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

Last Wednesday I drove to the Little Schuylkill River in the New Ringgold Valley of Schuylkill County, Pennsylvania. This stream has been awarded Scenic River status, which is given to only the most beautiful Pennsylvania waters, and in this case well deserved.

Driving across the bridge just before the Wilderness Trekker Fly Shop, I observed that the water was high, gray-green and ominously swift. Although I was a resident of Pennsylvania for 18 years, I have yet to adjust to the difference between their streams and those of Southwest Virginia. It’s a land of big waters. What they call “creeks” are the size of our Roanoke and Jackson rivers. And the “Little” Schuylkill was all of 60 feet across and flowing hell-bent down the mountain.

There is a down side, however. Some of these streams are crystal clear because of the absence of all life forms because of unmonitored manufacturers’ discharge or mine acid. And at one time some were discolored to the point they were called “black creeks.”. Coal was king in Schuylkill County, and nobody questioned what mine runoff was doing to the streams as long as the money poured in.

Years ago the Little Schuylkill was one such abused waterway, and it wasn’t until the 1970s that reports cropped up of people beginning to catch trout from that river. Drastic changes have occurred in Schuylkill County, with the advent of strict mine-sewage regulations. An organization called the Little Schuylkill Conservation Club stocks the stream from the town of Tamaqua upstream. They dump tons of limestone into the tributaries and constantly monitor water quality.

I stopped at the fly shop and talked with Tim, the manager of the Wilderness Trekker, Lehigh Gap Outfitters. He informed me that a two-mile stretch of the Little Schuylkill just below New Ringgold is stocked by the state with browns. There are a few rainbows, holdovers from spawning in the tributaries. Tim sold me a pink and white fly called The Strip Tease, which didn’t catch me any fish despite the attractive name. I guess he saw my Virginia license plate coming.

Twenty-nine varieties of aquatic insects have been observed hatching on the Little Schuykill, including 10 different versions of Caddis. Tim informed me that the sulfur hatch feeding frenzy in early spring exposed just how many trout swam beneath the surface of this two-mile delayed harvest stretch. But this was the mid-August terrestrial season, and nothing was flying. So I tied on a massive sculpin streamer Tim gave me and took his advice to add five split shot to my leader. He said, “Steelhead fishing has made me a real split shot believer.”

I objected to the split shot at first because of all the tippets they had cost me by hanging up on the bottom. “I have the answer to that,” he said. “A trick I learned steelhead fishing. When you tie your tippet to the leader, leave a couple inches of tags hanging out. Then you clamp your shot on these, so when your shot hangs up you’ll just lose the tags, not your whole rig.” Sounded logical.

The water temperature was a crisp 56 degrees, partially because of the recent heavy rains and somewhat because of the cool summer in eastern Pennsylvania. I waded out beneath a huge overhanging hemlock at an old picnic ground. At mid-stream I realized a huge mistake had been made here. My wading staff was shaking like it had the ague, and I began to join it, as the current was foot-jerking strong. Turning back to the bank was nigh impossible, and I began to shuffle in a circle a fraction of an inch at a time until I headed shoreward. Half an hour later I took a deep breath and set foot on dry land. It occurred to me that I let myself get into these “adventurous” situations all too often for a 74-year-old, and could probably film a serial entitled “The Perils of Harry.” I promised Cathy I’d exercise a modicum of caution in the future.

The brown trout that dominate the Little Schuylkill are not particularly large, averaging 12 to 14 inches, although Tim assured me there were some shovel-tails that are hardly ever caught. They lurk beneath overhanging banks all day and only come out to feed at night.

The Little Schuylkill is a six-hour drive from Roanoke, then south from Pottsville on Route 61, turning east on Route 895 to Little Ringgold. Tim listed 10 additional premier trout streams within a 30-mile radius: the Lehigh, Pine Creek, Bear Creek and seven others. If you make that long jaunt north, I suggest you allow enough time to explore a selection of these rather than just one.