CONGRESS: REAUTHORIZE THE LAND AND WATER CONSERVATION FUND

The George Washington-Jefferson National Forest—covering over 1.8 million acres in Virginia, West Virginia, and Kentucky, it is one of the largest blocks of public land in the eastern United States, however non-contiguous and geographically tattered.

    In May of 2014, a portion of that map—the Old Dominion’s legacy of public land access—was filled in. Thanks to the land ethic and cooperation of the Campbell family—private landowners from Nelson County—317 acres surrounding Spy Rock were purchased through the National Park Service with funds provided by the Land and Water Conservation Fund (LWCF). Consequently, a portion of the Appalachian Scenic Trail and the scenic view from the Rock were preserved while providing opportunities to better wildlife management and access for outdoor recreationists.

    Over the course of its 50-year history, the LWCF has effectively leveraged the preservation of over 5 million such acres.

    Unfortunately, in September of 2015, Rep. Rob Bishop, R-Utah, the House Natural Resources Committee chairman, allowed the LWCF to expire, representing anti-federal leanings present in parts of the West where the majority of the country’s federal public land is located.

    Conceived in 1964, the LWCF embodies Congress’ bipartisan promise to work to preserve public natural areas, water resources, cultural heritage, and other recreational spaces in the American image—and at no cost to taxpayers. A small fraction of revenue generated from oil and gas companies drilling on the Outer Continental Shelf has historically provided Congress with up to $900 million dollars to be funneled into the Fund annually, though in recent years, about two thirds of that money has been rerouted to fund other, unrelated projects, and is untraceable. 

    The funds that are allocated to the Fund are divvied up into federal and state pools, to benefit an array of different spending projects. On the federal side, funds are utilized to purchase inholdings—swaths of privately-owned land within or adjacent to federally-owned public land. Interested landowners are offered fair market value by a land trust or group like the Nature Conservancy, and the land is then sold to the state or federal agency.

    State-allocated money is utilized more broadly. “State dollars flow to each state to spend on state parks, greenways, county parks, ballfields, trails, etc.,” said Jay Leutze, a trustee of the Southern Appalachian Highlands Conservancy. “There is also a powerful part of the program called Forest Legacy that purchases conservation easements from working forest owners. They get to stay on the land, own it, timber it—Forever. It’s a great program that helps the local timber industry and families. Land gets protected and the government has no maintenance cost.”

    In August of 2015, Secretary of the Interior, Sally Jewell, signed into effect the apportionment of $42.8 million to the states.

    Now that the LWCF is in limbo, so are the projects scheduled for the 2016 fiscal year. In Virginia alone, over $8 million dollars was on schedule to purchase land within the Washington-Jefferson National Forest. Still another $15 million was set to protect critical resources within the Chesapeake Bay Watershed and the New River headwaters. While this money will still flow towards these projects this year, most of these deals will require more than a year’s time, and will likely outlast their monetary resources.

    Likewise, the expiration of the LWCF on September 30, earlier this year, was certainly counted as a loss within the sportsman’s community. However, no time has been lost in launching a campaign to reauthorize it with full funding.

    Sen. Steve Daines, R-Montana told Backcountry Hunters and Anglers that reauthorization of the LWCF has “a higher probability if we attach it to another piece of legislation.” Senator Richard Burr, R-North Carolina, a local champion of the LWCF, continues to seek out that vehicle bill. Current candidates include the currently-proposed omnibus spending bill or a highway bill that will fund the Highway Trust Fund. Regardless, LWCF advocates must first convince Congressional leadership to allow the amendment of such a bill with the LWCF reauthorization provision.

    On the morning of November 5, Rep. Bishop presented a bill including his own changes to the LWCF, among them a call to limit federal land and water acquisition at 3.5 percent. He is scheduled to hold a hearing on the bill on November 18—just three Congressional work days following this publication.

    It is critical to the future of public land and conservation that the LWCF be reauthorized (preferably, with full funding). Virginia’s own Rep. Rob Wittman, R-VA, currently sits on the House Natural Resources Committee, and has historically been in favor of the LWCF. As Virginia sportsmen, this is our point of contact. Make your voices heard.□

*Originally published in the Rural Virginian

LATE SUMMER BLUES

“Still little guys.”

Bob Ackerman’s voice grumbled over the static of engine noise and river spray as Captain Chuck O’Bier idled his 46-foot “Sea Fox” by a small flock of seagulls engaged in a choreographed feeding ritual above the lower Potomac River. Bluefish were breaking all around, exploiting the same panicked balls of baitfish from all angles. The sun sat low on the horizon in a Tidewater haze, colored around by warm streaks of light.

Sunrise over the lower Potomac River.  Photo by Matt Reilly.

Several fish had been boated after only a few casts, but O’Bier, who operates Chuck’s Charters out of Lewisetta, Virginia and boasts 35 years of experience fishing the lower Potomac River and Chesapeake Bay, knew there was more to be had. Ackerman, an experienced boat owner and successful tournament angler himself, put that knowledge into words.

To the four outdoor writers and friends aboard, it was simply a pleasure to have found willing fish so early. Nevertheless, we retrieved our metal spoons and topwater plugs and stowed our rods on faith.

On our way to a limit.  A collection of blues.  Photo by Matt Reilly.

September is for bluefish in Virginia. Summer drought and temperatures draw the pelagic predators north into the Chesapeake Bay and tidal river mouths. As autumn approaches, cooling weather and rain events push the fish to more salinated waters as a prequel to their winter migration south.

We know them by many names:  Silverside, glass minnow.  Bluefish know them as "food."  Photo by Matt Reilly.

Finding them is easy. Voracious bluefish corral baitfish--commonly glass minnows, or “silversides”--into tightly-packed balls and then “blitz” their prey--pushing the schools towards the surface and tearing through them mouth open, chomping their razor-sharp teeth, in an adrenaline-soaked frenzy. Swirling flocks of seabirds, locked on to the bite-sized minnows and diving, are the above-water clues. When occurring in unison, the scene is chaos defined, and observable from a distance.

A crazed bluefish with a mouthful of glass minnows.  Photo by Matt Reilly.

Years of searching the horizon has taught O’Bier to utilize a quality pair of binoculars, and when they came down from his face and retreated into the cabin with him, it was evident he was on to another localized blitz.

A few minutes of motoring put us in contest with another, smaller vessel with the same quarry, which had edged in too close to the school and put them down.

Within seconds, the school reappeared on the port side. The telltale gulls had dissipated, temporarily losing the bait as it fled from dispersed blues, but surface water bubbled up, and fish could be seen making runs at bait just beneath the surface.

Almost every cast produced a fish between one and three pounds for each of the five fishermen, prompting Tee Clarkson, friend and outdoor writer from Richmond, to break out his 8-weight fly rod and rig it with a popper. Several fish fell prey to the long rod, and we took turns stripping flies from pumped-up bluefish until the action wore out.

The 8-wt. pulls an all-but-resigned blue to the surface.  Photo by Tee Clarkson.

This routine was repeated several times. It was quickly discovered that topwater (save for mylar poppers fished with the fly rod) was losing out to the silver spoon that I casted all morning.

By 9:00 we had our five-man limit of 50 fish. By noon, we were tuckered out and looking towards shore.

It was on our ride back to the dock when Ken Perrotte, friend and outdoor writer from Fredericksburg, proudly represented outdoor communicators everywhere by asking Clarkson to catch just one more fish so he could get some photographs with the fly rod doing battle. Though reluctantly, Clarkson submitted.

In seconds we were up to our armpits in fish.

Clarkson made the first cast to a busting school of fish, and suddenly we were surrounded by birds, bait, and blues. Bait balls were yards wide and opaque with the brownish tint of blood.

Clarkson plays a bluefish that smashed a popper to the boat.  Photo by Matt Reilly.

Everyone ran for rods. Clarkson was engaged in a game of cat and mouse with a popper and several bluefish. Each fish would take a swipe, knock the popper into the air, causing Clarkson to set the hook, pull the fly away, and upset the fish even more.  

For 20 minutes, every cast had a two- to three-pound bluefish on the end of it--a fish strong enough to strain your arm and suggest rest. And because they were so caught up in the blitz, they fought all the way to, and in, the boat, at one point throwing a treble hook and planting it into O’Bier’s helpful arm. Another fought me so doggedly that it lost its jaws and returned lip-less to the chaos. One of Clarkson’s fish took a bite out of his shirt.

Double? Triple?  I lost count!  Photo by Matt Reilly.

When at last the action had slowed, we left the fish feeding and headed for shore. On land, O’Bier and his wife treated us to a blue crab feast, complete with corn on the cob and fried bluefish and hush puppies as hors-d’oeurves.

A bushel of fresh blue crabs.  Photo by Matt Reilly.

A feast!  Photo by Matt Reilly.

Over dinner, we called the day’s catch conservatively at about 350 fish.□

*Originally published in the Rural Virginian