Destination Canaan Valley

By C.C. McCotter

In early February I made my annual winter trek to Canaan Valley, West Virginia with my family. While others skied and snowboarded, my three weight Temple M fly rod was on standby in the back of the Jeep, and I was ready for adventure take off.

The summer before I had scouted the Spruce Knob National Recreation Area (about 20 minutes from Canaan Valley) and found a fly-fishing only stretch of Red Creek running along a rocky streambed paralleled by a rugged path. Native brook trout were the quarry, notoriously finicky and tiny. A six-inch native brookie is considered a nice catch.

With my wife’s blessing, my brother and I made the 10-mile ride on some inspiringly engineered roads that led into the heart of the mountains. Before we reached our destination we stopped at a couple of bridges and spoke to local anglers fishing for stocked trout. Evidently the stocking truck had just come through, dumping fish from the bridge, because the bubblegum-sized hunks of PowerBait were out in force.

I’m not against this type of fishing, however, I’d prefer to catch trout with the long rod and see the strike. One fellow we asked, “if they were biting” told us “No”. But we heard a fish flopping in his cooler as we walked by his truck, and my brother said, “C’mon man, you either got a trout or a puppy in the back of that truck.” With a wry smile, the fellow then admitted he’d caught several trout. That’s how fisherman are. Some say you have to be a little sneaky to be a good trout angler.

At the trailhead, another mile or so above the bridges, Douglas and I rigged up with tiny nymph imitators so we could fish subsurface. I did not see anything hatching despite air temperatures of 55 degrees. The water was running strong, but clear, with only a hit of tannin. We made our way upstream, I in felt-soled waders, my brother trying not to “wet-wade”.

At the first pool we reckoned, two flows met and back-eddied creating a bubbling air injection that I know trout seek. I made several false casts then dropped the nymph at the head of the pool and pulled a decent drift off back toward myself. It took three tries, but the offering was gobbled by something under a raft of foam and the little rod jolted. I saw a flash of gold and stripes and pulled the rod tip up and kept the hook point tight to the fish.

“Man, that’s a native!” my brother exclaimed as the fish came toward the rocky bank.

I have caught native brook trout before in Bath County, but they were tiny specimens and their markings were almost microscopic. This fish was eight inches long and brilliantly colored. As I held it gently in my hand and worked the lure loose, I saw rings of blue and circles of red on green and yellow flanks that gave way to an orange belly. The fins were orange with black and white piping.

This was a mountain jewel, found by only the luckiest of prospectors. I was awed and took a moment to take in the surroundings; the sound of rushing water, gently warming sunshine, dormant but vibrant woods, this astounding bit of creation in my hands and my brother beside me. The moment conveyed a message of deep satisfaction of joy.

When was the last time you experienced this feeling? I believe these brief moments of enlightenment are what gives hope, and isn’t that what gets us all to the next moment? I caught two more natives that afternoon, a 10 incher and an 11 incher from pools a bit further up the creek, each a triumph and equally inspiring.

My brother had one on and the fish slipped the hook, but he, like me knew as long as one of us was catching fish, life was good.

Think a little trout fishing might do your soul some good? Think about a trip up to Canaan Valley. This 3,800’ high alpine valley rarely gets above 85 even in the summer and looks more like Canada than the eastern U.S. It’s roughly 210 miles from home in Louisa County via Route 33 west. Northern Virginian’s would access the region using Route 50 west. The drive in both cases is through magnificent mountain vistas. Other trout streams in the area include the Dry Fork, South and North Branches of the North Fork of the Potomac River, the Blackwater River and Gandy Run. There’s even some fine public largemouth fishing to be found in Pendleton Lake at Blackwater Falls State Park.

Lodging options are many. There are even some trout guides working the area. When in the Seneca Rocks region, consider staying at either Smoke Hole Outfitters (guide Josh Hedrick is your local expert) or Harmon’s North Fork Cabins. Once you get up to Canaan Valley, you can stay at Blackwater State Park, Canaan Valley State Park or rent a cabin from Timberline Realty or Canaan Valley Realty.