmouth. The afternoon blitz seemed to defy time, but the sun had gone down behind the mountains and darkness approached. I paddled the remaining two miles, content without throwing another cast. Tired and smiling, I loaded up my kayak at last light and returned to the city to begin planning the next adventure.

Shenandoah National Park

As seasons change, only fond memories of summer remain. Of these, Shenandoah National Park shines like a gem. The opportunity to pair backpacking with fishing is always a treat and Shenandoah National Park is a gracious host to the willing adventurer. With over 70 streams teeming with wild trout, choosing which trail to follow is a difficult decision. This time, I chose Jeremy's Run. I picked up a backcountry permit (which are free) from the ranger station and was on my way. The park rangers require some detail of your hiking plans as a precautionary measure incase the unplanned happens, like getting lost or getting into a fight with a black bear over trout. After a final check of my gear, I began hiking. The trail slowly descends a fern covered hillside shaded beneath a canopy of trees before connecting to stream in the valley. With trout on my mind, I quickly scouted out a campsite and dumped my pack, then began fishing. Sporadic hatches of everything from golden stones to sulphers to caddis throughout the day had the fish voraciously feeding on anything and everything. I fished two flies the entire day, only switching from my Royal Wulff to a stimulator because the first fly became so saturated with water,  and refused to float. It was one of those days where you quickly lose count of fish caught and even ballpark estimates seem hazy. A Shenandoah personal best 13” brookie highlighted the day and after a quick internal debate on whether or not to keep the fish, I decided to release it back to its home. A wild fish that size in such a small stream deserves to live and besides, I didn’t need any extra attention from some roaming black bear.

    Back at camp I threw a few more casts in the dwindling light before making the necessary preparations for the night: boil water for tomorrow’s drinking (I need to invest in a pump), hang food in tree, set up tent...what tent? Oh yeah, I decided not to bring one. The weather looked fine and I had opted for the lighter no tent option. I still had my trusty Tyvek for a ground cloth, so all was good, except for those weird looking bugs that kept on invading my personal space. After an hour of frantically flicking away wandering insects and shining my headlamp at every rustling leaf in nearby bushes, I finally drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

    At daybreak, I packed up my gear, leaving no trace (Boy Scouts taught me well) then departed for the second half of a fishy weekend. I made it back to the car around 8:30am where my kayak awaited me patiently. A short drive and 30 minutes later, I exchanged my 6ft 2wt rod for a 9ft 6wt and was ready to float down the Shenandoah River.