Last Tuesday I had the privilege of fishing this legendary stream with Galen Wilkins. Galen has been a trout guide on such Western United States streams as Henry’s Fork, the Snake and the Frying Pan. Despite the knowledge of fly-fishing we may proclaim to have, it’s impossible not to learn more from a man like Galen Wilkins. He modestly denies being a dry fly purist, but when asked about it he admitted a definite preference for drys he replied,
“There’s something about the dry fly that gets in your blood, although I do backslide once in a while and fish with a nymph or a wet fly. I just like to watch that piece of fluff drift perfectly downstream, see that little snout come up, splash, and jerk it under. It’s all visual. I set the hook, my switch of a bamboo rod bends, and the same old thrill comes back again.”
I used a variety of nymphs, including Copper John, Hare’s Ear and Pheasant Tail #16s with about the same luck . At one point I switched to the famed Mr. Rapidan and watched its yellow hackle get hit after hit from the tiny dace inhabiting the pools. I spent quite some time flipping minnows from my hook, until I finally cast Mr. Rapidan onto a deep green sluice sliding past a boulder. It got an instant hit, but the water was moving too fast for a hookup. Switching to a beadhead Pheasant Tail, I dapped it under the boulder at that same spot and caught two brookies around eight inches apiece. Galen was having good success with a light Elk Hair Caddis, at one point hooking a 10-incher in the rapids, large for these Shenandoah Park streams. An occasional 14-inch brookie is caught here, but the average size resembles the eight inchers I was catching.
It’s difficult to write about a stream like the Rapidan which has been so eulogized over the years. Wading into the first pool where Staunton Run joins it, I felt as though I was knee-deep in history. In 1928 President Herbert Hoover decided he wanted a getaway on a trout stream, within 100 miles of Washington and above the mosquito line of 2,500 feet. The site his aide selected was the upper section of the Rapidan now known as Camp Hoover, although the Hoovers called it Rapidan Camp. I fished at the camp in the early '90s and all that remained of the elaborate complex were a few empty buildings, some overgrown gardens and a series of historical markers at the sites of former glory. The Hoover residence plus two other cabins have been recently restored and the camp is a now a historical landmark for touring by park visitors.
I didn’t find the fishing around the Hoover Camp all that good. There at the headwaters the Rapidan is only around 6 feet wide with only a few small pools. Legend has it that President Hoover sat on his porch and cast into the stream, but at 90 feet that was one heck of a cast. It’s more likely he cast into the trout pool he had built there.
The Rapidan is listed among Trout Unlimited’s 100 best trout streams in America. At least one admirer believes it to be the absolute best, but in my opinion it gets some stiff competition from other Shenandoah Park streams such as the Rose, the Hughes and Whiteoak Canyon Run. But there is little argument about the Rapidan being the most breathtakingly scenic of the lot. Galen and I hiked upstream a mile before we began fishing, and the farther upstream we went, the better the fishing, a typical trait of the park streams. At one point I saw him perched on a refrigerator-sized boulder, rod aside, smoking his pipe and just drinking in the glory of untouched forest surrounding us. But we both agreed that one of the prime reasons for fishing these little mountain “rivers” are the rare sights and sounds which reward us.
As we neared the Hoover Camp the fishing tapered off, and we saw very little insect life among the huge boulders. We had our best luck earlier in the plunge pools along the stretch before the trail fords the stream. This was once a road, now closed, and Harry Murray reported years ago seeing a wealth of mufflers and tailpipes strewn along the roadside. In fact, he writes about being stuck in the ford and having to hike out miles to get a tow.
Galen and I agreed it was a plus having the road blocked off to make the Rapidan more isolated. Last Tuesday, we had the entire stream to ourselves, with the exception of a few hikers passing by. This was a weekday -- another reason for the dearth of fishermen may be the dense summer overgrowth that screens the stream from the trail. This is also prime timber rattler country, a protected species in the park, and it’s not everyone’s cup of tea to bushwhack along the Rapidan. We were careful to make plenty of noise and to part the brush with a walking stick before we stepped toward the stream.
This is exclusively a wild brook trout stream, and it’s heartening to observe that the rainbows and browns haven’t encroached upstream. Like most Shenandoah Park streams, only barbless single-hook artificial lures and flies are allowed here and it’s strictly catch-and-release. I’m told that a red, white and blue attractor fly called the Patriot is successful on the Rapidan, although I didn’t have one in my fly box. Any small, high visibility patterns that float well will be effective dry flies here. I preferred my #2 six-foot rod with a 6X tippet. And it’s a good idea to fish a 12-foot leader, as these fish have seen a lot of tackle before.
To reach the lower section of the Rapidan take U.S. 29 north out of Charlottesville. At Shelby, turn left onto Rt. 662 and follow it to the parking lot at the end. There you’ll see large boulders blocking the trail at the entrance to the Shenandoah Park. At Wolftown it gets a little confusing, as 662 dead ends into Rt. 230 and you have to jog left to where it continues on the right past the Wolftown general store. At Graves Mill 662 again turns off to the right and follows the Rapidan.
