Trip down Virginia river was fun New experience
Fishing and hunting somewhere new is always an adventure. You don’t know what you’ll find until you get there. Last week, I wrote about smallmouth bass fishing on Virginia’s Maury River, someplace new to me. I had such a good time that I couldn’t pass up the chance to fish the state’s New River when the opportunity presented itself.
Actually, the New River is the oldest river on the American continent, second in the world only to the Nile River in Africa. At least that’s what Glenn Moorer told us as we readied the canoes on the river’s edge. Moorer is the Chief Ranger at Hungry Mother State Park, near the town of Marion. And Moorer was one of the main reasons our trip down the New came to be.
No one could tell me how old the New River is, nor could they tell me why it is called the New River if it is so old. But I can tell you that it begins in North Carolina and winds 160 miles to the Mississippi River.
After loading up our gear and donning our personal flotation devices (life jackets before the government got involved), we launched our canoes and made our way down the river, each of us eager to discover what lay ahead. There were eight of us in all, three outdoor writer types and five of the good folks from Virginia State Parks who had volunteered to guide us on the 6-mile trip down the old New.
Given the river’s reputation as one of Virginia’s premier fisheries, we were more than ready to cast our lines.
My companion for the day was Jared Vandergriff, a big, tow-headed 18-year-old with a soft-spoken style and a Southern drawl that’s easy on the ears. He grew up no more than 50 miles from our starting spot on the New. That he had been schooled in Southern etiquette was obvious by the way he answered my questions with a “Yes, sir!” or “No, sir!”
I was determined to catch my fish on a fly-rod, but getting used to casting from the canoe took a good while. Vandergriff, on the other hand, seemed to feel right at home in the canoe and started tossing a mini-tube into the water, likely looking for bass structure.
For the first mile or so, the river was deep and calm where the water backed up behind a low-head dam. No one in the group had success in the slow water, but Vandergriff assured me fishing would pick up once we made the portage around the dam.
Below the dam, a line of huge rocks ran perpendicular to the water’s flow. Vandergriff and the other locals made their way out among the rocks and began casting. Within minutes, Vandergriff pulled a smallmouth from a pool among the rocks, and some of the others followed suit. I went to work with my fly-rod but had nary a bite. When we were back in the canoe, Vandergriff reassured me plenty of fish were there and that I would hook up sooner than later.
As we worked our way down the river, our guides often would pull up alongside a large rock and step out of the canoe and onto the rock. After fishing the surrounding area, we would get back in the canoe and move on. Vandergriff had to reel in several fish while I flailed the water with various fly patterns and had no fish for my efforts.
After one of these rock stops, the canoe got hung up on the rock and didn’t come off. After trying unsuccessfully to free the canoe, I leaned over and pushed off the rock. But I didn’t realize Vandergriff was doing the same thing. The canoe listed hard to the right, and I could hear water rushing into the belly of the canoe.
We were toast. The canoe flipped, and the two of us were thrown into the river. So was my fly-rod.
Vandergriff was worried that my rod had gone the way of the earth. Just as I was ready to give up, Vandergriff disappeared under the water and came up with the rod in hand. That saved me a more than a few dollars, so how could I refuse when Vandergriff asked if he could try my fly-rod?
His casting technique wasn’t a thing of beauty, but then neither is mine. He cast a brown leech pattern into a pool among rocks and began stripping the line in. Strip. Strip. Wham. A smallie hammered the fly and soon was tail dancing across the water. First he tipped the canoe, almost losing my fly-rod, then he had the audacity to catch the only fish caught on that rod all day! Talk about pouring salt in the wound.
While I didn’t catch any fish that day on the New, we found plenty of adventure along the way. Vandergriff was a great sport, and the other guys all did well with their spinning rods. We saw beautiful country along the way, and I had no idea so many different shades of green existed.
Sometimes trying New things is good.
Doug Nielsen is an award-winning freelance writer and a conservation educator for the Nevada Department of Wildlife. His “In the Outdoors” column is published Thusday. He can be reached at doug@takinitoutside.com.