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

Grayson Highlands State Park is a 4,822 acre state park in a frontier part of the commonwealth that is rare, endangered, and unique in a thousand ways.

Most of Grayson Highlands is at 5,000 feet or higher and it possesses a micro-climate more like Colorado than Virginia.

With outcroppings of volcanic rock, Grayson Highlands is a showcase of waterfalls, rugged mountains, far-off views, hand placed rock fences and open meadows. It is home to wild mountain trout, agrarian ponies, and the floral and fauna that can tough it out at 5,000 feet elevation.

When I loaded up two of my yellow labs and left Wytheville on Saturday, it was almost 70 degrees outside and cloudy.

When I arrived at Grayson’s entrance at 3,700 feet elevation an hour later, it was misting rain and 48 degrees.

A hearty patch on snow in the meadow at Massey’s Gap was our only consort as we pulled in.

Patting the boys on the head, I rigged up my 8-foot, 4-weight Sage Fli, suited up, and headed down the Cabin Creek Trail.

Starting downward, you fall though a dark tunnel of wild mountain laurel and rhododendron to a steep decline through hardwood forest of American beech, yellow birch, sugar maple, American mountain ash, northern red oak and spruce and fir.

Criss-crossing creeks and stair-stepping down the trail, the roar of waters starts to annex your senses.

There was a feeling of hesitation.

I was out of my element, and in the grips of a bedimmed climate in a province that could be unforgivable.

The trees were not even budding and I could see all the way down to dark strip that was Cabin Creek.

I checked my watch and made sure I budgeted time for a hike out before dark.

As I neared the water, I could immediately see the difference that makes a clean mountain stream.

The blows of water off the falls and chutes had an iridescent blue color that only the cleanest water possesses.

The small holding pools at Cabin Creek were a dark green and clear to the bottom.

However, you will not “see” any fish at Cabin Creek.

If you are quiet, stealthy and can roll cast a nice loop, you will catch and release some beautiful brook trout.

Wild trout fishing is a mystical, spiritual experience that is confirmed by being the only person on a stream you have to work to get to -- while having the sense of perspective to fish.

But with those bigger stocked rainbows comes trash, junked cars on the roads to Grayson Highlands -- and on this weekend, many other fishermen all clumped up together.

With 2.1 miles of fishable water on Cabin Creek, it was hard to know where to start first.

Starting with small Copper John nymph, rigged with a pinch of soft weight, and bio strike, I roll-cast into the plunge pools and quietly worked my way upstream.

Not catching a fish, I changed to small bead head pheasant tail, and tried again.

Not a strike, even after moving upward through some terrific pools and some good controlled drifts.

I switched to large Elk Hair caddis, based on seeing a lone fly, and the fact that I wanted the fish with a dry fly, so I could see my drifts.

On my first cast into the same pool, I caught my first brook trout.

It’s weird how you cannot catch a fish, then by simply switching flies, start getting swats and takes.

Releasing the fish with TLC, I could not believe how beautiful and fragile it was. Scarlet red, with ruby red fins, and purple specs and halos, you almost feel badly for hooking this testament of God’s creation.

The brook trout, which is the state fish, have inhabited our streams for over 10,000 years.

Brook trout are only found in cold-water streams from Northern Georgia to Canada, but are mainly located the Appalachians.

People may wonder how you can feel so passionate about hooking a 6-inch fish, but with a fly rod, the feisty brookie, caught in a tight mountain stream, is what fly-fishing is all about.

There is something divine that I can’t quite explain about fishing for native brook trout.

Certainly, I am so grateful we have streams like this.

And, I am so grateful God made such a dazzling fish.

But, it is also the respect I have for the species.

The brook trout is a hearty breed, surviving a variety of predators, including otter, mink, coon, heron and man, who is decimating its habitat via acid rain, logging and development.

According to John Ross, president of Virginia TU, the brook trout is an indicator species. When it is gone, the stream is usually dead.

But, thanks to the protection of the Virginia Department of Conservation and Recreation, Grayson Highlands hosts five wild trout streams.

As a result, Grayson Highlands State Park is the Virginia state park for fly-fishing.

Up trail, and almost to the wagging tails of my patient companions, I was cold, wet, tired … and sad to leave.