Sunday, August 10, 2008
Angling through a rock garden
Mark Taylor
Mark Taylor's Outdoors column and notebook appears regularly in The Roanoke Times.
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FRIES -- "Hold on."
These are not words you welcome when you're in a raft in a gnarly rock garden in one of Virginia's biggest rivers and your hands are already busy, in this case trying to reel in a smallmouth bass.
"Hold on with what?" you wonder.
The warning came from my brother, Greg, who was on the oars as the raft bounced, rocked and scooted through the upper part of Double Shoals, a massive hazard to navigation on the New River between Fries and Byllesby Dam.
And it was a warning that wasn't unexpected.
We pretty much knew what we were getting into when we came here for the sixth stop on my eight-week Summer Smallmouth Tour of some of Virginia's most intriguing and inviting bass waters.
I knew I couldn't do the project without making at least one trip on the New, which is far and away Virginia's best smallmouth river.
But I had hoped to avoid the river's busiest stretch from Claytor Dam downstream to the West Virginia line.
That stretch offers phenomenal fishing, for sure, and it's hugely popular because of it.
I wanted something up or down. Someplace I'd never tried.
Enter Rob England.
England is an aspiring fishing guide who lives in Harrisburg, N.C, near Charlotte. He still works full time in Food Lion's corporate offices, but has started running a few trips on the James, New and Maury rivers on his days off.
While we were talking about the James River over the phone, England mentioned that he was intrigued by the Double Shoals section of the New between Fries and Byllesby Dam.
He'd run it once years ago as a passenger on a raft, and now that he had his own raft he wanted to run some scouting missions before attempting any commercial trips.
The Smallmouth Tour is supposed to be about adventure. What could be more adventurous than a scouting mission on a mysterious, intimidating, potentially dangerous float trip?
And it certainly didn't hurt that the fishing seemed to hold promise.
For example, in his book "The New River Guide," Bruce Ingram said the bass were so aggressive in the Double Shoals area (when he floated it in a raft with a pro guide) it seemed as though they'd never seen a lure before.
"Can I come?" I asked.
We met at 8 a.m. at the public boat launch in Fries, a quaint little former mill town that now serves as a gateway to the south end of the New River Trail.
A small johnboat was already on the river, about 100 yards downstream.
"They're going to run Double Shoals in that?" I asked England.
He laughed.
"I'm sure they're going to take out at the 606 bridge," he said.
To the bridge the river is tame, wide and fairly shallow. We were on our way and fishing it about an hour later, after shuttling England's rig to the take-out at Byllesby Pool.
The upper water seemed fishy enough, but the action was slow for me and Greg, who was visiting from his home in Oregon.
Johnson joked that we just had to wait for "the hatch," which became the theme of the day.
Before reaching the bridge, Greg asked if he could give the 13-foot raft a try. Used to rowing a 12-foot two-man pontoon on big Western rivers, Greg wanted to see how the raft felt.
England was happy to give up the oars and actually fish, something he's doesn't get to do much of now.
"Really, the only time I've fished all year was when I was on vacation with my son," said Johnson, a 44-year-old Ohio native who fell in love with Virginia's smallmouth streams while attending Ferrum College.
Action started picking up in the run leading into Double Shoals.
Senkos were the ticket. I fished mine weightless on a worm hook while England was bouncing his on the bottom on a football head jig.
And then the shoals started.
England and I were happy to keep fishing while Greg did all the work.
And it was work.
The river was flowing only about 600 cubic feet per second that day, far below normal.
That had advantages and disadvantages.
The disadvantage was that the run was bony as heck so sometimes even the best shot down a drop had barely enough water to float the raft. We did plenty of bouncing around, hence Greg's frequent warnings to hold tight.
The big advantage was that you would really have to screw up to end up swimming.
Clearly, that would not be the case in normal flows.
This seemingly endless rock garden is a maze of giant boulders, shelves and drop-offs. It's solid Class II stuff for more than a mile, and at higher flows much of it would be in the Class III neighborhood.
In short, this isn't the place for recreational canoeists or kayakers. Even rafters and pontoon boat drivers should have plenty of experience.
Greg, with his years of running Class III and IV water, grimaced at the idea of running Double Shoals at meatier levels.
England, having seen Double Shoals from the back of the boat, said he's still intrigued by the idea of running trips on the section, though it's something he won't try before more scouting, this time with oars in hand.
So how about those bass that had never seen a lure before?
Well, the fishing definitely picked up through the Double Shoals area. But while the action was solid, it wasn't markedly better than the fishing I've had elsewhere on the New. In all we picked up a couple of dozen smallmouths, the largest maybe 14 inches long. Admittedly, we were able to hit just a tiny fraction of the fishy-looking water in the section.
You don't have to run the rapids to enjoy the fishing, or the pretty scenery.
The New River Trail runs along the river and offers some wade-fishing access to anglers willing to put in a little time on foot or on bikes from a parking area near Byllesby Dam.
We saw four fishermen wade-fishing the lower end of the shoals.
Waders will be limited in the areas they can reach, especially at higher flows.
As the shoals seemed to be easing up I volunteered to take the oars so Greg could fish.
The lower part of the run isn't quite as difficult as the top but was still no picnic, and the next 30 minutes worked me over good.
Greg and England caught a few more fish before we hit the quiet pool that backs up behind Byllesby Dam.
From there it's about a mile of flat water rowing to the public Byllesby Pool take-out, and I was happy to bail on that effort less than half way down the lake and give the oars back to England.
As he pulled us toward the ramp it became even more clear why this section doesn't get much water traffic.
Not only is there the danger factor and the requirement for special skills and gear, but this solitude and scenery comes with a price, and that price is hard, physical effort.
When you pull up on the shore at Byllesby Pool, you will have earned every fish you caught.
