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

Years ago the Reader’s Digest ran a feature called “The Most Unforgettable Character I’ve Met.” My choice would be John Bass, friend and fellow dedicated fly-fisherman. John is a near-quadraplegic, with enough will power in his right arm to make pretty good casts with a No. 6 fly rod all day long.

Sometimes I believe he has to pay for it later with excruciating discomfort. When I think I’m having a tough day, I find inspiration in reflecting upon how John copes. I recently witnessed him in action on Johns Creek, hauling in some prodigious rainbows. John felt inspired to put that experience into an e-mail, and part of it is offered here:

“As I s-curved down the mountainside out of the Jefferson National Forest, I knew my friend Harry Slone had hit a home run. There before me lay the lushest of green pastures with three miles of diamond sparkling trout stream flowing through them. We had arrived at Bob Ratliff’s 1,700-acre farm at Maggie and some of the best blue ribbon rainbow fishing in this part of Virginia. Even if we hadn’t caught fish, meeting Bob was worth the trip -- a true Southern gentleman.

"It was a warm and sunny autumn day when my constant companion James, guide Bill Nuckels and I drove out to streamside, ready for an afternoon of fishing. Bob was showing us the best pools, when Harry Slone arrived to share an afternoon of streamlashing.

"We started off at a hole beside a level meadow, which is just the ticket for a fellow in a chair. Bill Nuckels suggested we begin with a brown Wooly Bugger, which turned out to be the fly of the day. I cast and retrieved across the confluence of two streams where it is at least five feet deep. I took Bob’s suggestion and let the Bugger ride the current and tail out toward the seam.

"On my first cast I had a fish on that just about took the rod from my hand. Boy, did that big fish have his way! And after a few minutes of head shaking and reel screaming, he shook loose. Bob estimated it was a good seven pounds. Harry tried to make me feel better by pointing out that if you see the fish and have a ‘spontaneous release’ it’s a catch. I caught several more fish in the three to five pound range and moved downstream after stirring these fish up.

"Near the picnic table Bill caught several really nice fish. Harry decided to joint up and put on a grossly exaggerated Chernoble Ant. On his first cast he had a tremendous strike and missed, hanging his fly up in a tree, attributing that non-professorial behaviour to the excitement he always feels at the first tug of a big fish. He then missed, caught and spontaneously released a series of fish, accompanied by Bill Nuckels’s not-so-flattering chatter from up on the bank. Having enough of Bill’s diatribe, he moved on downstream and landed a five-pounder for our benefit, after which he put away his rod and observed us enjoying the action.

"I eased down to the stream where several pods of up to 10 fish lay under the shelter of a sycamore branch. On my second cast the indicator disappeared. I set the hook and the fight was on. A nice four-pound fish leaped repeatedly and tested my Martin reel by stripping line several times. Minutes later Bill slid the net under this beautiful fish long enough for a snapshot. Each time we landed a fish we would yell at Harry, who pretended deafness.

Bill then tested his skills by hooking a series of lunker rainbows, yelling each time, and I lost count after 10 fish. After catching seven fish myself, I was convinced that the fish here were too stirred up to strike. WRONG. Bill proceeded to catch four fish where I had been casting, using his patented twitch of the Bugger I have been unable to figure out. But it makes them want to strike.

The fish in the pool had moved to the lower end and it took a longer cast for the Bugger to tail farther down. After finally playing out the right amount of line and catching a couple of fish, I hooked into my fish of the day. It took seven minutes to work the fish up to Bill’s net where we weighed and measured it: 25 inches and seven pounds and colored like a rainbow after a summer rain.

"What a way to end the day -- beautiful weather, beautiful fish and great friends. After a pleasant dinner with Harry and his wife, Cathy, we turned in for the evening with dreams of the next day’s adventures at Maggie.”

In a later column I’ll let him relate that second day’s happenings, as there’s not enough space here. John allowed that he really had wanted to get to Maggie. You can, too: Take Virginia 311 to New Castle, you turn left there onto Virginia 42 and follow it to state route 958 on which you take a right. Follow that down a road that would break a blacksnake’s back and you come to Maggie.

For more details on this private fishing stream, click here.