Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, March 22, 1992 TAG: 9203230159
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C11 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BILL COCHRAN OUTDOOR EDITOR
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
Just downstream was a low-water bridge that suddenly had been incarnated as a fishing pier, with one row of fishermen sitting or squatting and a second row behind them standing, like Civil War infantrymen in readiness for an assault.
The fingernail-size spinner blade of the lure that Curtis cranked was catching the glint of the sun, and it also was drawing the attention of a bull-sized brown trout.
There were rumors that a trophy trout had been stocked in the area, and the same was said of the long pool beneath Eddy Street Bridge in Salem, and a green pool that is as round as a pocket watch on Tinker Creek above U.S. 460.
These holes of hope, however, appeared to contain lethargic fish, cold-blooded creatures not nearly as anxious for combat as the hip-booted anglers who stalked them.
A single voice rose above the quiet murmur of water at Eddy Street: "This is pretty sorry for opening day."
Earlier that morning, about 60 fishermen had scared the ducks off the water and flushed the pigeons from their perches beneath the bridge, but the trout proved to be less responsive.
Robert Yopp and his father, Paul, had driven over from Rocky Mount, as they do most opening days; and Robert was the top rod on the Eddy Street pool, catching five trout, but having trouble getting the sixth for a limit.
While drifting a fat nightcrawler downstream, Yopp recalled opening day of two seasons ago when his dad landed a huge 5 1/2-pound brown trout.
The biggest thing spotted this time was a fish caught across the stream from Yopp, which looked to be 2 pounds. It was a carp.
Horace Hood, a Roanoke Valley angler who has seen more than 40 opening days, was attempting to interpert the mood and character of the river, wondering if it was a bit too full and bloated.
"When the water gets high like this it scatters the trout, which means they still are in here."
Downstream, Cliff Curtis of Roanoke was about to remove a bragging-size brown. The fish had made a power drive on his Roostertail, grabbing it with a forest of teeth and tailing off for deep water. Curtis held on, his 4-pound line stretched like a banjo string.
"I've been waiting for this one," he said.
The battle lasted 10 minutes, as best Curtis could tell. The fish was hook-jawed and vividly etched with black and brown spots, some having faint halos of a lighter hew. It measured 21 3/4 inches and weighed 3 pounds, 10 ounces - not a citation, but a trophy, nonetheless, in the eyes of Curtis and the crowd on the low water bridge.
"Hold him up again," someone kept saying, thrilled that the big one doesn't always get away.
By mid-afternoon, the largest trout weighed at All Huntin-N-Fishin Store in Salem was a 4 1/2-pounder from the Roanoke by Ron Weaver.
Robert Daniel was up well before daylight to travel from Roanoke to the Bullpasture River in Highland County, the weather getting colder the farther he went, until he ended up in a dusting of snow.
The angling traffic had started building in the tiny village of Williamsville as early as Friday, and by the time Daniel got there it looked like rush-hour New York.
He and his friends took limits, and by noon were eating pork and beans by a fire that glowed and crackled in a public campground.
On Tinker Creek, Game Warden Gary Arrington was pondering how some people catch a limit and others hook nothing.
"You can have four people fishing together and one of the guys will be wearing the fish out and while the other three are trying to figure out what bait they should be using."
Sgt. R.B. Jenkins, a warden who worked Franklin County, came away feeling that most people were having fun, no matter their catch.
"I would consider it one of our better openings."
by CNB