OUR FAVORITE VIRGINIA HIKES

Virginians residing in the center of the state are fortunate to live within a short drive of the Shenandoah National Park and a wealth of maintained hiking trails.  So to gear up for National Trails Day on June 7, we’ve rounded up seven of our favorite local Virginia hikes--listed from shortest to longest--for the adventurous soul to tackle this summer.

The view from Humpback Rock.  Photo by Matt Reilly.

Humpback Rock

    At milepost 5.8 on the Blue Ridge Parkway, at the base of the Mountain Farm Trail, sits a 19^th Century interpretive farm setup—this marks the trailhead for reaching Humpback Rock.  This is a short trail of modest difficulty, roughly a quarter-mile round-trip; but the view from the large rock outcropping at the trail’s end, looking west over the Shenandoah National Park, might tie you up for the entirety of the afternoon.  If you don’t mind rising early, make the ascent before sunrise and enjoy the sun’s appearance from on high.

Whiteoak Canyon

    If waterfalls are your thing, Whiteoak Canyon is for you.  This is easily one of the Park’s most popular hikes, and it has six gorgeous waterfalls to thank.  Access the trail from the lower end off route 600 in Syria, Va. or from the Skyline Drive at milepost 42.6.

    From the bottom, the climb is very steep, and a 6-mile round-trip hike.  From the Skyline Drive, the way in is easier, but the latter half of the 7.3-mile round-trip hike is much steeper.

Crabtree Falls

    Need more waterfalls?  Crabtree falls boasts the longest vertical-drop cascades east of the Mississippi River; and the first showing of five major falls starts just 100 yards away from the parking area.  The trail is moderate in difficulty and, like any other hike, should be tackled with the appropriate footwear.  The last overlook sits about 3.5 miles in, making this a 7-mile hike.

    Access the trailhead from Crabtree Falls Highway in Montebello, Va.  A $3.00 fee is required to use the parking area. 

Mount Rogers

    Seen enough waterfalls and white oaks?  Take a break and visit a unique Virginia ecosystem reminiscent of New England and southern Canada found in the Mount Rogers National Recreation Area.  Mount Rogers is Virginia’s highest peak (5,726 ft.); and the trail to its summit features grassy balds with breathtaking views of Virginia, Tennessee, and North Carolina.  Begin your hike at Elk Garden Gap and hike 9 miles east along the white blazed Appalachian Trail to reach the summit.  Tackle the hike in June or July to enjoy a fantastic display of native flora.

Strickler Knob

    The Strickler Knob trail is not maintained and includes some sharp, rocky scrambles suitable only for those in good physical condition.  But the trail’s end rewards for its hardships with a stunning 360-degree panoramic of the Luray valley.

    This 9-mile hike is more appropriately called a “bushwhack” than a “trail.”  So consult a guide for directions.  It can be reached from the Massanutten trailhead on Crimson Hollow Road.

Old Rag Mountain

    This hike can’t be left out with its reputation as one of the Shenandoah National Park’s most popular hikes.  “Old Rag” is a strenuous, nearly 9-mile hike with a serious rock scramble near the summit.  No pets are allowed on the trail, a hiking partner is recommended, and ample water is a requirement.  Access the trail by parking in the parking area off SR 600, Nethers Road, and hiking the easy 1 mile to the trailhead.    

    Because of this trail’s popularity, it might be worth a little less sleep to arrive early before the summertime crowd.

Whitetop Mountain

    The Appalachian Trail runs through Elk Garden Gap in between Mount Rogers and Whitetop Mountain.  Proceed west from Elk Garden Gap to reach the meadow summit of Whitetop (Virginia’s second highest peak).  Equal in length to the Mount Rogers hike, this nine-mile counterpart is a strong competitor in scenery and abundance of wildlife.

               

    With thousands of miles of trails veining the Old Dominion, including the longest chunk of the Appalachian Trail in a single state, it would be pretentious, and a lofty compliment, to name the aforementioned hikes as Virginia’s best.  That said, none of them lack in scenery or physical challenge.  So, lace up your boots, throw together a pack, and check these trips off your summer to-do list.  Then go find some favorites of your own!

Originally published in the Rural Virginian

NEW SPECIES COMING TO RIVANNA RIVER THIS SPRING

To meet a growing interest, Virginia Department of Game and Inland Fisheries officials are set to stock the Rivanna River with southern strain walleye this spring.

    Walleye, a family member of the northern pike, pickerel, musky, and yellow perch, are naturally northern fish, native to Canada and the northern United States.  Their name is a result of their outward-facing eyes glazed with a reflective pigment that allows them to see well at night or in stained water.  Like its relatives, the walleye has a jaw full of sharp teeth used to pin baitfish.  In the north, walleye enjoy a strong, dedicated following, many of whom value the fish as excellent table fare, similar to pickerel (another tasty treat).

    In Virginia, walleye are native only to the New River and its tributaries; and Virginians wishing to pursue the feisty, cold-water creature have to take their efforts to the western part of the state to do so, for the most part.

    In the 80s and 90s, the DGIF experimentally stocked walleye in just about every body of water they managed.  But by spreading their stocks so thin, and doing so only one year, nothing much arose from it.  Still, certain fisheries (Lake Anna being one) still boast a miniscule population of the wall-eyed fish, but nothing much for fishermen to take advantage of.

    But with more determination and a more narrowed focus, DGIF biologists are now setting their sights on Central Virginia.  “We’ve been talking about stocking walleye in area rivers for a couple years, now,” said Johnathan Harris, District Fisheries Biologist overseeing the Rivanna River drainage.  “The main purpose of the program is to create a new recreational fishery and possibly even create brood stock for future stockings in the eastern part of the state.  We’re also looking at stocking in the Shenandoah River.”

    If Harris can get his hands on the full number of fingerlings requested from hatcheries in the western part of the state, they will stock 30,000 fingerlings at four points along the River’s course between the Rivanna Reservoir dam in Charlottesville and the town of Palmyra on the River’s lower stretches.

    A catchable population of fish is the desired outcome of the project; but as walleye have never been monitored or seriously supported in the Rivanna River, Harris notes, it’s hard to predict the outcome.  “We plan to stock on a five year program.  If it’s doing well we’ll continue the process.  Walleye do not reproduce naturally with the added fishing pressure, even in the New River where they are native, so annual stockings will keep populations strong,” said Harris.

    If the program is indeed a success, typical growth rates will have fish measuring up to the recently-implemented statewide slot limit of 18 inches in three to five years.

    The Rivanna River has been known foremost as a smallmouth bass fishery since the fish’s accidental diffusion east of the Ohio River in the mid-1800s, and gives up trophy-sized fish every year, especially in its lower reaches.  But the addition of another predatory fish is not expected to be too big of an issue.  “There will be a bit of a squeeze,” Harris projects.  “Both are predatory fish, and will have to compete a little for food.”  However, Harris notes that they will not be stocking in large densities (roughly 1,000 fingerlings per river mile); and critical competition and any consequences are not likely.

    What is likely in the success of this project is the addition of a relative novelty to the Rivanna.  “Walleye, especially in the New River, are very river-running fish,” Harris reported.  “In the summer and winter, they hang out in deeper water areas, but starting in February, they will begin running up river until they hit nice rocky shoals where they can spawn.”  While Rivanna’s shad runs aren’t what they used to be, this project’s success could grant the Rivanna River a new claim to fame.

Originally published in the Rural Virginian

A TRAGEDY IN LYNCHBURG AFFECTS ALL ON THE JAMES RIVER

    April 30, 2014--a chain of 13 railcars derailed in Lynchburg, Virginia.  Six toppled into the adjacent James River, and nearly 25,000 gallons of crude oil poured into Virginia’s founding river in a disastrous display of billowing black smoke and fire.  \

thinkprogress.org photo

    A pessimist might mourn the loss of a great American river.  An optimist cringes, and turns a calloused eye to the blaze, hoping that those on the forefront will help Virginia awake from the nightmare.  But what does this really mean for Virginia’s River?  And how can such accidents be prevented elsewhere?

    The good news is that the oil being transported from the Bakken shale oil deposit in North Dakota is extremely flammable (not usually a plus), and sparked upon derailment, burning some of the contaminant into the atmosphere.

    What’s more, at the time of the spill the river was swollen from heavy rains in the James River Basin, hopefully dispersing the oil in the otherwise less-voluminous upper portion of the river.

In response to the accident, the Virginia Department of Health has issued a “recreational advisory” against such activities as swimming, wading, kayaking, and paddling in the river, from the origin of the spill in Lynchburg, to the oxbows and tidal reaches of Richmond.

    Due to the high flow of water, oil coursed the more than 100 miles to Richmond as early as May 1.  The state’s capital city is currently relying on a backup supply of drinking water; and Lynchburg’s supply was left unadulterated.

    No one was injured in the derailment, and clean water can still be attained; but the effect of the spill on the river’s diverse fish and wildlife populations will only be told through time.

A number of birds—eagles, osprey, seagulls, herons—count on the James River for sustenance.  Otters, muskrat, and beaver all construct family abodes in the clay banks.  Fish fin its waters, with no place to go.

    Ecologically, the timing of the spill is less-than-ideal.  Spring beckons waves of spawning shad and herring into the freshwater river to spawn and the birds of the riverine ecosystem are feeding chicks in nests.  This coincidence poses a multi-generational threat to the river’s inhabitants.

    Luckily, the James River Association, the James River’s premier confidant and safe keeper, led by Upper James Riverkeeper, Pat Calvert, is taking recovery measures.  Currently, the team is working with herpetologists who will assess the effect of the spill in amphibians of the river, which are effected by even the slightest amount of oil contaminant.

    This local tragedy has directed significant criticism towards the methods of transporting domestic oil.  The CSX line that the derailed train was traveling through Lynchburg follows the James River from its headwaters to its final destination in Yorktown, Virginia.

    Train routes have historically followed riverbeds for their relatively little grade and consequently-easy navigation.  In fact, many of the nation’s largest and most valuable rivers are paralleled by tracks that transport crude oil from the hydraulic fracturing site in North Dakota.  Thus the potential exists for oil spills in rivers across the country. 

    This has stirred the pot on transportation-related issues with conservation groups across the country, who hope to learn from the accident in Lynchburg, and prevent it from occurring on their river.  For as the transportation of crude oil increases in the United States, safety measures and regulations have lagged behind significantly.

    Following the spill in Lynchburg, the United States Department of Transportation presented the White House with a set of stricter guidelines for tank cars for review, to get the ball rolling. 

    Hudson Riverkeeper, Phillip Musegaas, prompted the government to ban all use of puncture prone tanks; and days later the Canadian government instituted a three-year phase-out plan for the DOT-111s that have derailed, caused pollution, and even killed people in Alabama, Quebec, North Dakota, and New Brunswick over the past year.

     Though it is a strong blow to the James River’s ecology, the river system should recover from the spill; for toxic spills are no strangers to its waters.  Still, there will be consequences, and we can only hope that this incident is looked upon as an example and a warning for what can happen as a result of poor transportation regulations.  Those with the time, means, and inspiration, I urge you to care and get involved.  Here’s how:  www.jamesriverassociation.com.

CHRIS CRAFT: LAKE ANNA'S CRAPPIE KING

Springtime is crappie time at Lake Anna; and no one knows this better than seasoned Lake Anna fisherman and guide, Chris Craft.

Photo by Matt Reilly

        Craft started fishing at a very young age, and has clocked countless hours of fishing on Lake Anna over the past 25 years.  He began fishing tournaments with an adult fishing club at the age of 16, and continues to fish tournaments on Lake Anna today. 

Craft's reputation as a crappie guide is really taking over;
and he gets plenty of press for it.  Here, Shane Baker (left)
films an installment of Angling Virginia to begin airing in
June on Richmond Fox 35.  Photo by Matt Reilly

        A little over eight years ago, after plenty of hard work and on-the-water research, Craft established CCBASSN Guide Service, guiding on the lake for largemouth bass, striped bass, and crappie.

        LakeAnna sports a strong reputation as a largemouth bass destination, and a productive striped bass fishery.  But despite Lake Anna’s variety of sport fishing opportunities, Craft’s reputation for crappie fishing has really taken over.  “Crappie fishing ranks number one for me these days,” he admits.  “They are fun to catch, taste great, and are a great fish to get a young angler started in fishing.”

                

Crappie are fun to catch, and a 25-fish limit is easily attained
if you know how to fish for them.  Photo by Matt Reilly.

        As it turns out, crappie fishing is a family affair.  Craft’s father, a passionate crappie fisherman who more than appreciates the fish’s table fare, provoked his interest in Lake Anna crappie.  On assignment, Craft delved into patterning and “figuring out” how crappie tick in the Lake.

                

        I was given the opportunity to witness his findings first hand, and was more than impressed.

                

        After meeting at Anna Point Marina, we headed straight for a creek edged with willow grass beds sporting 57-degree water.  “I start looking for crappie in the spring when water temperatures reach 45 degrees.  The temperatures for the best action are 50-65 degrees,” he professed.  

        

        Crappie are very temperature-sensitive fish, and are extremely mobile.  Rains or cold snaps can drop water temperatures mere degrees and cause schools to move significantly along the shoreline of spawning coves from one day to the next.  But Craft’s day-to-day monitoring is precise.

Two-inch Kalin grubs in "John Deere Green" and  "Green
Weenie" are local favorites.  Craft rigs them on a North Anna
Bait Company sickle hook.  Photo by Matt Reilly.

        Creeks and coves edged with willow grass beds are Craft’s go-to spring crappie spots.  “The reason crappie go to the grass in the spring is to spawn,” he said, positioning the boat several yards off of a favorite grass bed.  Crappie will often hold tight to grass edges, or even in the grass beds; but it’s important to leave some space between you and the cover.  “Many of the large spawning females will hold several feet from the grass edges, so I really believe that it’s key to stay off of the grass,” Craft explained. 

               

        The local favorite, and Craft’s personal choice, for crappie lures is simple.  Two-inch Kalin grubs in two colors, John Deere Green and Green Weenie, repeatedly get the job done.  For jigheads, a 1/16^th-ounce sickle hook, engineered by Craft’s own North Anna Bait Company, is unbeatable.  A hook bend that is more of an angled corner than a bend penetrates and locks in the corner of a crappie’s mouth and stays buttoned.  Both are available at Fish Tales Tackle Shop at Anna Point Marina.

                

A male crappie in spawning colors
fooled by the John Deere Kalin Grub
Photo by Matt Reilly.

        It wasn’t long before John Deere and the sickle hook did their job and Chris’s rod was bent.  Lifting a slab of a male crappie, in full speckled-black or “tuxedo” spawning colors, from the water, he got sentimental:  “In terms of numbers and size, Lake Anna is the best crappie lake in Virginia,” he waxed; and he’s got the stats to prove it.  Every spring, crappie trumping two-and-a-half pounds are pulled from Anna’s fertile waters; and 100-fish days are not an uncommon occurrence.

                

        For this reason, Craft’s busiest month of the year is April.  “I’ve got crappie trips almost every day,” he said.  Anglers are well aware of his reputation.

                

        In fact, Craft’s reputation is so well-known that he’s taken on past-client-turned-associate-guide Braine Oxendine, who specializes in crappie fishing March through June, to handle overflow and crappie requests during Craft’s bass fishing season.

                

     

Brian Oxendine, Craft's associate guide, specializes in
crappie fishing, and pursues them well into the summer.
Photo by Matt Reilly.

  “Longer periods of daylight and increasing water temperatures trigger the movement from winter haunts to shallow bedding areas,” Oxendine explains.  “After the spawn ends, the crappie will move in waves out to flats, points, and docks where they can feed and recover from the spawn.  They move deeper as the summer approaches.”  Don’t let the title “Associate” fool you, Brian is a very knowledgeable and accomplished crappie fisherman.

                

        Together, the “Crappie King” and “Connoisseur” represent Lake Anna’s best “slab,” “speck,” and crappie fishing guides up for hire.  Moreover, both are relaxed, humorous, and fun-to-be-with fisherman at heart.  If you can’t book one of the pair this spring, try a fall crappie trip, one of Craft’s other specialties, or a combination trip.  To book a trip, email Chris at ccbassn@aol.com, or call 540-894-6195.  For regular fishing reports and pictures, visit www.ccbassnlakeanna.blogspot.com.

Originally published in the Rural Virginian

SALMON RIVER PART II--STEELHEADING WITH RANDY JONES

I went to bed chilled the evening of our first day in Pulaski, New York, following a dangerous stunt that can only be inspired by a fish and the promise of an epic story.  My body was tired—the kind of tired that leaves your eyelids without a comfortable place to rest.  Nevertheless, I squeezed them closed.  Four-thirty would arrive early.

Photo by Matt Reilly

        There was no moon as we walked briskly, clad in waders and layered in cold weather gear, through the parking lot.  The man to formally introduce us to the river, Randy Jones (The Yankee Angler) emerged from a weathered SUV, resting his forearms on the bow of the aluminum driftboat in tow. 

        “Good morning!  Got everything you need?”

        Six o’ clock.  We slid downriver to the creaking of oars and the rippling of current on the hull.   Dark blobs emerged around every bend—driftboats anchored on spots known to hold fish.

        When the darkness lifted, Randy began rigging rods systematically, reviewing the fine points of his style of fishing.  High-sticking is the technique—maintaining a high rod tip in order to hold the fly line clear of the current and achieve a dead drift with a weighted nymph.  Casting is improvised—not the purist’s cup-of-tea, but a technique undoubtedly effective.

        We began flinging flies as soon as the sun crept over the horizon, and hooked up almost immediately.  Fish on!

        The fish soon lost the hook, but our hopes were fresh.  Three more hookups in the following minutes kept the spirit high.

        On the Salmon River, there is a definite tradeoff between leader size and number of hookups.  That being said, smaller diameter leaders result in more breakoffs and lost fish.  On the Salmon, anglers count success in hookups, not fish. 

        By mid-morning, we had fought several fish.  The bank anglers were edging closer to the boat.

        “Try to snag their line!” one of them whispered.  But such tricks are mediocre.

        “We’ll take it,” voiced, Randy, reaching out to free the jealous angler’s fly from one of our own.  No one gets to inspect a working man’s flies.

        Randy had just begun to count his blessings when hookups diminished.  It was about this time that someone let fly that Randy was not the only writer on board.  Writer to writer, I joked that the light in which he would be portrayed in this article would be directly proportional to how many fish came to net.  For his sake, I hoped we’d catch a fish.  I was starting to like the guy.

        In response to the lull, my dad opted to fish a thicker leader, to increase the chances of landing a steelhead.

        His next hookup remained solid for several minutes.  Tension mounted as rod sweeps inched the fish closer and closer to the net.  Finally, the first fish of the trip was scooped up and tailed!  The fish was unhooked, and torpedoed back into the icy river.

  

        Another lull ensued.  I opted to fish a lighter leader to increase hookups when my screaming reel brought action back to the scene!  I kept the fish hooked, allowing him several runs before bringing him boatside.    In the current, he surfaced, revealing a gargantuan white mouth and scarlet lateral line—a strong buck!

        Another run downstream seemed to be his last.  I swept the line over the stern of the boat, throwing the fish off balance, and guiding him into slower current to be netted.  Just a few feet from the net, a soft headshake loosed the hook and dashed the hopes of all on board.

        “You don’t want me to tell you how big that fish was,” Randy said solemnly.  “Probably 15 pounds.”  He then began painting a verbal picture of the fish in a shaken tone—a classic symptom of what can accurately be described here as “buck” fever.

        Recovered from disappointment, he jabbed:  “You might have a better chance catching a fish if you took up golf!”  I reminded him that deadlines often tempt me to take my stress out on my characters, and may even cause me to forget any fish caught at all!  Not likely, but it seemed to help.

        As the afternoon grew older, hookups increased.  In the last hour, a subtle take got my hands sweating.  I made a hard hook set, determined to drive the hook home.  A few minutes of elevated battling--upstream runs, headshakes, and long, screaming sprints downstream--followed, before I inched her close enough to be netted.  Finally!

        Immediately after releasing the fish, my dad hooked up with, and landed, another!  A bigger hen—a beautiful specimen.  He held the fish for the camera; and when my shutter clicked, the scene was instilled in my mind—the last moments of our Salmon River experience; and hopefully the first of many. 

Originally published in the Rural Virginian

AN ADRENALINE-SOAKED SALMON RIVER EXPERIENCE

Maybe it was the wonder of wetting a line in a world-class fishery, the hours of fishing with just one encounter with a fish, or the pure size and strength of the steelhead holding before us in the current.  Perhaps it was a combination of factors that had me standing on the bank of the Salmon River, shaken and hot with adrenaline, soaked—my waders filled—with 35-degree icy water.

               

        In honor of spring break, my dad and I headed north to Pulaski, New York, where spring is evidenced by the Salmon River swelling with snowmelt and the newly-arrived steelhead spawning in its waters.  The drive up began early in the morning, under a light drizzle.

        North of Charlottesville drizzle turned to sleet.  A quick glance at the weather radar threatened to prolong our 10-hour drive.  450 miles of heavy snow and sleet added two hours.

                

        Our tires hit gravel in Pulaski, at Whitaker’s Sports Shop and Motel.

                

        The next morning, after purchasing licenses and taking in a late breakfast at a local diner, we identified a point on the river map and followed the highway to the Schoolhouse Pool, on the upper river.

Upstate New York woods.
Photo by Matt Reilly.

                  

        The first thing that strikes anglers new to the Salmon River is the intensity of its flow.  It’s a serious river, where wading can be dangerous.  At that, the water level is controlled by dams on the upper river; and conditions can change drastically overnight.

                

        Wading into the tail of the Pool, the water was relatively low.  Nevertheless, the current lived up to its reputation.  I stripped line from my reel.

        What happened next was almost attitude-shattering.  When I grabbed my fly to clear my leader of the rod tip, three feet of the rod tip shattered like a brittle twig!  Just as I had swallowed the initial shock, icy water began trickling down my left leg.  I glanced nervously down, to see a puncture in my waders.  So much for being prepared…

                

        We purchased a cheap replacement rod and wader repair kit at another local shop.  An hour later, we had a renewed shot at fishing.

                

        We located a small-but-fertile tributary to the Salmon, parked, and hiked to its mouth.  The mile-long walk prevented many from fishing the confluence pool, which we had to ourselves.

Steelhead roe means we're on the right track.
Photo by Matt Reilly

        Anticipating the deeper water of the main river, I tied on a bead-headed tri-colored Woolly Bugger of my own creation.  I added more weight to the line, and slid into the river on the edge of a promising run.

                

        Keeping my rod high and fly line off the water, the fly trailed bottom, promising the fly was in the strike zone.  After several good drifts, the line stopped, and I lifted my rod to check its source.

Photo by Matt Reilly

        The line went tight and nosed upstream before rocketing out towards the opposite bank!  A chrome steelhead weighing almost 15 pounds thrashed at the surface twice in front of me, turned, and began a long run downstream.

         Two logs extended into the river from the bank just downstream of me.  My line was angling beneath both as I sloshed towards the obstruction, rod doubled.

         Cold sweat sprouted on my forehead.  My line was wedged in the crevice of a knot on the log.  So with the cork of my rod in my mouth, I straddled a submerged tree and edged out into the river to grab the line.  Line in hand, I hand-lined the fish in several feet, cut the line from the log, and spliced the pieces.   

Backing trailing from a logjam...Photo by Matt Reilly.

         The first obstacle cleared, I edged towards the second along the river’s bank, watching my footing carefully.  The line was more simply caught on the second log.  I crawled onto a stout overhanging tree, and edged towards the snag, pausing briefly to test the line for sign of life on the end—still there.

          I grasped a shoreline sapling tightly, as I worked forward.  Suddenly, I lost my footing.  My feet swung, the water rising to just above my chest waders, soaking my chest and legs in freezing water!  Enduring, and too far to turn back, I plunged my rod and arms into the water at my feet and passed the rod under the log.  The line popped free and connected tightly with a fish one hundred yards downriver.

          But the direct pressure inspired a violent headshake in the fish.  With that, the fish was gone, and the line sagged.

          I crawled out of the water, soaked, but warm with adrenaline, disbelieving.  My own fly had produced my first encounter with a Great Lakes’ steelhead—a fish awesomely hardier and larger than any trout I’d ever seen.  The water seemed eerily quiet as adrenaline shakes set it and I shed layers of wet clothing.

          The day had turned around, but ended in a lost fish.  The trip is still young.□

          Read SALMON RIVER PART II HERE

Originally published in the Rural Virginian

PICKEREL: AN OVERLOOKED GAME FISH

        As days lengthen and snow melts, outdoorsmen and wildlife alike prepare for the arrival of spring.  The former takes stock and organizes his gear, waiting for the bass fishing that traditionally kicks off the new season.  But as water temperatures climb out of the 40s and rise towards 60, an overlooked game fish, a true predator with a temperament as lion-like as March’s prevailing winds, is lurking in the shadows of more “sporting” fish in impoundments across the state, ready to spawn, and eager to take a lure or fly.

The Fish

        The chain pickerel, Esox niger, is a native of the eastern United States’ rivers, lakes, ponds, swamps, marshes, oxbows, and backwaters.  The smallest member of the pike family and the only member found throughout Virginia, the pickerel is a long, articulated swimmer with sharp teeth and an oversized gullet. Similar in appearance to the northern pike, its distinguishing feature is the vertical black mark through its eye.

The author's brother shows off a  nice late-winter pickerel.
Photo by Matt Reilly.

        Pickerel spawn in the early spring—March—when water temperatures stabilize around 50 degrees.  From their staging grounds in shallow water (two to four feet deep), the females broadcast ribbon-like, adhesive eggs onto emerging vegetation, brush piles, or logs, where they remain attached, unguarded until they hatch one to two weeks later.

        This brief window before and during the spawn can draw jolting strikes from the slender submarine.  As ambush predators, pickerel will relate strongly to cover such as grass and wood and engulf passing meals with a flick of their articulated bodies. 

        Pickerel are opportunistic feeders, and will ingest anything that will fit in their wide mouths, making them excellent targets for fishermen looking for sport early in the year.  They feed mostly on small fish, but crayfish, snakes, worms, mice, ducklings, birds, and frogs have all fallen victim to the pickerel’s toothy vice-grip.

        For that very reason, many farmers and property owners who permit anglers to fish their farm ponds require the immediate disposal of pickerel caught and landed, to protect the future generations of other more “peaceful” game fish.  This opinion is a cliché, in my mind, but one that should be rightfully followed if fishing such a landowner’s waters.

        As a native species, pickerel have inhabited Virginia’s waterways for ages; and it is the humble opinion of this writer that such a balance is disrupted by the presumably constructive management technique of disposing of the fish.

Fishing Techniques

        My first encounter with a pickerel was as a young boy.  I was fishing a local lake with my dad and one of his old friends when a small spinner tossed to a shallow bank drew a vicious strike.  The line went tight and rocketed out from the bank towards deeper water; but by the time I could bend my rod under the weight, the line fell limp, and my spinner was lost forever to a mystery fish.

        I lost that first fish to the pickerel’s sharp teeth; and though I would like to say I have not repeated the tragedy since, I cannot; for it is a risk involved in the pursuit of such a fish.  Therefore, line choice should be the foremost concern of a pickerel angler.

        Six- to eight-pound line on a medium rod is strong enough for a pickerel’s fight; but a strong, abrasion-resistant leader in the 10- to 20-pound range is a must. Even wire leaders intended for big game “toothy critters” like musky and barracuda aren’t out of the question.  A pickerel ambushing a lure will often engulf its faux meal completely, leaving the length of line immediately above the lure susceptible to its sharp teeth, often resulting in a cleaning-severed line.

Hairwing flies like the Mickey Finn in sizes 4-8 are very effective on pickerel.
A wire leader will prevent line break.  Photo by Matt Reilly.  

        Lures and flies for targeting pickerel are a secondary concern.  Any pattern or imitation that adheres even slightly to the fish’s wide and indiscriminate diet is effective, though the most productive imitations will resemble baitfish.  Attractor patterns such as spinners, spoons, and brightly-colored jigs are also top-producers in the pickerel world; and fly anglers will do well with bucktail streamers and poppers. Swimbaits, wacky-rigged stickbaits, and in-line spinners are regular members of my pickerel fishing arsenal. 

        Work these lures close to submerged logs and weed beds in waters inhabited by pickerel before and during the spawn, and you might just raise a fish looking for a fight.  After the initial strike, the fish will utilize their long bodies and powerful tail to evade your efforts, but fight them carefully—their teeth amplify the threat of excessive pressure on the line.  Once landed, be prepared with a pair of hemostats or pliers for extracting the hook while keeping your hands and fingers clear of the needle-like incisors.

        While the bass spawn traditionally signifies spring, pickerel spawn now, and provide unsurpassed sport on light tackle.  Don’t overlook this worthy and sporty game fish.□

*Originally published in the Rural Virginian