Richard Formato

Richard Formato is an avid catch-and-release fly-fisherman from Wytheville, Va. When not on the water, he operates a small business there. Formato loves to fly-fish in his native Southwest Virginia because of the great water and wonderful people. He also loves to fish the flats and shallows of the Gulf of Mexico and Atlantic whenever work and weather permit. He is on the Department of Conservation and Recreation's board of directors and is a trustee of the Shenandoah National Forest and Skyline Drive.

Recent columns

• What about Bob?
• Notes from the Charlotte Fly Show
• A chance meeting
• A wish for Jack

• Column archive
• Talk fly-fishing

It is a great honor to be chosen to write the fly-fishing column for roanoke.com.

I always looked forward to Harry Slone’s column, because no matter how much you think you know about fly-fishing, there is always something to learn.

My name is Richard Formato, and I live in Wytheville, Va. My love of small towns, and the great outdoors, led to my move from Roanoke several years ago.

I hope you will enjoy traveling with me as we chase wild trout from the Tennessee tail waters to the Eastern Slope of the Shenandoah. I hope you will come with me as we stalk bone fish in the middle bight of Andros, night snook fish the docks of Midnight Pass, look for busting Albie’s off Harker’s Island, float the New and the James in search of bronze backs, climb house-size boulders on Big Wilson Creek, and marvel at the beauty of the white tipped fins on the wild rainbows on the Jackson.

Along the way, I hope you feel a kinship with some of my mentors and teachers. You will hear a lot about the Reverend Bobby, Blane (the young Roy Hobbs of fly-fishing), Bruce, M.H., Dover, Wysor, Captain Chris, Cornflake and David.

Next to my family and yellow labs, the sport of fly-fishing is my true love. It has kept me sane through the toughest times, and it has made humble when I was at my most arrogant.

Instead of a net, I carry a trash bag, a camera, a friendly attitude, and low expectations.

For me, fly-fishing is all about the fishing. Catching a fish is just a bonus. As long as I leave the water in better condition than I found it, it’s a decent day.

Southwest Virginia is a terrific place for fly-fishing. We have thousands of miles of wild trout and bass water. We have spawning 20-inch wild trout in 2-foot wide spring creeks. We have reproducing fry’s flashing like lightning bugs. We have monster small mouth bass. And scattered about, we have farm ponds, and warm water fisheries that are loaded with chain pickerel, muskie, fall fish, bream, rock bass and perch.

In every county here, there are unbelievable places to fly-fish, and we will go there together.

You will see bald eagles on The New River Trail, taste the huckleberries in Grayson Highlands State Park, and squint at the shafts of light shooting through the ash trees beside Rowland’s Creek. You will be amazed at Virginia’s rare wild orchids, the mink, huge butterflies -- and gigantic carp that scare the life out of you just when you think you are all alone.

We will smile as we kneel down to gently release a small native brook trout.

We will feel the disappointment when we see trash and broken glass in a blue Wal-Mart bag in 15 feet of clear water on the edge of Laurel Bed Lake.

We will discuss why someone would put a truck tire in the James.

We will feel frustration when you see a wild fish dying on the bank because a fellow angler caught him, threw him on the rocks, and just walked away.

We will also understand our joy when we see a young child release his first fish and wave good-bye.

We will laugh at ourselves when we bury three flies in row in the same overhang.

We will branch out, put on our wading booties, load up on SPF 50, roll down our sleeves and pants on a 90 degree day in the Bahamas.

We will wade with our Bahamian guide Ezra, and squinch for tailing bonefish near the mangroves.

As he muds towards you, we will poke a black tipped shark with our fly rod. Waiting for the cloud of sand to clear, and waiting to catch our breath, we will stand still for a few minutes until we see a small school of “gray ghosts” that emerge and vaporize in an instant.

We will feel utter exhaustion and awe as a 100 pound Tarpon rolls over our fly line and lazily swims off after an hour fight.

These trips will just be a start of a dialogue and relationship that I hope will lead us deeper into understanding fly-fishing and each other.

Like any day on the water, I am so thrilled to be here with you today.

I can’t wait to put it in 4-wheel drive, head off road, and travel to the rushing water with you.

I can’t wait to hear your impressions of the latest in fly rods, the new technologies, and discuss the latest fly patterns and materials. I want to know what kind of polarized sunglasses you are using, how long a leader you are normally use on a high mountain stream, and what your best and worst days are like.

It will be great to pop the hatch and share each other’s lives, as we kick off our shoes, slip on our waders, lace up our wading boots, and unpack our fly rods.

One of the best times of the day is beside the stream gearing up, just yakking.

“Hey, you see that, up there, that’s a blue winged olive!”

“No, I didn’t. Look over there, right there, near that rock at the end of that riffle. See that, that’s a rise!”

Let’s fish!