Jackson River Counter-Clave

I gave serious thought for a couple of weeks to going up to Penn's and
joining in the festivities, but in the end, my introverted side won over and
I spent the weekend camping at Hidden Valley in western Virginia. At first
I figured I was participating in an anti-clave, but that's not quite
correct. I'm not against what they're doing in PA. In fact, I look forward
to meeting some of the participants. I finally reached the conclusion that
my actions were counter to the Penn's clave. Here's how:

1. I was the sole participant.
2. Sole invitee.
3. I didn't eat lobster.
4. I didn't share my flies with anyone.
5. Nor any of my alcohol.
6. Didn't cook for anyone but myself.
7. I didn't fish over trout that would turn their noses up at my poorly
tied sulphur imitations.
8. No raffle.

I arrived Friday in time to set up camp, eat a bite, and spend 45 minutes in
stocked water. Caught one standard rainbow before the biting bugs drove me
back to camp.

My camping/fishing trips follow a pattern. When I was younger, I would get
up before first light, drink a couple of cups of coffee, then fish for 3
hours or so. I'd come back, eat breakfast, then spend a few more hours on
the river. I'd come back in the middle of the afternoon and take a nap
before cooking and eating an early supper. Then I would fish until dark.

Not anymore. Now I sleep until the sun is well up. I drink a pot of coffee
and eat a leisurely breakfast. Then around lunchtime I go fish for a couple
of hours. Back for a late lunch, then fish until dark. One reason I like
trout is they'll wait on you to get up and get moving. They're the 7-11 of
fish.

Another reason for the change in my pattern is that I was never able to
sleep past 6 am. I thought it was just the way my body functioned. In
reality, it was the way my body functioned when I smoked. I quit a little
over a year ago and am now able to sleep until the sun wakes me up. That
demon Nicotine was getting me up in the morning.

So my pattern for this short trip was as follows: Get up when it was warm
enough. Coffee, then a hot breakfast. Mess around getting my gear ready.
Drive to and fish some new water. Head back to camp for lunch. Drive to
the special regulation section of the Jackson River. Return to camp well
after dark.

I spent Saturday's early session at the Power Company section of Back Creek.
Caught one on a beetle. Nothing much to recommend this water. I certainly
won't go back just for this water.

That afternoon, I went into the special reg area from the upstream access
off of Poor Farm Road. It is a walk of a mile or so from the parking area
to the boundary of the special reg area. I walked in a ways and stopped at
one of my favorite places on the river.

The special regs for this stretch of water are artificials only and a 2-fish
limit of trout 16 inches or longer. I've caught a number of trout 14-15,
but none that went 16 or better. This place I stopped out was once as
dependable as going to the fish market. I could expect to dredge a 2-nymph
rig through here and catch a least half a dozen fish. A couple of times I
got into double digits. Many were quality fish. Quality in this stretch of
river is anything cork length or longer.

The last time I fished here I found an empty worm container and caught a
handful of small fish. That was three Memorial Days ago. I haven't been
back to this spot since.

Second cast, I hooked something good. I fought this fish for an honest two
minutes before I saw it. A big brown. I quit carrying a net years ago. I
only need it once or twice a year. This was one of those times. I brought
it to hand as quickly as I could and measured it against my rod. I've got a
mark at 18". It wasn't 18, but it was easily 16" and as fat as a football.
An easy two pounds. Took a couple of what turned out to be crappy pictures
and let it go. Caught one me smallish rainbow. Nothing after that. Blamed
it on the fight with the brown. Moved on down.

Caught it on a Prince nymph.

That brown is my personal best Virginia trout. Edges out a Chattahoochee
rainbow for best east-of-the-Mississippi.

Bypassed a couple of familiar spots to search for a dry fly spot I
discovered in earlier trips. It was a challenge. I backtracked a few
times, but I finally got to where I wanted. I could see some sulphurs and
March Browns flying around.

Got into the river and waited. I've learned to move into place and hang out
for 5 minutes or so before trying anything. Fish got brains but they are
small brains. Not a lot of memory. Saw a few rises ahead. It looks like
they're going for emerging sulphurs. I look in my box and select a cripple
sulphur comparadun. The cripple is a regular comparadun with some z-lon off
the end which makes it look like the nymph casing is stuck to it.

I put down the first few fish I cast to, so I move up and cast to another
small pod. Catch two browns and a rainbow. Biggest is around 11'.
Smallest may go 9"

I'm fishing the rises ahead of me when I hear one of the fish behind me
making splashy rises. I try to ignore it, but he's making a lot of noise.
The ******* is mocking me. Two more splashes and I've had enough. I toss
the comparadun back there and skate it across his spot. A 6' brown leaps
completely out of the water to take the fly. I laugh the whole time I play,
secure, and release him.

Catch a couple more on the comparadun, then make the long walk back to my
truck. I usually stop at the fish market on the way back, but I'm running
late and have two more crossings to make. I do stop at the last crossing
and catch three rising hornyheads to bring my fish total to 12 on the day.

Back to camp. A bottle of fine Virginia wine while I catch up on my
journal. Bed.

On Sunday, I repeat the previous day's pattern, except I fish Back Creek
Gorge in the early session. No fish. Better scenery. Might be worth
another visit.

After lunch, I drive to the lower parking lot and haul ass for the 1.7 miles
it takes to hike to the swinging bridge. I move upstream looking for
action. I don't see any, so my 2-nymph rig I've got on is the right one.

The Jackson in this area is like a Montana river. Riffles and pools. It's
like a mini-Yellowstone. Not at all like other freestone waters I've seen
in the southeast. There's some good nymphing water in between stretches of
good dry fly water. If there were such a thing as a flyrod caddy, this is
the place to hire one.

I catch a couple of fish. One per small riffle. See some rises. Tie on a
parachute Adams. Catch a couple more.

I spend 30 minutes casting to, then resting a fish that was sitting at the
upstream end of a log laying in the water along a bank. Damned fish kept
missing my fly. Finally give up on it after the 4th miss.

Walking upstream, I come out of a bend to the tail of a long pool. The pool
is about 200 yards long. 40 yards wide. It's past 8. The sun is behind the
ridge. I can still see, but I don't want to stray too far. I see where I
want to climb out of the river for the walk to my truck.

There are fish rising. Maybe 15 within 40 yards of where I'm standing. I
look up and see thousands of spinners in the air. Most look to be March
Browns. Some look to be suplhurs. Some are huge white mayflies with a
thick body. I've got some March Brown spinners that are comparable in size,
but tie on a white Wulff that is easier to see in the gloaming.

I put down the first few I cast to. I'm right behind them and the line
spooks them. I change tactics and catch three to my right. Two browns, one
around 12", one 9". One 9 " rainbow.

I used to thrive on catching fish in the tailouts of pools when I lived in
Georgia, but I've had no luck at all doing the same thing in Virginia, no
matter what water I'm fishing. These are the first tailout fish I've caught
in years. Damned enjoyable fish at that.

Finally get off the water at 8:40. Make it to the swinging bridge in 10
minutes. Make the 1.7 miles back to my truck in about 30 minutes, which
includes some stops to enjoy the darkness. I'm the only person within a 2
mile circle. Didn't do the bear survey.

No moon. Have a beer on the walk back, then another colder one at the truck
while I'm watching the stars come out. Into bed fairly early.

Up the next morning and debate spending another day. Work doesn't draw me
back so much as other places to be the next three weekends. As always, even
after a wet weekend, I sadly pack up my stuff and drive back to northern
Virginia. I'll be back for the Perseids.

This was supposed to be about 4 paragraphs....

John R

On Thu, 2 Jun 2005 22:47:53 -0400, "John Richardson"
wrote:



This was supposed to be about 4 paragraphs....



Four, fourteen, forty? What the heck. They were all enjoyable
paragraphs to read.

Cyli
r.bc: vixen. Minnow goddess. Speaker to squirrels.
Often taunted by trout. Almost entirely harmless.

http://www.visi.com/~cyli
email: lid (strip the .invalid to email)

John Richardson wrote:
I gave serious thought for a couple of weeks to going up to Penn's and
joining in the festivities, but in the end, my introverted side won
over and I spent the weekend camping at Hidden Valley in western
Virginia. At first I figured I was participating in an anti-clave,
but that's not quite correct. I'm not against what they're doing in
PA. In fact, I look forward to meeting some of the participants. I
finally reached the conclusion that my actions were counter to the
Penn's clave. Here's how:

1. I was the sole participant.
2. Sole invitee.
3. I didn't eat lobster.
4. I didn't share my flies with anyone.
5. Nor any of my alcohol.
6. Didn't cook for anyone but myself.
7. I didn't fish over trout that would turn their noses up at my
poorly tied sulphur imitations.
8. No raffle.
snip

No raffle? At least the recipient would have received exactly what he
wanted.

Sounds like a good time, John. I'd say "wish I could have been there",
but that would have foiled your plot. Thanks for the TR.
--
TL,
Tim,
who is planning such a clave this afternoon.
------------------------
http://css.sbcma.com/timj

"John Richardson" wrote in message
...
I gave serious thought for a couple of weeks to going up to Penn's and
joining in the festivities, but in the end, my introverted side won over
and
I spent the weekend camping at Hidden Valley in western Virginia. At
first
I figured I was participating in an anti-clave, but that's not quite
correct. I'm not against what they're doing in PA. In fact, I look
forward
to meeting some of the participants. I finally reached the conclusion that
my actions were counter to the Penn's clave.
John R


Hi John,
Ah . . .hah . . .one of those kind of clave folks. (hmm . . .I apparently
fit in . . . retired, and just don't make the time . . . and that goofy
money thing to get to one)
Enjoyed the TR.
BestWishes,
DaveMohnsen
Denver
('spect I may meet a ROFFian some day . . .just don't know if I'm prepared
to meet a whole bunch of them at the same time . . . just gets scary.)
But, I sorta figured out, these folks kinda can catch fish.

John, I am a transplant to Richmond and could sure use a guide/mentor
on these Va. waters! I solo'd a trip to the Skyline and didn't find
any water bigger than a trickel or so! Looked at North Fork Buffalo
Creek and figured that MAYBE a 5 inch brookie could inhabit those
waters! Give me a yell if'n ya want some company on your next trek to
western Va. Bill in Richmond


John Richardson wrote:
I gave serious thought for a couple of weeks to going up to Penn's and
joining in the festivities, but in the end, my introverted side won over and
I spent the weekend camping at Hidden Valley in western Virginia. At first
I figured I was participating in an anti-clave, but that's not quite
correct. I'm not against what they're doing in PA. In fact, I look forward
to meeting some of the participants. I finally reached the conclusion that
my actions were counter to the Penn's clave. Here's how:

1. I was the sole participant.
2. Sole invitee.
3. I didn't eat lobster.
4. I didn't share my flies with anyone.
5. Nor any of my alcohol.
6. Didn't cook for anyone but myself.
7. I didn't fish over trout that would turn their noses up at my poorly
tied sulphur imitations.
8. No raffle.

I arrived Friday in time to set up camp, eat a bite, and spend 45 minutes in
stocked water. Caught one standard rainbow before the biting bugs drove me
back to camp.

My camping/fishing trips follow a pattern. When I was younger, I would get
up before first light, drink a couple of cups of coffee, then fish for 3
hours or so. I'd come back, eat breakfast, then spend a few more hours on
the river. I'd come back in the middle of the afternoon and take a nap
before cooking and eating an early supper. Then I would fish until dark.

Not anymore. Now I sleep until the sun is well up. I drink a pot of coffee
and eat a leisurely breakfast. Then around lunchtime I go fish for a couple
of hours. Back for a late lunch, then fish until dark. One reason I like
trout is they'll wait on you to get up and get moving. They're the 7-11 of
fish.

Another reason for the change in my pattern is that I was never able to
sleep past 6 am. I thought it was just the way my body functioned. In
reality, it was the way my body functioned when I smoked. I quit a little
over a year ago and am now able to sleep until the sun wakes me up. That
demon Nicotine was getting me up in the morning.

So my pattern for this short trip was as follows: Get up when it was warm
enough. Coffee, then a hot breakfast. Mess around getting my gear ready.
Drive to and fish some new water. Head back to camp for lunch. Drive to
the special regulation section of the Jackson River. Return to camp well
after dark.

I spent Saturday's early session at the Power Company section of Back Creek.
Caught one on a beetle. Nothing much to recommend this water. I certainly
won't go back just for this water.

That afternoon, I went into the special reg area from the upstream access
off of Poor Farm Road. It is a walk of a mile or so from the parking area
to the boundary of the special reg area. I walked in a ways and stopped at
one of my favorite places on the river.

The special regs for this stretch of water are artificials only and a 2-fish
limit of trout 16 inches or longer. I've caught a number of trout 14-15,
but none that went 16 or better. This place I stopped out was once as
dependable as going to the fish market. I could expect to dredge a 2-nymph
rig through here and catch a least half a dozen fish. A couple of times I
got into double digits. Many were quality fish. Quality in this stretch of
river is anything cork length or longer.

The last time I fished here I found an empty worm container and caught a
handful of small fish. That was three Memorial Days ago. I haven't been
back to this spot since.

Second cast, I hooked something good. I fought this fish for an honest two
minutes before I saw it. A big brown. I quit carrying a net years ago. I
only need it once or twice a year. This was one of those times. I brought
it to hand as quickly as I could and measured it against my rod. I've got a
mark at 18". It wasn't 18, but it was easily 16" and as fat as a football.
An easy two pounds. Took a couple of what turned out to be crappy pictures
and let it go. Caught one me smallish rainbow. Nothing after that. Blamed
it on the fight with the brown. Moved on down.

Caught it on a Prince nymph.

That brown is my personal best Virginia trout. Edges out a Chattahoochee
rainbow for best east-of-the-Mississippi.

Bypassed a couple of familiar spots to search for a dry fly spot I
discovered in earlier trips. It was a challenge. I backtracked a few
times, but I finally got to where I wanted. I could see some sulphurs and
March Browns flying around.

Got into the river and waited. I've learned to move into place and hang out
for 5 minutes or so before trying anything. Fish got brains but they are
small brains. Not a lot of memory. Saw a few rises ahead. It looks like
they're going for emerging sulphurs. I look in my box and select a cripple
sulphur comparadun. The cripple is a regular comparadun with some z-lon off
the end which makes it look like the nymph casing is stuck to it.

I put down the first few fish I cast to, so I move up and cast to another
small pod. Catch two browns and a rainbow. Biggest is around 11'.
Smallest may go 9"

I'm fishing the rises ahead of me when I hear one of the fish behind me
making splashy rises. I try to ignore it, but he's making a lot of noise.
The ******* is mocking me. Two more splashes and I've had enough. I toss
the comparadun back there and skate it across his spot. A 6' brown leaps
completely out of the water to take the fly. I laugh the whole time I play,
secure, and release him.

Catch a couple more on the comparadun, then make the long walk back to my
truck. I usually stop at the fish market on the way back, but I'm running
late and have two more crossings to make. I do stop at the last crossing
and catch three rising hornyheads to bring my fish total to 12 on the day.

Back to camp. A bottle of fine Virginia wine while I catch up on my
journal. Bed.

On Sunday, I repeat the previous day's pattern, except I fish Back Creek
Gorge in the early session. No fish. Better scenery. Might be worth
another visit.

After lunch, I drive to the lower parking lot and haul ass for the 1.7 miles
it takes to hike to the swinging bridge. I move upstream looking for
action. I don't see any, so my 2-nymph rig I've got on is the right one.

The Jackson in this area is like a Montana river. Riffles and pools. It's
like a mini-Yellowstone. Not at all like other freestone waters I've seen
in the southeast. There's some good nymphing water in between stretches of
good dry fly water. If there were such a thing as a flyrod caddy, this is
the place to hire one.

I catch a couple of fish. One per small riffle. See some rises. Tie on a
parachute Adams. Catch a couple more.

I spend 30 minutes casting to, then resting a fish that was sitting at the
upstream end of a log laying in the water along a bank. Damned fish kept
missing my fly. Finally give up on it after the 4th miss.

Walking upstream, I come out of a bend to the tail of a long pool. The pool
is about 200 yards long. 40 yards wide. It's past 8. The sun is behind the
ridge. I can still see, but I don't want to stray too far. I see where I
want to climb out of the river for the walk to my truck.

There are fish rising. Maybe 15 within 40 yards of where I'm standing. I
look up and see thousands of spinners in the air. Most look to be March
Browns. Some look to be suplhurs. Some are huge white mayflies with a
thick body. I've got some March Brown spinners that are comparable in size,
but tie on a white Wulff that is easier to see in the gloaming.

I put down the first few I cast to. I'm right behind them and the line
spooks them. I change tactics and catch three to my right. Two browns, one
around 12", one 9". One 9 " rainbow.

I used to thrive on catching fish in the tailouts of pools when I lived in
Georgia, but I've had no luck at all doing the same thing in Virginia, no
matter what water I'm fishing. These are the first tailout fish I've caught
in years. Damned enjoyable fish at that.

Finally get off the water at 8:40. Make it to the swinging bridge in 10
minutes. Make the 1.7 miles back to my truck in about 30 minutes, which
includes some stops to enjoy the darkness. I'm the only person within a 2
mile circle. Didn't do the bear survey.

No moon. Have a beer on the walk back, then another colder one at the truck
while I'm watching the stars come out. Into bed fairly early.

Up the next morning and debate spending another day. Work doesn't draw me
back so much as other places to be the next three weekends. As always, even
after a wet weekend, I sadly pack up my stuff and drive back to northern
Virginia. I'll be back for the Perseids.

This was supposed to be about 4 paragraphs....

John R