Virginia Is For Lovers…And Those That Love Fish…But Not For Those That Want To Make Love To Fish…That’s Just Weird

4 Dec

This is the first fishing report I have posted in a while so bear with me as I  purge the literary demons.  A few months back we got a call on the Bent Rod phone (similar to the bat phone, but it’s pink and when it rings it makes the sound of trout screaming…kind of creepy now that I think about it) from Dave Hise down at Caster’s Fly Shop to shoot a promo video for his shop and guide service.  Last Sunday I dragged my self away from Turkey leftovers and met up with Dave and the boys at the Long John Silvers in Lebanon, VA (which much to my delight had none of the Islamic extremism that it’s middle eastern counterpart is so well known for).  Dave has access and guides on some great private water up that way and we had it to ourselves for the better part of two days.  

I am going to go ahead and preempt the shit storm that I know is now a brewin’.

Pay to play is for rich assholes that can’t catch real fish on a real river.

I would rather not fish then fish to stocked pellet hogs.

Those douche bags at Bent Rod (Especially Ryan and Murphy…Dave’s cool) always fish private water because they got touched by Captain Kangaroo and Mr. Rogers as young boys.

After the Hopper video I heard it all, and after long and careful deliberation on the matter I have come to a conclusion;  fuck off.  I mean this in the nicest way “Fuck Off” can be conveyed but seriously, fuck off.  I personally do not earn enough money to fish pay to play as I am a graduate student and a guide nor do I personally think that catching huge stocked trout is the fly fishing equivalent of making sweet love to TV’s Tiffany Amber Thieeson.  I also do not find it necessary to poop on everybody elses’ parade while cowering behind the computer in my mother’s basement.  Our position is simple, if you invite us to go fish and film a promo video, we will go fish and film a promo video and we will probably thank you for inviting us afterwords.  As far as everything else goes, in the end it’s just fishing and there are lot  more worthy outlets for your internet ire (I heard a rumor that they might be canceling Ugly Betty…why don’t you go give those guys shit…we are all full here).

With that out of the way we can now progress to more important matters like the fishing.  The first day was on Big Cedar Creek which for some reason had not received the biblical rains that the rest of the mountains have gotten and was running low and gin clear.  These conditions made it easy to spot the rainbows but a little tricky to fish to them as they saw us and our ogre like manners coming from a mile a away.   The morning started a little slow and got slower as the day went on.  We all caught fish in the 18″ to 21″ range before the fishing died off at the end of the day.  Double digit big fish is usually a day that warrants merry ass slapping and beer drinking but we hadn’t put a hogzilla trout in the net or on film yet and in the end that’s what we were all there for.

The night was spent regaling each other with outright lies and falsehoods all while sizing each other up for the late night pillow fight we all knew was inevitable (Dave won by the way…who thinks to put bricks in the pillowcase…genius).  The next morning we were awakened by the sound of the treacherous monsoon that had settled over Lebanon like stink on a two day old dog turd.  We put on all of our layers (including my unmentionables) and outerwear and headed to the Little River.  The Little River did not have the numbers that Big Cedar did but was bigger water and rumors about 20 lb. trout were being thrown around in the same manner that I used to describe my girlfriend I met at the beach that summer, you know the Canadian one.  We got to the Little where we found the trout to be as put off by the change in the pressure as we were. Trout upwards of 15lb. were spotted, fished to, and cursed.  That is accept for Murphy, who low holed me and caught two good fish out of a hole that I was on my way to fish.  This overt act of hole terrorism did not go unnoticed and Murphy was immediately placed on my list of the ten people that are most deserving to be kicked by me in the junk (number two with a bullet…number one is the guy that came up with those frickin’ Gap commercials with the chanting reminiscent of the mind control tactics used by cult leaders in the eighties). We headed back to the Big Cedar to dry off, eat lunch, and regroup.  We decided to finish out the day on the Big Cedar which turned out to be the right decision as the streamer bite was on like Donkey Kong.  The rest of the day was spent stirring up the resident trout into a furor teasing them with various white meat.After a couple of days of getting to know Dave I can now say he has the steel nerves of an Ice Road Trucker and the soft hands of a fine haberdasher.  

Dave put me on some flies of his own creation that can only be described as the finest junk food in the vending machine and has changed the way I look at my own life let alone tying. Seriously he’s a really soulful tier, much like Patrick Swayze’s character in  Point Break, Road House, and Dirty Dancing all rolled into one bad ass with a vice.  I am sure we will fish with Dave again soon, as he now knows me and will be inexplicably drawn to me like a moth to a flame.  Keep an eye out here and on his site for the new video in the near future.  

– Nymph-o

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