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
• Not so Rusty

• Column archive
• Talk fly-fishing

My son Jack was born a little over a year ago. With his arrival, I hope for the day we will fish as father and son.

Even though little Jack is years away from his first trip, I wonder what our time will be like when I am old and gray and he is young and tireless. I wonder what we will talk about, have in common and how much influence my love of fly-fishing will have on him.

Fishing acts as a time tunnel back to our youth. We all started as kids, when the days were hot and the water was a dark green farm pond at the bottom of the hill.

Fishing was a summer sport back then, because it came with a bike, a fresh pair of sneakers and a cheap spinning pole robbed from the garage. Back then, there was opening day. Anglers of all ages stood shoulder-to-shoulder, converged on the same run and hoped to rodeo a waiting trout.

It was a social occasion where granddads reunited with their old friends after a long winter and show off their young ‘uns.

How times have changed.

Even though “Trout Heritage Days” are observed on certain waters the first weekend in April, they are not the same. Nothing is.

The days of walking the banks of your neighbor’s farm have evaporated like the pastures off the interstate exits. The loose chain of waters that used to link us is slowly being broken.

In 50 years, when I am gone, what will southwest Virginia look like? Will the Holston still have one wild fish per running foot? Will the Jackson still have those marauding Browns?

Will valley fishing consist of “pay to fish” stocked streams as predicted by Bob Clouser, with gigantic membership fees? Will the state and national forests require reservations for fishing privileges?

Count on it.

In 50 years, at the current 14 percent rate of growth over the last 10 years, there will be 15 million people in the Commonwealth. Wytheville will become a suburb of Blacksburg. Where will the new interstates go? Where will the gas and electric lines go?

It’s a scary thought of what can happen to Virginia in my lifetime, let alone Jack’s. I have often said that one of the best parts of fly-fishing is the commute.

Last weekend, I drove down I-77 past farms and fields. I glided over the New River looking past Ed Jennings’s farm to see how the flow was affected from the North Carolina side. I drove up 221 past the Dugspur Mart, and turned off a dirt road to Mira Fork.

When I arrived, I was already in a good mood. The cell service was gone, the air was clean and the gin-clear stream was waiting for me.

All I wish for is a Commonwealth that is as spectacular for Jack as it is for me.

I want my son, and all children, to enjoy the Virginia we have today. I want us to wake up and realize that what we have will be gone and changed forever.

I want Jack to have the opportunity to be outside enjoying “his time” with the same gratitude his old man had for a clean and free Virginia.

Maybe, he will see a rising wild trout and think of me.