James taking a break descending Dark Hollow Falls on Hog Camp Branch
The main flow of Rose River comes from Hog Camp Branch and the hike down below Dark Hollow Falls Trail is one you don't take lightly. I told James it wasn't far from Skyline Drive horizontally but it is vertically.
Keeping low to hide his approach James stalks a mountain pool
We parked and geared up at 28 degrees 3500' feet on skyline Drive and carefully made our way down the steep trail with our gear packed in Mountain rucks. It was an easy hike down and about 200m in we began to see brook trout inexplicably high up in the plunge pools. At the bottom of dark Hollow Falls we geared up and stashed our packs under a log and headed another 15 minutes down Hog Camp Branch Trail to a lovely little bridge just above where the namesake Rose rivulet joins HogCamp to form Rose River.
The Mr. Rapidan parachute is a hard fly to beat
A perfect brookie pool on the Upper Rose
Unlike last Friday there were no bugs in the air and the fishing was corresponding slow as the trout kept low in the water with their eyes down and ahead instead of up looking for a hatch.
Believe it or not there are 19 brook trout in each of these two pictures...see if you can find some
We had a great time and each caught our share of trout but it wasn't a gang buster day. My best catch came in the last pool and bathtub sized plunge pool at the base of Dark Hollow Falls where I caught the very same trout I caught there last year.
Several corners of the country have a distinct trouty flavor, northern lakes, Appalachian freestone rivers, tailwater browns and bows, western mountain cutthroats, etc., there are more and another is the Driftless area of the northern-Midwest.
Weeks ago I asked Scott if he could spare time for an Old Dominion fishing holiday and he told me that his dance card was full with a trip to his old haunts in the Driftless area of SW Wisconsin…did I want to come? We’d talked about this area on are many adventures together and as he knew…be careful when you ask me to join you because I’ll try my best to make it.
Meaty Driftless Brown
Scott high sticks a run
The driftless spans Minnesota, Wisconsin, NW Illinois and NE Iowa and was never covered (carved) by glacier. The rolling terrain continues to be cleaved by the main stem of the Mississippi River and 600+ tributaries as they continue to sculpt the bedrock. Sorry King James, but the rock exposed rock in this area is 500-million years old. The name itself refers to the lack of ‘gravel-drift’ (not present) in the area. The largest portion of the Driftless area lies in Wisconsin and is bordered by the Chippewa River to the North and the Wisconsin River to the East. If you’re looking on a map pick out Lacrosse, WI, look just SE and you’ll be in the right area. Scott and I met in Milwaukee Thursday morning marveling at how Southwest Airlines makes the fishing world a lot smaller. After grabbing a cup of coffee and snacks at familiar store in Delafield, where Scott used to teach, we pushed west toward Madison and then rolled onto State Hwy 14 toward Richlands Center where we linked up with an old friend of Scott’s.
Len (behind Scott) put us on his favorite water
Len guided in the Driftless for years and over trips with Scott a friendship took root. With Scott catching up with Len I followed in our rental as we motored 20-min west through rolling farmland to waters you’ll need to ask Len about if you want to ever get there ☺. It was a treat for both of us to soak up his local insights as we adjusted to this fishery. Len was as direct, kind and knowledgeable and after I passed casting test muster we fished together with Len deferring to us on choice holes then pulling golden-spotted browns out of each hole Scott and I had just worked (Ah…local expertise makes a HUGE difference)!
This was a learning experience; the tree & scrub lined creek bank and silty/soil bottom lend it itself to bank fishing with bulky black buggers flickering through narrow back cast windows. We fished until the sun settled below a hill to the west and we were all worn out from a long day which had started in VA for me and FL for Scott. After a quick good bye and thanks to Len we were on our way West to the small farming town and fishing center of Viroqua where an overall wearing fella eyed me as a stranger and asked what I was up to, and when I said fishing, he replied, “that’s good because there’s not much else going on around here.”
The runs and run outs were picture perfect
We tucked ourselves into the nicest hotel in town boasting a large trout where the sign might once have said Comfort Inn. And after a quick shower we limped across the street at ‘Gassers’ a fine-enough-for-us sports bar with a local “W” amber lager which washed down our calories, soothed our stiff joints and eased us off to sleep.
We were excited to get on the water so after a pretty darn fine coffee & muffin we headed northwest to the West Fork of the Kickapoo River in vicinity of the tiny hamlet of Avalanche. We headed upstream from a WI TU Camping convention and found some empty lovely water. We parked streamside rigged up 4 & 5wts and slid through the thick 34 degree morning down a bank and into the mid-50 degree water of the WF Kickapoo.
Drifting tandem nymphs under indicators we soon picked up small feisty browns in the tailouts of flows and bankside and had expectant feel they wouldn’t be the last.Nymph selection didn’t seem to matter and we picked up trout on prince, hares-ear, pheasant-tail and pink-squirrel nymphs. What DID matter was attentiveness to a dragless high stick presentation and to the degree the degree possible a stealthy masked approach.
In retrospect, many indicator ‘bumps’ we read as nymphs dragging the bottom were active browns feeding at the bottom of the water column. We/ I also fell into the tempting trap of long casts until Scott and I conferred and decided that those long casts subjected the floating line to too much current dragging the indicator & nymphs unnaturally and harming the presentation. This truism endured and once understood we both picked up many more trout.
As the sun peaked over the low ridge to the East the browns started getting bigger and native brookies entered the mix. There was one amazing ripple-run where Scott picked up 6-7 brookies in so many drifts but beyond that exciting aberration browns outnumbered brookies 3:1.
We might have stayed longer, lunch could wait with the fishing this good, but we saw flyrod rod tips swaying like corn in the wind in the next horseshoe bend and decided to call it a morning. We didn’t count fish but fist bumped an amazing morning. As we walked back streamside through a lovely field we passed a grandfather, his black lab puppy scout greeting all, fishing with his son and two grandchildren …good living.
Legacy Brookie with Scott's Dad favorite fly
After visiting a Subway in full fishing gear (they didn’t bat an eye) we headed SE to Nerdlo Creek to a Small stretch where Scott looked forward to revisiting a special bend in the creek. We parked off the road and worked our way down a high and steep bluff till we slid into the creek 150m below our target hole. We fished up to the hole w/o success as the water looked to good to pass up, but something in the waters’ DNA causes the browns to stack up in this one 30’ section….wow. I’ve forgotten who hooked the first brown, but it didn’t matter as we took turns casting, catching and marveling at the productivity of the water. I’ve heard driftless browns described as wild and spooky….these were hungry and aggressive!
This was probably our biggest brown of the trip
12-15 trout out of the top of this hole
After regaining our bearings on our trusty Delorme Scott found a run-out from a flood impoundment he remembered held a brood of brookies, so he rigged-up with his dad’s favorite fly, a classic NE mickey finn pattern, and in remembering his dad, hooked-up a small brookie from the mini-van sized hole.
Amazing natural camoflage
We tried to bribe our way to our final water of the day, but either the ornery farm owners weren’t in or they didn’t have a taste for the MGD Scott carried in greeting, we’ll never know. We drove upstream, just out of shotgun range, rigged up and shimmied under the barbed wire and electrified fence (yep… “ZZZZZZ” there was plenty of current flowing…but it didn’t really hurt) and made a beeline for a steeply cut bank. The streamer fishing in this section of Nerdlo wasn’t what Scott remembered; the access was REALLY tough: high banks, thick-deadfall and silty, sinking muck, etc. but we BTH enough browns and a few brookies to make it worthwhile. Exhausted, dehydrated but very happy we limped back to the car and headed back to Viroqua to lick our wounds, drink a few beers and fortify ourselves for the next day.
We decided to head back to the WF Kickapoo for the morning
of our last day and we slid into the cold water at 0820. The water
on Thursday had been a surprisingly warm 62, this water must have been
no more than 55, cold and clear. With lessons learned in our pocket
we worked our drags and drifts and having released more than
our share of brooks and browns already we stalked and
partner-fished the likely water. After you’ve caught
enough it’s just as fun to scout water and guide
your in-stream buddy.
As 95% of the fish are in 5% of the water finding that
water, those micro runs and holding water and feeding
stations and then directing a successful cast and drift is a great
feeling. The Browns didn’t disappoint especially in ‘redemption hole’
which we’d doubled back to hit where we caught 12-15 until their jaws were
sore and we were looking for lunch.
Scott knows lots of driftless water and one last spot he wanted to try was Knapp Creek,
smaller spring-fed water flowing through a picturesque farm. As we approached, I wasn’t impressed,
it looked tiny flowing below the small bridge where we parked, but Scott was confident so we walked ¾
of a mile downstream and hoped in. We didn’t know if this would be streamer or nymph fishing and after
not having much luck with either and feeling a bit worn out we began to see the telltale rings of rising trout
and a flittering hatch just off the surface.
Scott guided me to a bend with an active riser and we took our
first brown on a size 19 parachute BWO. This made our day as there’s little we enjoy more than taking
rising trout on dry flies. Casting through narrow windows we fished the last half mile back to our car
targeting and catching aggressive rising browns and brookies. The adrenal jolt when a well presented
fly is smacked by an aggressive trout is amazing. We finally made it back to our car and with a 3 hour
drive back to Milwaukee ahead of us we stowed our gear and headed out with plans to be back again.
It's a treat to introduce someone you care about to one of your favorite fishing experiences, and so it was for Henry and I, after a monster day on the shad run on Saturday, to bring Izzy to the rodeo on Sunday.
Hen points from casting rock to the strike zone
The Shad weren't as aggressive, but they were still running by our feet in untold multitudes as we pushed into the current on slippery rock-perches leaning from Fredericksburg toward eagles nests and osprey perches on the Falmouth side.
Early sun rise over Falmouth, VA
The streamer of choice was a Fritz-inspired #6 streamer 1x hook w a short white maribou tail, a body of red chenille, heavy dumbbell eyes w a bit of flash worked into the body. Izzy, perched mid-flow on our casting rock hooked 8-10 shad before she got the rhythm of hookset and retrieve and had a wide and warm Ritchie smile on her bright face as she brought to hand her first unassisted Shad.
Izzy backs and glory (and dries off) after her first shad
What a treat for Henry and I. Interspersed with Izzy refining her technique were moments of wonder and humor. When rays of sun peaked through the clouds they illuminated swarms of shad right at our feet staging in holding water before racing up the next chute. For anyone, but for Izzy in particular, it was amazing to see the shad massed inside her pole tip.
This shad video is amazing
Dad-help-sacrifice led to great humor as Hen, in an attempt to free Izzy's snag, tipped off the casting rock and like batman diving off a Gotham skyscraper plunged into the main channel up to his neck no doubt concerning the shad as well. Heroically holding Izzy's 50.00 rod high and safe he lost his grip on his expensive Sage-Orvis outfit into the swift flow as his waders filled and he was swept toward the rapids. After choice exclamations commingled with nervous laughter from Izzy and I (and shouts of worry from an upstream angler) his toes found purchase on hidden rocks and he angled his way to safety. Once we knew all were safe and we couldn't get any wetter :-) we saw Henry's fluorescent yellow line glistening in the black water and were able to catch the line with a boot toe and pull line, rod and reel back to safety. Rod recovery compete, we made our way back to dry rocks to regroup and only then as Hen started to emerge from the water did we realize that his waders keep water in as well as they keep water out! Picture a water balloon filled to its max. Hen + water must have weighted +600 lbs and he needed to flip onto his back on a rock and raise his legs to allow the trapped water to gush out and lighten the load. What a day and memories.
Heaven has got to be like April on a VA trout streams. Stream temps in the low 50s, clear running water incubating bugs to life and causing brook trout to look up for their next meal. They are so eager to slurp the hatch from the film of the surface...it's a show to watch.
Low Water in the log pool
With a Friday off I headed to my home waters of the upper Rapidan and was pleased to find only a truffle hunter parked at the upper limit of the fire road. I was greeted by a swarm of flies as I started rigging a trusty 2wt built for casting in these narrow confines. I didn't tie on a dropper as is my habit and was rewarded with amazing dry fly action for my stay.
Tight casting required in this crystal clear pool
The Glide Run is one of the loveliest on the Upper Rapidan
The flow was low this high on the mountain and the dry spring caused the trout to be staged in the pools not the normal holding runs... so I went pool hunting. I soon was reminded to approach each pool stealthily as a spooking even the bottom/near side of the pool would decrease me chances throughout the pool. With no schedule to keep I approached each pool slowly and really worked on alighting my fly first cast in the right spot with the right presentation and brought brilliant brookies to hand in 7 of the first 10 pools before I stopped counting and let the morning flow through me. I watched in wonder as brookies submarine-porpoised 2-3 inches out of the water attacking their surface meals. All my brookies were caught on a single warrior of a parachute-adams before the hackle was torn off and I retired. An amazing day in an amazing place.
Swarms of trout food!
"The older I get the more I strive to spend time in beautiful places that inspire me"
The Shad run has yet to be steady. The run has only been thick one day thus far. My seventh trip was greeted by snow squalls and falling temps, grey sky and gusty winds breeding shivers. I had to really work for my fish. Resident shad were in the usual holding water in small numbers and after moving around I finally found shad in one of the lower (bridge-side) deep slots of holding water.
Swinging streamers didn't work today and the best presentation was to cast upstream of your target water and nymph these heavy shad-dart-type flies back through the target following the fly with rod tip until the fly rides up at the end of the drift. All in all a great day to be out on the river corralling these silver swimmers.
