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The Newsletter of the Virginia Capital Chapter of TROUT UNLIMITED

Meetings

Next Meeting of TU Capital Chapter – November 13 - 6:00 PM at Byram’s Lobster House – We’re doing it the second Monday this month to accommodate some travel plans of folks who want to be there.  Sorry for the inconvenience.  Our aim this month is to have Michael Simon do a slide presentation to remember Chapter History.  We will be asking founding and more senior members of the group to come out, share their fishing stories from the past, and other experiences.  As always, all members are welcome to share their stories – we LOVE fish tales.

Reminder to New Members

For all new members, when you sign up using the membership form, please indicate that you are signing up to Chapter #184.

Fly Fish America is NOT moving contrary to what we heard earlier and will remain where they are.  All are invited and if you tell them you’re with our chapter, you save 10%.  These are good guys so go visit them.  Reminder that Orvis Days are here and you may have gotten your card.  There are savings and a whole lot of things going on about Fly Fishing.  Visit or call Ty Kruger at the Orvis shop at Short Pump Mall.

September 18 Meeting

Another Great meeting! – 15 or so showed and we started with a show and tell – a couple of fellows brought rods they wrapped and some pictures finally showed up – and as usual, a lot of fish tales. 

Here is where we are:  We have a little over $1400.00 in the bank.  We’re spending about $200.00 per year for the newsletter mailing and that’s with a bunch of volunteer work and effort by companies and people who could be charging us for their labor.  We only have three events – two trips to the Buffalo to clean up (that costs nothing except a volunteer’s gas money to get there) and the Shields Lake fishing project – which has been an enormous success.  Unfortunately, in spite of the fact that the City, schools, and in general, folks who attend it, like it and want it to continue, the financial burden falls on us.  The State Chapter gives us some help, but not without a lot of canvassing to get the money into our kitty.  The fish aren’t free and anything we hand out, publish or use to get kids and others to fish, is on us.  The entire event costs us over $2000.00 – so it goes without saying much more – we need funds. 

We don’t do fund raisers except for asking for your donations – mainly because every other chapter has special events and quite frankly we would run directly into them.  I’m talking about auctions, raffles, dinners, and so forth.  But our Chapter is the largest, and if we could get our members to throw in just $10.00 for the year, we would have enough for two Shield's Lake years and two more years of the newsletter. 

For those of you who think we’re being a pest about this, I believe you’re right.  But if you don’t ask, you don’t get, and we need it.  So please help us.  Send your check to:

Virginia Capital Chapter of Trout Unlimited
2805 Dover Hunt Place
Richmond, VA  23233

By the way, if you want to be added to our email list send an email to Andrew at andrew.stiles@verizon.net. Thanks to everyone for your help – and a special thanks to those who want to give to keep us going.  See you at the next meeting.  Andrew

Where Someone Fishes

Where someone goes and what they do when they get there pretty much defines that person.  In each of us there is a quest, you might say, to find a little more about one’s self.  I’m older now, much more risk averse, and a lot more curious, and it’s troubling for me that many questions still remain unanswered – mostly about who and what I am – or better yet, what I have become.

The trip into Blackfeet territory and into the Great Bear Wilderness was to see for myself what someone long before me may have seen – or found - and to find it as it most likely was then.  It was a fishing trip, but also something more.  It was do a thing I’ve read about but have never done.  It was a trip to meet my Native American neighbors whom I have yet to get to know and to hear stories from a completely different point of view.  And it was a trip to gain a deeper understanding of, and respect for, a land that can swallow a man and make him disappear as easily as it can provide recreation and entertainment. 

I meet Joe Kipp at his ranch just outside of Browning on Thursday morning and he shows me where the rivers begin.  His place is on the Cut Bank River just outside of town.  I throw my gear in the back of his truck and we’re off.  Joe tells me about his heritage.  He refers to himself and his people as Piegan which is a name given to his people by fur traders from Europe long before Lewis and Clark traveled here.  It means “people (or Indians) of the Mud River region”.  At one time, they number in the hundred thousands and their lands went from the Saskatchewan River in Canada to the lower Yellowstone, and from the Rockies east to the Dakotas.  The Blackfeet name came from their tribal neighbors who would remark about their ash covered feet from the prairie fires that were set each year to grow rich green fields of grass that would attract the buffalo. They hunted and gathered food to live.  They were rich in their civilization and culture and enjoyed the freedom the prairies and mountains gave them to hunt and roam. 

My trip begins with Joe telling stories of the bears that are in the area.  The Great Bear Wilderness, particularly in the western region of the reservation, is where most of the mauling takes place.  Grizzlies are common and are growing in number, and in this region, because there are not the troupes of tourists – in fact, none! – bears are bold.  And there are no Forest Rangers to report to and therefore trails are never closed to hikers who wander there. 

We travel as far as we can by truck across rocky trails on the sides of mountains, and I am amazed we get as far as we do, given the general rocky and rutted condition.  Old logs are used to bank up a section where a slide has removed a part of the trail and dropped it down the mountainside.  We park, pack, and move farther in by foot – another two or three miles – up a mountain and down the other side into the valley of the Otatsa – near to Chief Mountain, a sacred place for Joe and his people.  It is untouched!  The water is gin clear and cold – coming off glaciers and traveling eastward and south.  The fish are native Cuts and they jump out of the water at times, even before the fly hits the surface.  They appear grateful for anything that looks like food. 

They are always there – the bears - watching and curious, and wondering – and they keep us alert.  Alert is a word for one’s senses when they become razor sharp.  Above the roar of the river, above the rustling of the leaves, as you listen, you hear the footsteps and you move upstream – always with one eye on the hillsides and in  the bush trying to determine if anything, what might be moving  your direction.  We’re visitors and the bears own the land. 

We break for lunch.  Joe calls me over to a game path along side the river and we find tracks – bear tracks the size of a human foot – twice as wide - extended by claw marks that reach out from the pad another three inches or so.  They’re fresh and no doubt, belong to the neighbor we have been listening to along the way.  Joe calculates it to be a young adult male – probably 700 to 800 pounds.  We haven’t seen much of him yet, but he is there.  A little further, Joe spots another set of tracks – this time it’s a sow and she has a cub with her.  They’re also pretty fresh and it could be the reason the male hasn’t bothered with us yet.  It’s all a mystery – a puzzle – Joe puts it together piece by piece, and we move on. 

He’s armed – my guide – with a big caliber rifle and a handgun for backup.  There are instructions and I’m told in no uncertain terms to follow them.  If we see a bear, get behind the man with the rifle – keep my bear spray ready, and one hand on the guide’s shoulder.  Look keen, and if the bear charges, use the spray, but not into the wind.  We should be OK, but follow the plan – and don’t panic.  That’s a lot to remember and keep my mind on fishing, but somehow, the message sinks in.  I keep fishing and we move on. 

Joe is a good fisherman.  But on this trip, he is the armed guard.  We start from the spot where we leave the truck and he looks more like someone going on a hunting trip.  He tells me that I know how to fish, and watching me, he says I know how to read the water.  He’ll show me where the river begins and from there it’s up to me.  He has to do it this way because he is watching for the bears – rifle in hand.  They are always there and Joe needs to pay attention – and that’s OK with me. 

It’s nearly 3:00 in the afternoon.  The sun is out and there’s a slight breeze.  We’re fishing and wading through a tight spot in the canyon – near a game trail – a great ambush spot for bears and their prey - and Joe’s senses the area.  He’s alert.  It’s where he had an encounter a little over a year ago and nearly lost his son.  They shot the bear with a twelve-gage slug gun and a heavy caliber revolver.  It walked away and over a mountaintop.  Searching the next day, the bear was still on the move.  It wasn’t dead yet.  Joe is nervous. 

The sun is still high overhead, but moving toward the horizon and the shadow from the mountains is growing longer on the stream.  We decide to pack up and move to high ground.  It’s a trek up the mountain and back on the trail again.  When we’re done, we’ve put about 5 miles behind us getting to and from the river. 

This story ends here but there are always the bears and folks like Joe to take folks like me out to live the adventure they almost always just read about.  As for me – I don’t know if it’s made me much different than what I have always been - and I don’t know – at least for the moment – if, or how, many of my questions have been matched with just the right answers.  The trip has made me aware of just how small I am.  And in all, I’m pleased that I did this thing with Joe as my guide.  I am most grateful to have had a place to do it in.  Actually, “grateful” is a word far too small to sum it up and I don’t have one to put in it’s place.  Pete 

A Great Past President

Somewhere back in time, like the early '80's, I moved to Richmond after eleven years of enjoying the Rocky Mountain High/Trout Bum Life in Colorado. Needless to say, upon my arrival here, my first endeavor was to find out where the brookies were at!  I found Mev Van Doren's Orvis shop in the phone book the day after I finished my unpacking. When pressed, Mev foisted me off on Bob Mayo, proprietor of a fine art gallery across the street.  Bob humored me with some of the fundamentals of Virginia trout fishing and then suggested that I contact one Chris Baldridge; recently shanghai'd President of the Joe Brooks Chapter of Trout Unlimited.  It was a very good day. 

For the better part of the next ten years Chris was my best, most faithful, and nearly constant fishing companion... although we did do a fair amount of upland bird stalking, single malt whiskey tasting, and a measure of fairly amateur singing of a broad range of popular tunes of the day...together.  Chris passed away two months ago after a TRULY valiant fight with his Cancer.  I was convinced he'd beat it right up to a month before he lost the battle.

I will be giving a slide show (of modest duration!) of some of the many pictures I've taken of Chris over the course of the last twenty years.  Expect to see Chris's smiling face against a backdrop of some of the finer trout streams of the mid-Atlantic region, as well as some of the more picturesque grouse and woodcock coverts of the aforementioned area.

There will also be pictures of many of the other members of the Chapter of that era and I do hope some of you will come out of the woodwork to see my humble tribute to my good friend who died with a very positive outlook on life and death, not to mention a wonderful sense of humor, up until a day short of his fiftieth birthday. 

Please join me and let's drink a toast to Chris Baldridge.

Michael C. Simon
13600 Fox Chase Terrace
Midlothian, VA 23112
804 744 6317

Ask the Trout

Questions:  Line Weight and Tippet Sizes – what is this all about? 

Tippet measurement is a combination of the named size (i.e. 7x) and the difference in that number and .011 inches.  In other words, a 7x tippet measures .004 inches in diameter and a 4x tippet will measure .007 inches.  Size has to do with fish seeing the line and the size of your fly, versus strength.  Line strength measured in pounds of test, can vary in each size tippet, so you have to make sure you’re fishing with the right test for your game to hang on – of course realizing that the size has something to do with the maximum test one would expect from a manufactured line.  But if you want to fish light tackle – again respecting the fish and the time it takes to land it – you have to use the right size and length of tippet in order to practice whatever stealth you wish. 

Matching a rod, your line and a fly is called “tuning” your tackle.  Here is a table that you might use as a rule of thumb:

Ought- to 1-weight - 8X to 7X
1- to 2-weight ----- 6X to 4X
3- to 4-weight ----- 3X to 2X
5- to 7-weight ----- 1X to 0X

A New Rod

Marshal Brown just got a new fly rod.  He brought it to our last meeting to show me.  I have one and I like mine.  But this one is a dandy.  A fellow by the name of Steve Green in Holland, Michigan just retired and got himself into the rod wrapping business.  He is making all sizes and for fishing, salt, great lakes, small lakes, and streams.  I own his 3 weight and Marshal bought a couple from him – a 5 weight and a 9 weight.  The rods are carbon fiber, green and wrapped in green.  The eyes are single foot and titanium.  The seat is “Dragonwood” tinted green and highly figured and blends with the titanium up ring and butt cap.  This is one fine rod, tosses nice and you can get them in a fast or medium action.  The rods sell for from about $165 bucks each (really inexpensive for a custom made rod) and I think if you mention TU, your editor, and the fact you’re from Virginia, you might even save a buck or two (no guarantees).  You might want to check this one out.

Contact Joe Green – Greenstixs Manufacturing Company, P.O.Box 1342, Holland, Michigan 49422.  www.green-stix.com, or contact Steve at Green-Stix@juno.com.  Telephone number:  888-397-9240.

A Fisherman's Prayer

“Dear Lord,

Please help me catch one big enough so I don’t have to lie!”  Anonymous Contributor

End of Oct '06 Newsletter