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 Thursday I heard news on the Weather Channel of hurricanes Bonnie and Charlie roiling the atmosphere in the south Caribbean. They didn’t sound like threats to Henry County, so I called the Corps of Engineers number (276-629-2432). The recorded voice informed me that power generating water releases were taking place between 4 a.m. and 6 a.m. all week long. So with a late morning start I would not be threatened by a three-foot wall of water bearing down on me.

I elected to fish the regulated section of the Smith River, below the Bassett mirror plant. Walking down to the river I came across a lean farmer pulling weeds in his bean patch. He looked like a reader of the Farmer’s Almanac, so I asked him, “Do you think it’ll rain?”

He looked up, shaking his head, and replied, “I’m told it’s going to rain and rain and rain.”

Looking at the sky I could see a low-lying cloud ceiling, but nothing that looked wet. After all, the Farmer’s Almanac could be wrong. So I cached my walking shoes behind a tree and put on chest waders. The Smith River was shrouded in the heavy mist frequently caused here by a contrast of the cold water with warm ambient air. I could hear the voices of fishermen downstream and squinting hard I glimpsed their dim figures through the fog.

The river was glass-clear and calm where I waded in, which is one of its disadvantages. Long stretches of tranquil water such as this causes even the most cautious wader to spook these wily fish. I tried a #16 Blue Wing Olive, without success. There was only one small rise near a log at the opposite bank so I approached it as quietly as possible and cast to the spot. Nothing.

Moving downstream to a series of rapids around boulders, I switched to a Copper John, which has been working well for me on other streams. But not on the Smith. At the head of one deep hole I worked it along the seam without a hit. About that time I noticed a sprinkling of raindrops hitting the water. Good, I thought. Maybe that’ll stir up a little feeding activity. To the south I could hear some muttering of thunder and about then the rain started coming down harder. I looked downstream wistfully, giving up with regret the two miles of productive water I had intended to fish that day. The rain was pelting down in sheets and by now the thunder reminded me of my Grandpa Pedro’s saying, “ ’Tater wagons are a-rollin’.”

When I reached the oak tree where I had placed my walking shoes they each held half a pint of rain water. I was reminded of another of Grandpa’s phrases, “Frog Strangler.” It was one of those tropical rains which made you imagine that inhaling too deeply would strangle you. I could barely make out the outline of the mirror plant in the distance as I started across the cornfield. All of a sudden the sky cracked open above me and a bolt of lightning flashed across the field horizontally 50 yards ahead. I later told Cathy I didn’t realize I could recite the 23rd Psalm in its entirety, but at that moment I did it. What a relief to crawl inside my vehicle with four round rubber insulators beneath me!

I resolved to return to the Smith on a more tranquil day, since cold water releases from Philpott Dam furnish 20 miles of summertime fishing. From Town Creek downstream to Bassett only single hook artificial lures are permitted and a daily limit of two fish per day at least 16 inches long is in effect. Fish that size are unusual these days, and the rainbows usually run around 10 inches. From the Town of Bassett downstream to Martinsville the largest fish are found. Robert Bryant calls these downtown rainbows “industrial strength trout.”

To reach the regulated stretch, turn right at the Oak Level sign onto Virginia 674 and follow it to the Bassett Mirror Plant, where you are allowed to park outside the fence next to the railroad tracks. The regulated stretch of the Smith River is about a quarter of a mile from there.