Bill Cochran

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Just as Al Kittredge was about to wade into the Smith River and cast hand-tied flies to golden-hewed, native-born brown trout, he spotted something that would put a damper on his day.

A poacher.

Kittredge operates the Smith River Guide Service, but this outing he simply was fishing for the joy of the sport on his favorite stream. He drives up from his home in North Carolina and spends time in a cabin near the river.

The Smith contains three miles of special-regulations fishing, where the emphasis is on sport, not meat. This is where Kittredge and most fly anglers spend their time. Only artificial lures with a single hook can be used and there is a 16-inch minimum-size limit and two-per-day catch limit. This helps assure a steady supply of stream-spawned browns.

Kittredge was starting his day at the lower end of the special-regulations area, in Bassett, at Virginia 666 Bridge. Nearby is a sign marking the boundary of the restricted section. The sign has been there as long as Kittredge can remember, and he has fished the river for more than 15 years.

“I looked over the bridge rail and observed a fisherman about 75 yards away on the upstream side of the sign,” said Kittredge. “As I watched, he was placing a fish on a stringer that contained several other fish. I doubted that the fish had exceeded 16 inches and, even if it had, he was certainly over his two-fish limit.”

When the man spotted Kittredge he immediately faced upstream with his back to him.

“How ya’ doing,” Kittredge shouted.

The man ignored the greeting, but after several shouts he turned to face Kittredge. He meekly replied that he had caught a few fish and there were lots of others fining about in the pool in front of him.

“You know you can’t keep them on this side of the bridge, don’t you,” said Kittredge.

“No, I didn’t know that,” the man said.

“You have two choices,” Kittredge told him. “You can get out of the river right now or you can stand your ground and I will call the game warden.”

With a mumble, the man pulled in what appeared to be worms or Power Bait and proceeded to wade down stream, under the bridge and past the sign marking the special-regulations section.

“As he passed, I counted five good-size fish on his stringer,” said Kittredge, who made certain that the man saw the sign.

“This encounter put a damper on what was otherwise a beautiful weekend,” said Kittredge. “In hindsight, I should have tried to call the game warden. I fished and did well, but could not keep from thinking about the rule-breaker.”

In the 1970s, the Smith River, below Philpott Dam, was widely known as one of the best trophy brown trout streams in the nation, producing a state-record 18-pound, 11-ounce giant.

The big fish are gone, following a period when the fishery suffered through a multitude of problems: antiquated generating equipment in Philpott Dam, harsh generation periods that destroy spawning areas, temperature-stressed trout, the disappearance of forage fish.

The U.S. Army Crops of Engineers is in the process of setting up a study to investigate the situation, but that is going to be a long and expensive affair. One thing that can be controlled, right away, is the poaching situation, something that has persisted through the years, said Kittredge.

“The Smith River has many problems, some of them may be unfixable, but the proliferation of poachers and the lack of law enforcement should not be one of them,” he said.