An Adams leads a Brookie to hand on the Hazel River
James and I headed out for Jeremy's Run this morning and were thwarted in our efforts to find a parking place or trail head in the 340 corridor, I suspect that the best and easiest access may be from Skyline drive. After looking at our options and and itching to get on the water we decided to scoot through Thornton Gap, head through Sperryville and try our luck on the Hazel River. The air was crisp at 43 degrees and the wind was pulling at the remaining leaves on the oak trees when we stepped onto the hiker trail heading up the side of the Hazel. The water was still running high from the weeks drenching rain. As we walked I looked at the stream and figured that we could still fish about 40% of the normally fishable water, high but still worth the trip. We had to work for our brookies today as they hugged the bottom to keep out of the rain swelled current. I enjoyed fishing with my 1-wt as it loads with only a leader and worked well for the very technical fishing called for today.
Oak trees hold dear to their last remaining leaves
The older I get the more I realize I don't know. I do know that I've had my eye on Laurel Fork in Highland County Virginia for several years. This area, oft described by nutty folk like me as heaven on earth, first came to my attention as Scott and I headed west to link up with a friend in Marlington, WVA for another adventure.
This pristine area of ridges and valleys is home to the headwaters of the Jackson, Cowpasture, Bullpasture and North Fork of the South Branch of the Potomac. In one valley nestled into the VA-WVA border forest is the Laurel Fork Special Management Area about 15-miles north of Monterey, VA if you look at it on a map and can fly like a crow.
This is high country for the East Coast, just east of the Eastern Continental Divide, Spruce Knob at 4863' the highest point in WVA is just north-west and the elevation of my camp was 3,000 feet. The stream itself gets its name from the rhododendron bushes (mountain laurel), that line its banks. As I unpacked my sleeping bag at Locust Grove Camp Ground the insistent wind, crisp air and star filed sky zipped my sleeping bag up to my chin.
lighting the way down the trail
standing watch above Buck Run Trail
Laurel Fork meanders southwest to northeast picking up volume as it runs north. If you're into tracking water, Laurel Fork merges with Straight Fork in Hardscrabble, VA forming the North Fork of the South Branch of the Potomac. It's not a boulder-strewn high gradient Shenandoah stream but a sandstone ledge-bottom, valley-tumbler that collects flow from numerous ravine-runs that drain the ridge lines that parallel the fork. These runs {Cold Spring, Christian, Knotmaul, Buck, Locust, Slabcamp, Lost and Bearwallow) can be fished for natives themselves. I flipped dries at fat brookies finning in jacccuzi-sized pools on the hike down and up but these trout were wary of danger from above and invariably skittered into their under-ledge hidey-holes at the first sign of my approach.
wary trout were everywhere
The hike down Buck Run Trail just after sunrise was 2.9 miles of fall splendor, a moderate gradient trail tracing the descent of a finger to my right and Buck Run to my left as I descended about 1000 feet to Laurel Fork.
Sun sparkles into Buck Run as it opens into Laurel Fork valley
view downstream emerging from Buck Run trail
The morning sun pierced the hollow as it rose and made the fall colors explode providing great contrast with the bright sky in the background. Slowed by the beauty of the trail and by marveling at the fat brookies who somehow exist in the little plunge pools of the run I made it to Laurel fork at 0830.
mature male finning on a redd
I approached the stream and as I was taking a seat on a convenient ledge two swirling splashes greeted me about 5 feet away. I thought I'd stirred a water snake but for the red and white that caught my eye as I oriented on the commotion. As I stood still two fat spawning brookies returned 15 seconds later to their shallow redds in the cobble. I knew that this was spawning season and this reinforced my 'step-carefully' mode for the day. This wasn't hard as the fork's bottom is predominantly sandstone shelf and the spawning grounds in the cobble were obvious and on the edges of the stream.
3 sisters falls
these under water paw prints let you know that you share this special place
To my relative disappointment the trout were feeding actively and I really had to work for each strike. I fished downstream from Buck Run for about 300 yards with little success only bringing one trout to hand using a variety of dry dropper combinations. I turned back up stream and began fishing my favored upstream presentations when a fly landed on my glasses and as I grabbed an apple I decided to mimic it with a size 16 yellow-humpy.
I matched this hatch w a yellow humpy
dark brookie takes a humpy
whirlpool sucked .5 the flow of the rover into a cavern
This didn't blow the doors off my catch rate but with my upstream approach and the matching the small hatch (see photo) I started picking up natives on both the humpy and a #18 prince nymph.
The colors were amazing today, the sun dancing on and through the water
I worked up to Locust Spring Run and then came to a magnificent pool and decided ala Scott that if I caught a trout I'd make it my last fish on my last cast of the day. I worked the tail (see below) of the pool and saw a rise 2/3 of the way up on the right. I checked my backcast (all clear) and looped a cast to the edge of my 1wts' range, nothing on my first cast, but two casts later I had a 7-inch trophy to end the day. The walk back out was beautiful but long, a full 3.5 uphill miles later I slogged wearily into camp, dropped my gear. I was super happy the van started and that I had saved (forgotten) a Twix bar. This is an awesome place its a hike to get here and a hike in but I'll come again.
final and finest pool of the day I caught my last trout 2/3 up on the left casting from this position
Lord knows I like catching and releasing fish but the more I do I realize that it's not just that. It's about richly and fully appreciating the moment, about connecting and sharing moments with friends, those on the stream and those not. And for an immensely satisfying instant being part of nature not apart from it, drinking it in and having it sustain you. After having a great adventure with Bill Pfeiffer and Henry last weekend Scott Larochelle and his bride Carole were on my mind as James and I made our way into the mountains to a little blue line I'd never fished but already knew.
James addresses a typical small pool
Despite flooding from last weeks storms and 'Closed' signs, Cedar Run was running clear enough that we stopped on an old bridge to marvel at its clarity, the sun and the shadows conspiring to render the water transparent, each detail of the cobble there for all to see. Cedar Run drains a steep hollow west of Old Rag and is twin to White Oak Canyon nestled just to its east. Together they form a popular waterfall infested loop-hike and as their waters merge in Berry Hollow the main stem of the Robinson River takes shape. The trout here are not so numerous as in Rapidan but that's a common remark and our colorful partners kept us busy striking at well presented dries in the usual holding spots.
Staying behind the rocks high-sticking a fly into the pool above
Fly fishing is also about the anticipation, the coffee, the drive, the ritualistic gear-up, the knots, the flies and the walk. Standing in the stream its easy to forget, but important to remember that you're standing in a work in progress, a gorge and riverbed being carved since the last ice age. The boulders providing shelter for the ageless trout leaning into the current and always losing. Contemplating the stream is a lesson in humility, you realize how temporary you are how you should treasure these moments and these memories.
James (center in the stream) appear one with boulders as colors merge
Taking cover behind a boulder James optimizes his presentation
James at 'lower' Cedar Run Falls..awesome waterfall
We must take adventures to find out where we belong
"Be careful, he's gonna wrap you around that log" I told Henry as his 70 minute struggle with this Salmon wound down. "That's no log, that's the Salmon!" exclaimed Joe who'd waded over to lend his season pass holders' experience to help end Henry's epic battle. Several chess moves later the rocket of a salmon succumbed to rod and net and Henry, broad grin on his face, shook out his cramping forearms in victory. When we finally got back to Bill on the DSR side of the Meadow Run Henry hoisted the Salmon and she spilled a gallon of eggs back into the River. Amazing.
DSR Map Extract
This trip had begun months ago with Shana reserving cabins at Selkirk and fisher-Pfeiffers mulling schedules to see what might work amongst life's other commitments. Fritz had suggested that we invite my brother-in-law Henry and in the end the fishing party was Bill, Henry and I.
Sunrise at Meadow Run
The promise of a grand adventure, good camaraderie and massive Salmon buoyed our weeks ahead of the trip. Not even hurricane Joachim could dampen our spirits and fortunately a high pressure system over Canada kept the wettest weather in the mid-Atlantic and below. By the time I picked up Henry in Syracuse the weather was partly cloudy and perfect for fishing.
We met Bill at a newly renovated Selkirk Shores cabin and were spoiled the first night by its luxurious renovation. After arriving, we took in a beautiful of sunset over Lake Ontario, visited Whitakers Fly Shop and had a prime rib feast at Rivers Edge.
I think of this Pfeiffer Family Trip as an Heirloom
After some pass confusion leading up to the trip Bill was able to secure me a day-pass for Saturday from the good folks at the DSR. Passes are both getting more expensive and harder to come by during the height of the Salmon Run so one of the lessons for next year is to get passes as early as possible. We also learned that they sell passes starting at 0445 the day prior. Lotsa folks were disappointed to learn this and I was very lucky Bill was able to work some magic to get me a pass for Saturday.
Henry Fish-on Day 1, Hen fought this Salmon for 35-min
Hen Fighting his Day 1 Salmon w Help from Rusty and Mike
Henry tries to keep his Day 1 Salmon out of the current
Bill at pole position on DSR-side of Meadow Run
Henry and I rolled out of bed and were at the DSR by 0500 on Saturday and after working out some easy kinks were following our headlamps down the familiar walk to the Meadow Run at 0600. Excitement and anticipation built as we neared the top of Meadow Run. We found the top DSR-side spots occupied and quickly moved to the guide-side sandbar ahead of another family party who were intent on fishing Upper Clay Hole from the island.
Bill hooked a Salmon in this sycamore hole at top of the Meadow
As a streaks of color broke the nightscape our lines were in the water, anticipation pushing to the limit the 30-minute before sun-rise rule. Henry was fishing a TFO 8wt with an Orvis Access Reel and I was sticking a 11' 7/8 switch from WildWater with a TFO Prism reel that I've come to enjoy. We began with standard patterns and a sinking leaders but soon moved to split shot above the terminal leader so we could feel the bottom-cobble bumps as our presentations swung through the current.
Bill and Hen Chat across Meadow Run's Channel
Henry Ties-up at upper Fly Fishing Area
Within the first 10 minutes I helped land a nice King from a long-rodder who had been pulled down from Upper Clay and landed it along the guide-side bank of Meadow. The morning was beautiful but action was slow and fish were not moving in any numbers, occasionally we'd see one move up through the central channel but they were few and far between. Throughout the two days Bill and I were both struck by how stealthily those that were moving were moving up the river. There was very little if any porposing or braking the water among the movers.
Mirror image photo of Hen at Upper Fly Zone
Henry hooked into a good salmon from the guide-side of the run around 0930 and fought him up and down the Meadow for 35 Minutes until he finally broke off below the Meadow Run on the guide-side in the fast water. Through the fight Henry was aided by two guides Rusty and Mike and their suggestions with this salmon would help Henry the next day when he'd again have a salmon in this same stretch. Bill joined Henry and I at about 1015 after changing Cabins and soon we were all swinging flies through mid-afternoon.
Bill at top of Meadow run, salmon would stage in this pool before their next run
We all needed a change of scenery so Bill went back to Selkirk and Henry and I made the familiar drive through Pulaski, into Altmar, past the Hatchery to the Upper fly fishing area where we geared up and gave a go at the Salmon in the cigar pool at the upstream limit of the fly fishing zone. Folks were hooking them, there as they usually do, but we didn't see any landed as the salmon would quickly maneuver into the fast current at the bottom of the pool and break off. We fished until dusk, met Bill as we walked out and found ourselves at Stephanos eating garlic knots and hearty fare quickly.
Henry bisect the channel at top of Meadow Run
Water-level shot
Day two was smoother than day one and dawn found us again on the Meadow Run waiting for sun-up. Bill had the first hook-up of the day at the top of the run in the pool under the sycamore tree. Salmon were staging in the pool after making it through the run before they moved upstream to Upper Clay Pool and Bill got one to strike within a pole length of his feet. The Salmon swirled and fought for long enough for me to grab my net and start walking and then it was gone swallowed back by the river. Buoyed by this shot of salmonoid-adrenalin we fished harder channeling Fritz and trying to anticipate a strike on every swing. My turn came next with a hook up along the DSR side of the channel swinging an orange bead-head egg pattern tied by Fritz. I had him on for 2-3 minutes and then he swung his head and was gone.
Fritz tied this beauty and it gave me my only long hook-up
As the day would down toward 1215 and Hwy 81 and Henry's flight beckoned, Henry hooked a large fresh Salmon at the top of Meadow Run that perma-etched smiles on our faces. Henry's 8wt flexed for all it was worth line, screaming out and being slowly fought back to reel, Bill watched from the DSR side with the other fishermen and I tried to stay below Henry's Salmon with my large, but seemingly inadequate net.
Henry hooked into his Day 2 Salmon
Henry did his best to stay on the guide-side bank and turn the Salmon out of the current but this was a big fish and with Henry's relatively light 8wt and commitment not to lose the fish by horsing him, the Salmon made his way down into the deep current of the left channel below the Meadow. Looking to keep the salmon from moving farther down the deep channel I parked myself in the middle of the fast water hoping to body block the salmon from another down stream run. It worked in a fashion, but instead of running, the Salmon just parked itself in the current and would not move more than 15 feet in any direction.
Aided by Joe Henry & confident in his hookset Hen increases pressure on the Salmon
Henry would win back a few feet of backing and then his drag would let it back out again. At some point a DSR alumni (Joe) joined Henry and offered some pointers on how to pressure the fish and get him out of the current. 20 Minutes of rod and line finagling later. Henry had the salmon out of the fast current and in 2' of water. I snuck up behind ready to net it, I couldn't see it clearly and was worried that it was about to wrap itself around a log in the shadowed shallows. "Be careful, he's gonna wrap you around that log" I told Henry as the struggle wound down. "That's no log, that's the Salmon!" said Joe before the salmon went on one last 10-min run before being brought to hand by Henry.
Trophy Brought to hand w Bill
She spilled a gallon of roe back into the river
Henry walked the netted salmon triumphantly back up the run to Bill where we took the pictures you see.
Best walk ever back to car
A shuffle back to the car, goodbyes and a road-side cleaning in Pulaski later we had two large salmon slabs on ice and were headed south on 81 exhausted and ready to come back to this great place again for our next adventure.
