Virginia Chapter

Bob is an ichthyologist at Roanoke College who specializes in non-game fish. He has spent extensive time studying a fish called the Roanoke Bass. It looks a lot like a Rock Bass to me, but it is a unique species of fish that lives only in a couple of different watersheds located in Virginia and North Carolina. This is the fish we decided to pursue. Because we both like to fly fish we decided to pursue these fish with fly rods. We speculated that we might not be the first fishermen to catch Roanoke Bass on fly rods, but we are probably the first fishermen to actually pursue them with fly rods.

During the drive to Town Creek, on June 9, 1991, near where it flows into the cold Smith River tailwater about three miles below Philpott Dam, we talked about fish species and subspecies. Bob pointed out a place where a semi-truck driver couldn't manage the bend in the road. Bob said he doesn't like fishing for stocked fish.

I said, “You are going to fish for Brown Trout which are not native to the Smith River.”

And Bob corrected me, “I'm talking about wild fish, not native fish.” He proceeded to explain that when a stocked fish has reproduced in a watershed future generations are called wild.

I told Bob my theory that, “Fishing for stocked fish is just another version of playing a state lottery.”

At some point on the drive we both commented about how pretty the trip is, without much advertising signs. We also talked a lot about fish and about my fishing project.

After driving up to the bridge over the Smith River to watch rising trout, we headed back downstream to where warm Town Creek empties into the river and we parked next to the railroad tracks where a white goose hangs out. While being scolded by the goose for being there we put on our waders and headed up Town Creek with our fly rods.

I started fishing not very far from where the creek and the river converge. Bob walked farther up the creek and he was soon out of sight around the bend in the creek. I fished a small fly that looked like a mosquito carrying a hook. Soon I caught a small Chub, which I photographed. Then came a Redbreast Sunfish, the fish that had eluded me in South Carolina. It was only four or five inches long, but almost any fish is fun to catch on a fly rod. Then I caught a fish that looked like a Rock Bass only it was a little sleeker and pale-spotted. I thought it was a Roanoke Bass, but I wasn't sure so I also photographed it.

I went back to the pickup truck and traded my fly rod for my ultralite, a hook, a float and some worms. I was soon catching or nearly catching lots of crayfish. I had just put one of the crayfish on my hook and was trying to catch a Smallmouth Bass when I noticed Bob slowly walking toward me dragging a fish that was on end of his line. When he was close enough to show me he said, “This is a Roanoke Bass.”

I said “I caught one just like it.”

Seeing I was now fishing with a ultralite he said, “I caught mine on a fly rod.”

I told him, “So did I.”

Bob unhooked the fish to release it, but it was apparently too worn out to swim right away and hung out by Bob's leg for several minutes before slowly swimming back upstream.

Bob walked down to the Smith River and started fishing for wild Brown Trout.

I spent the next couple hours watching Bob fish, photographing the Smith and teasing the goose back by my vehicle. When a train went by the goose tried to intimidate it. Several times it ran toward the train stopping just shy of the tracks and backing off.

I also cried while I sat in my pickup because this fishing project was supposed to be financed by art sales to contacts I make during my travels. The economy has turned sour and the sales are not happening and it is looking like I might not have the money to finish this project.

On the way back to Bob's place he asked how I thought we did. I told him “I'm happy with the results. I caught the targeted species and a chub that I've never caught before.”

Bob said, “I think we did incredibly well. Not only did we catch a Roanoke, I caught and released several Brown Trout.“

Bob was ecstatic, “I love those trout. %&*# love those trout. I love seeing them rising on the river. And if I can fish and watch them at the same time it is even better. If you spend a day on the Smith and catch five or six Browns it's a good day. Even when they are rising like that they're hard to catch.”

After a short break he continued, “I actually caught a Roanoke Bass on a fly rod. Geez! I actually did.”

Trying to be funny I said, “Of course we don't know who caught one first.”

Bob said “No! We don't.”

I continued the joke, “Well I know yours was bigger, so I should get credit for catching the first and you can have credit for the biggest. Do they get much bigger than that?”

“Oh yeah. Two and a half pounds is the state record. I would guess they get to three or four pounds. Right there in that stream too.”

After another pause he continued, “You missed the hatch.”

“I thought about going up to the bridge to see it, but thought you might come up to the vehicle and wonder where I'd gone.”

“The hatch doesn't happen up there, because the conditions aren't right--water's too cold for one thing. It starts where warm Town Creek empties into the Smith. The creek puts nutrients in the river and makes conditions right. That's where the mayflies are; from Town Creek down.

After a pause Bob said, “Even though the trout on average aren't giants that's one hell of a stream.”

We talked more about my fishing project, “I'm trying to find a person in Kentucky who is named Kenneth Tucky. Then I'm going to see if Kentucky Bass live in Kentucky Lake and if so I'm going to see if I can fish in the state of Kentucky for Kentucky Bass in Kentucky Lake with Ken Tucky.”

After a little laugh Bob told me Kentucky Bass is a local common name for a fish, “You're perpetuating a misnomer. The correct name is the Spotted Bass which occurs pretty much throughout the Mississippi River Basin.”

I asked, “What else is it called? Maybe I know it by some other name.”

“I don't know of any,” said Bob, “You're dealing with all these common names and when you write your book I won't know what the hell fish you caught.”

“Oh you'll know.”

“Different fish have different common names in different places and if you're giving a common name I won't know what the hell you're talking about. The American Fisheries Society has a list of fishes listed by the most used common names and the scientific names. You should use that list, additional to local names.”

“I had a beautiful evening on the Smith River. When those mayflies started hatching, trout started rising and four geese flew over. Then a Great Blue Heron landed by the pool where I caught my last trout. The Heron was fishing the tail of the pool and I was fishing the head.”

On the way back to Bob's house we talked about our day of fishing, about music, mostly his favorite, The Grateful Dead, about my fishing project and about my art career.

We stopped at a restaurant on the way to Bob's house and we talked about the book I co-authored with Bud Berglund called “Hook, Line and Shelter” and Bob talked about the book he was co-authoring with Noel Burkhead called “Freshwater Fishes of Virginia.” He said its manuscript currently is at about 2500 pages, but it will be edited down somewhat and set in a smaller font before it is published.

We were almost through eating when Bob said, “I think fly fishing is an art; good flies and well made casts.”

I thought, “How can you disagree with that?” And then said, “Speaking of well made flies, I read an article recently in West Virginia Magazine by a woman who designed flies to catch Carp.”

“Yeah” Bob said, “They are made to look like Mulberries and used in the Mulberry season.”

I continued, “This woman ties flies that look like popcorn. Can you imagine having a Carp on a fly rod? How cool that would be.”

Bob said, “Every time I've encountered Carp when I've been fishing, as soon as the fly hits the water they turn, they bolt, they're gone. They are pretty leery animals. They survive in city ponds where thousands of kids fish. According to Hank Norton, the Dean of the Smith, hooking a Carp is like tying your leader to the back of a pickup truck that's taking off.”

I told him, “One year on opening day... we have seasons in Minnesota when you can fish and seasons when you can't fish... I was fishing for Bass and Northern Pike below a dam and I hooked into the tail of a four or five pound Carp. This was with my ultralite and it took me at least a half hour to land it.”

“Sure. The reason the season probably ends is so that the fishermen don't get hypothermia”, he joked.

When we arrived at Bob's house, we listened to a couple of his hundreds of bootleg Grateful Dead concert tapes. Bob is a neo-Deadhead since 1987 and has been to several live Grateful Dead concerts.

In the morning Bob fixed breakfast as we listened to more Grateful Dead concerts and he talked more about fishing, “I'm a specialist. I only fly fish. I only fish for Brown Trout and only in a three-mile range of the Smith River. My friend Hank Norton says I can fish for the same fish for hours.”

After breakfast we each told the other how much we appreciated the other's company and the opportunity to go fishing and I headed out for another day of driving.

I've been in contact with Bob since and his book has been published after being reduced to about 1100 pages and he has found a couple other places to fly fish for Brown trout that are much closer to where he lives. He has also identified from my photographs one fish that I caught as a Bluehead Chub and the other as our targeted species, the Roanoke Bass.