My Jennings Creek Tale
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My Jennings Creek Tale
Reading Tyler's post on "I aint tellin creek" sort of brought to mind one of my tales of brookie fishing in Southwest Virginia.
I grew up in the Roanoke area of Virginia but I didn't start fly fishing until after I moved away to North Cackalack. Well, once I started I realized that I lived only miles away from some of the best fly fishing in the Old Dominion. So I mostly fished close to my old stomping grounds with my brother and my father. We all kind of picked up the sport at the same time and it really brought us together thrashing the waters in search of trout.
The day I am thinking of was a brisk winters day that we ventured to Jennings Creek near Buchanan, VA for a day of fishing. Jennings Creek is a fairly popular place amongst the trout fishermen of Virginia and it gets a lot of pressure. But if you venture up North Creek it gets to feel more like wild water with easy access. I spent a few hours on one pool dappling a big ass fly on a pool from the cover of a rock. Rewarded by snagging a colorful wild brook trout with colors as vibrant as an evening sunset over the Blue Ridge. At the time I was kind of disappointed that I had caught such a small fish but now I see it in a whole different light. Catching wild Appalachian trout. I wished we had digital cameras back then so I could better remember them. They seem to get bigger every time I tell this story.
The most notable part of this tale happened later in the evening as my brother and I fished together. It was getting cold in the shadow of the mountain so we were getting tired and ready to go home and warm up a little. We fished side by side. My brother casting up stream and me casting down stream. We chatted about life and other important topics as we cast, not really trying to catch anything, just having a conversation. When I heard a Fhewweeeewwwwwwsh..... THUNG! Initially I did not know what had happened until I felt my brother tug on the line and nearly yank my right ear off. He had successfully hooked his biggest fish ever and I was it. Luckily, it was so cold out that my ear was numb and I could not feel it. But I had a fly embedded in the cartilage of my upper ear and I was not happy. My father took great care to only inflict as much pain as he felt necessary, which was a lot, to remove it. Probably would have been more painful if my ear weren't frozen solid.
It's funny how in retrospect a moment like that becomes a cherished memory. Lucky it was just my ear.
I grew up in the Roanoke area of Virginia but I didn't start fly fishing until after I moved away to North Cackalack. Well, once I started I realized that I lived only miles away from some of the best fly fishing in the Old Dominion. So I mostly fished close to my old stomping grounds with my brother and my father. We all kind of picked up the sport at the same time and it really brought us together thrashing the waters in search of trout.
The day I am thinking of was a brisk winters day that we ventured to Jennings Creek near Buchanan, VA for a day of fishing. Jennings Creek is a fairly popular place amongst the trout fishermen of Virginia and it gets a lot of pressure. But if you venture up North Creek it gets to feel more like wild water with easy access. I spent a few hours on one pool dappling a big ass fly on a pool from the cover of a rock. Rewarded by snagging a colorful wild brook trout with colors as vibrant as an evening sunset over the Blue Ridge. At the time I was kind of disappointed that I had caught such a small fish but now I see it in a whole different light. Catching wild Appalachian trout. I wished we had digital cameras back then so I could better remember them. They seem to get bigger every time I tell this story.
The most notable part of this tale happened later in the evening as my brother and I fished together. It was getting cold in the shadow of the mountain so we were getting tired and ready to go home and warm up a little. We fished side by side. My brother casting up stream and me casting down stream. We chatted about life and other important topics as we cast, not really trying to catch anything, just having a conversation. When I heard a Fhewweeeewwwwwwsh..... THUNG! Initially I did not know what had happened until I felt my brother tug on the line and nearly yank my right ear off. He had successfully hooked his biggest fish ever and I was it. Luckily, it was so cold out that my ear was numb and I could not feel it. But I had a fly embedded in the cartilage of my upper ear and I was not happy. My father took great care to only inflict as much pain as he felt necessary, which was a lot, to remove it. Probably would have been more painful if my ear weren't frozen solid.
It's funny how in retrospect a moment like that becomes a cherished memory. Lucky it was just my ear.
Re: My Jennings Creek Tale
It seems like the times that everyone remembers are either great days on the water or a misserable experiance they shared. Some of the most interesting backpacking stories Ive heard are about horrible rain or snow.
Re: My Jennings Creek Tale
I to grew up in roanoke va, williamson rd. area, and remember the fly fishing in jennings/north creek, many memories, i still fish them every chance i get, along with the james for smallmouths 2 trips in one, remember the arcadia general store lunch and good comradeship and fishing supplies. Now that i have founf out they stock tinker creek will be trying that, one special place off of hollins rd, caught losts of sunfish and chubbs during the best time of my life.
charlie- Junior Member
- Posts : 29
Join date : 2010-05-28
Age : 83
Location : reidsville,nc.
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