Lower Rapidan Wild Section

James and I decided to get a head start to the weekend and when we learned that Henry couldn't make the Gunpowder we decided on the lower portion of the upper Rapidan.    The lower portion, in my reckoning, is the first section above the stalked section where there's cold enough water year round to harbor naturally reproducing brookies.   My sense is that this begins where the Staunton River enters the Rapidan from the SouthWest (or left) a 12 minute walk up from the end of road cul-de-sac at the End of Graves Mill Road.

Here's where the Staunton comes in from the left we started fishing this pool immediately to the right, James with a 3-wt and I was armed with a heavier TFO 8'  2-wt up-gunned with  new 3-wt line, and yes it cast like a dream. The sky was blue and the air temp would creep up from 48 when we started through 68 when we finished, the water flowed true at 48 all day. We fluttered our normal selection of dries and droppers and picked up a few, but the strike rate was low initially with the exception of little river shiners that inhabit these lower pools.    The river, inhabiting a wider valley to start, was less channelized and generally shallower with less tree cover.   It was drop dead gorgeous and we named new pools along the way...Long pool, Big Rock Pool, Hidden Pool,

Note: Shallow terrain (and river)

James works a cast up long pool

Standing just upstream of James' position in the Photo above was this large brookie finning in the cobble

See brookie dead center facing 1100

The fishing rate picked up as the sun rose in the sky prompting a small size 26 hatch of flies, as the elevation increased and pools deepened and when we decided to float elk hair caddis w/o droppers, this combinatyion of factors made the last 2 hours of fishing worth every advil.    My goal for today was to  make it to the Ford 13 minutes below junction pool and as we approached.    Now for some brook-char.

sneaking up the top of long pool

Taken underwater and below a brookie meets his shadow

James humored me as I wanted to catch a fish on my last cast and here she is a 9.5" beauty w/in site of the ford.

Thanks for looking

Shenandoah Overnight

The adventure begins on the Upper Conway

Bathed in the moonlight of a supermoon and cocooned in our hammocked sleeping bags, Henry and I fell asleep to the gurgling sounds of the Upper Rapidan on an overnight trip into the Shenandoah Mtns last week.    Planning for the trip began on the Gunpowder earlier this fall when we sketched out the basics of an overnight in Va trout country.  We began in the upper Conway, set up camp and walked down the overgrown portion of Rt 667 towards Devils Ditch.   The flow was very low on the on the Conway and almost non-existent through Devil's Ditch.   We decided to head down stream another 10-min and fish back up the main-stem of the Conway.   Both air and water was 52.  The Conway below Devils Ditch is fabulously beautiful, deep pools and runs reminiscent of the lower Rapidan up to Junction Pool.   We were rewarded with a fish on my third cast as Henry put my cast on a likely target at the top of an amazing pool.   The surface strike jolted us and the 9.75” brookie was a beauty.    

Long and lean this brook-char was 9.75"

After that brookie Hen moved into casting position and had a similar dry fly strike at the top of the pool.   Alas, after a great start, this would be the highlight of our day as the strike rate was REALLY slow throughout our time on the Conway.  I did catch this nice little Mtn-born brown before we gave up on the Conway and headed to the Upper Rapidan looking to change our fortunes.

Looks a bot like a brookie but this is a Conway-brown

The Upper Rapidan is one of my favorite places and we jeeped up the rutted road above the other mountaineers who were getting an early start to their Veterans Day weekend.   We made camp about 150 m below the forest service gate and caught a few brookies in the waning hours of the day.

After filling our bellies with a Pam’s spaghetti hybrid we enjoyed a beer as the supermoon rose from valley below.  Lullabied by the Rapidan and the wind whistling through the trees we woke and started day two off with strong coffee and bacon sandwiches and hit the stream just after day break.

Breaking camp and making Coffee

Anxious to be ahead of the other campers in the Marine camps a few hundred meters below.  Fishing was slow but  slowly picked up as I introduced Hen to the lovely pools and runs on the upper Rap.  

Hen works the top edge of a great Upper-Rap Pool (note more water in the Rap than the Conway)

Where rays of sunlight penetrated the deeply cut streambed we could make out a sparse, but noticeable hatch of black flies.    The sunlight and warmed the waters and towards 1100 the brookies were hitting at reasonable rates as we approached the Hoover Camp.   

a small fella but brilliant colors

With enough trout brought to hand to make the day a success we toured the presidential camp and then made our way back to the jeep.

Hen navigates the glide-slide

Thanks for looking

Friday Fly Fishing Club

Cast of characters

I hadn't travelled far from Salmon River when I began planning my next time on the water, the planning and anticipation all add to the fun.  I cast the net and Henry, Bryan and James, trout-bums all, were eager to join.  We needed enough water to spread out and Henry needed to be back in Philly Friday night so we chose a bottom up approach to Jeremy's Run.  Jeremy's Run is one of my very favorite streams and I was excited to introduce Bryan and Henry to its secrets.

X-Files Iron deposits in the rocks

Henry fished Gunpowder Falls on Thursday and stayed in Front Royal on so we met up for coffee and caravaned to our jumping off point off RR 611 Friday Morning.   It was cool, grey and drizzly and promised to get wetter as we geared up with light rods and stepped off up the trail for our 25 min walk-in.   The run was gurgling at low-pool and looked fishy.

Boulders pools 25-min in

Henry Fish-on

Henry employs the oft maligned sit and dangle technique

We decided to fish in pairs with one JR vet with each pairing and meet at the first falls at 1430.   Henry and I dropped off the well trod path and out of the fishing fire team and entered slid into the river just as we descended to the boulder pools about 25-min into our walk.  We'd fish up the waterfall, James and Bryan would start at the waterfall.

Fall splendor

Great color on a stream standard sized brookie

We had a great day and all (less Bryan) re-learned lessons about transitioning from 8wts to 2 & 3wt rods; drift, drag, line maintenance, hair width tippet, etc.  When all is right, all is forgotten and what remains is anticipation and the river.  All was right this morning as flecks of color rose from cobble beds to nail dry and dropper.  The simplicity of brook trout adding clarity and simplicity, helping us understand answers to questions we're often too busy to ask. We each caught our share and it seemed when we met at 1430 that the biggest trout were the furthest up the run even though the water begins to get skinnier. 

The colors of fall

  

Salmon Run

Salmon brought to hand (and you) courtesy of Jacob Pfeiffer



At the Little Black Hole this fella arrived, grounded his gear in this hole near the Glide.  He was clad all in tan from waders to mack, and he summoned king salmon with unholy knack. Char, corralled at his feet did not lack, a lucky SOB and that's for a fact.   He heard Henry's query and turned with a smirk, his fly pattern hidden and doing its' work..  "What are you doing that I'm not my friend?"  To this he replied with impish grin, THE DIFFERENCE IS EASY YOU’VE GOTTA PUT IN THE WORK"! True story and I thought Henry might toss the fellow into Little Black Hole.   It's true ...with salmon after you develop a base level of skill luck and luck of position and drift are a substantial factor.  Henry and I would return to little black hole later in the adventure and be out-fished by a wide margin by 1st time anglers Lauren (14), Ben (11) and brother Rob (9).    It was amazing; their inattention to line and leader an advantage in contrast to our studious application of all manner of accepted technique (which didn't work)....good times.  Sometimes you're the bug, but more often this trip the windshield -- we enjoyed incredible success during the trip as you can see below...

Henry with a impossibly massive King Salmon -- Hen (large man) had a hard time wrestling this fish

This was a wonderful trip, highlighted by company who had fished these Pfeiffer waters before, but not together.  Life is rarely predictable, but this summer it became apparent that Bill would be able to host sons Fritz and Paul and grandson Jacob and Henry and I were lucky to be able to join them. The Salmon River/ to the Pfeiffers  (what the)  Little Bigfoot / to the Macleans -- a watery touchstone.

Not long before Jacob is as tall as Fritz

Jacob and Paul take a sunset break at the head of River Lodge Run 





Bill, Jacob and Matt wait for Henry to leave return (that guy loves to fish!)

Father and Son at the Meadow

Bill works a seam

they get a lot of practice w selfies (not)



Matt, Paul, Bill and Henry pause a moment at Rover Lodge Run

Salmon fishing is dependent on the run -- a good run promising hookups with monster Kings and colorful Cohos as their physiology drives them on a one way race to their spawning grounds.  We hit it right -- Salmon had been stacking up in the estuary and on Friday (10/7) they began a jail break and then on Saturday a blustery rain increased their numbers to something worthy of a WFN special.
     

Thigh deep in the cold water we usually contemplate fishy thoughts balancing the chance of a strike with the cold seeping into our joints, this trip the scream of reels and line slicing through water kept us alert and on euphoric edge. These spawn-and-death char are not interested in any deviation to their plan and that makes them all the more entertaining as they fight with all their strength. A lucky and skilled angler may land one of 4 fair hooked salmon.

I'd hooked into many a Salmon on earlier trips but had not actuallty brought one to hand so I was ELATED when I brought that streak to end, and true to the character of this trip Fritz, witness to my previous efforts, was even happier for me.   Salmon fishing here on the DSR is a community experience and the better the company the better the experience. 

More than tactics, which we improved, and gear, which we refined, the treasured takeaways from this trip are the memories:

            ~ Bill: sitting on a perfect shale seat soaking in his sons and grandson fishing together

           ~ Jacob: momentarily disconsolate after losing a monster in the driving rain and then jubilant when he landed another (see first photo of post)

            ~ Henry: beaming & chomping at the bit, geared up and ready while the rest of us hadn't rubbed the sleep from our eyes

             ~ Paul working a quiet seem in front of the lodge and pulling salmon after salmon from its darting shadows

            ~ The joy on Fritz' face when I landed a salmon (his mentoring complete)  

            ~ Paul standing among racing salmon as they splashed him & passed him at the top of the Meadow  

            ~ Standing in 50 degree water in a driving rainstorm line screaming and slicing the water hoping that I my backing flyline knot would hold true

            ~ The elated cries of "Fish On" keeping the cold at bay 

            ~ Realization that that shadow, that log you nearly stepped on is a Salmon

            ~ And yes Henry getting told, "You've just gotta put in the work!"

 Thanks for looking and for a great trip -- Tight Lines -- Matt