Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, March 19, 1995 TAG: 9503210058
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C9 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BILL COCHRAN OUTDOOR EDITOR
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
Unless there is a revolt among anglers, Saturday was the final first. Like the Texas Tavern, trout season never will close. No more circle on the calendar. No more holiday. No more celebration. No more ritual.
A survey conducted by the Department of Game and Inland Fisheries indicated 73 percent of the license-buying fishermen across the state are saying, ``Thank God!'' But you couldn't find many of them among the hordes of fishermen Saturday lining the banks of streams such as Jennings Creek, Tinker Creek and the Roanoke River in what appeared to be a record turnout.
``This is a spring rite for the fisherman,'' said Allen Shiplett of Roanoke. ``I live for it.''
Shiplett was on Jennings Creek in Botetourt County, where water comes in a rush off the timbered ridges of the Jefferson-George Washington National Forest to widen accommodatingly in a deep green pool near Arcadia.
``I've been coming up here for 28 years,'' Shiplett said. ``I'm going to do something I've never done before.''
Instead of fishing at the 9 a.m. starting time, Shiplett stood on the high ground above the creek and videotaped the last opening day action at the big hole.
Ten minutes before the starting gun, 62 fishermen ringed the pool below him, their hooks baited and dangling, their rods poised in readiness and angled upward like outstretched swords preparing the path for some kingly event.
The faces of many of the fishermen were familiar to Shiplett. You don't migrate to the same place at the same time for 28 years without developing a comradeship with like-minded celebrants, he said.
Shiplett shouted encouragement to his friend Steve Sampson of Roanoke.
``His daddy brought us up here when we were kids,'' Shiplett said.
What about next year, when there won't be a specific date to zero in on, when trout season is any time you want it to be?
``What we decided to do, we will pick a time to reserve our camping spot,'' Shiplett said. ``It will be fun, but it won't be the same. We will have to work at it to catch trout.''
Then, Shiplett decided to take his own survey. He stood on a boulder and cupped his hands:
``How many of you would rather opening day stay like it is?'' he shouted.
Hands popped up by the dozens.
``Where does this 73 percent come from?'' one fisherman shouted back.
Shiplett turned away from the stream briefly and stared at the ground. ``We are really going to miss it,'' he said.
``Hey buddy, you got the time?'' somebody asked. It is a question that had been repeated often by fishermen with nerves stretched as tightly as monofilament line.
``It's getting close,'' Shiplett said.
Close enough, one angler decided. He threw in his line. It was like waving the green flag at Daytona. A rain of worms, Power Bait, salmon eggs, minnows, corn, spinners and marshmallows hit the icy water.
An impressive percentage of the offerings disappeared into the gaping mouths of trout. Lines began to jerk and slink through the guides of rods that had taken on a rainbow shape. At least 15 fish were leaping to the surface of the pool. Bobby Waller of Gretna was battling a trophy brook trout.
Seconds later, Deputy Sheriff Nelson Tolley Sr. drove up, the blue and red lights on his patrol car flashing.
``Don't you know the season doesn't start until 9?`` he shouted to the fishermen below him. Some had trout dangling on their stringers.
``Come on fellows, put them back in,'' Tolley said. His digital watch showed the time to be 8:56. ``Throwing them back is better than getting a ticket!'' he shouted. ``I don't want to have to get you all out of the creek and check your pockets.''
Waller watched his big brook trout swim downstream.
``That took the spark out of these guys,'' Shiplett said. ``This is one time Allen Shiplett didn't get caught.''
``I hate to have to make them throw them back,'' Tolley said. ``Throwing them back is better than getting a ticket.''
``This is the only year you are going to get a restart,'' Shiplett shouted to the fishermen.
The restart went well for Floyd Waller, who used white salmon eggs to land a limit of six trout 10 minutes into the season. It took five minutes longer for his brother, Bobby, to fill his limit.
Bobby Waller waded out of the stream talking about the big fish he had to release.
``He was at least 3 pounds,'' he said. ``I thought about taking the ticket. I honestly did.''
It didn't seem to help when someone told him he won't have to wait for the season to open next spring.
A few pools downstream, Roger Mason of Lynchburg was expressing gratitude that trout season had taken on eternal life, with no begining and no end.
``It cuts out all this thing of everybody trying to pile in at the same time,'' he said. Mason hoped that would mean a better experience for his daughter, Brittany, 6, and his son, Chad, 4, who were adding color to the setting with their blue Mickey Mouse and yellow Snoopy fishing outfits, respectively.
But a couple of holes away, Tom Keith of Buchanan had a different viewpoint on the end of opening day.
``I don't like it, myself,'' he said. ``I work out of town and won't know when the streams are stocked. If you are retired, it's fine.''
Keith was fishing with his 7-year-old niece, Amber, who was beginning to lose interest in the grand affair.
``Every time I cast my bait out there, the fish swim up to Tommy's,'' she said. ``I don't think they like me.''
On Tinker Creek, Walter Vance had driven from North Carolina to celebrate opening day. He and his son, Charley, 6, had six trout on a stringer.
``I am really anti-doing away with opening day,'' Walter Vance said, while putting a fresh minnow on Charley's hook. ``It has been an institution that I grew up with, and I want Charley to enjoy it.''
Along the Roanoke River, where a low-water bridge had taken on the look of a fishing pier, Walter Andrews of Roanoke was fishing with his grandchildren, Baja Mack, 3, and Kevin Mack, 5. It was nearing noon and the youngsters had turned from their rods and reels to eat chicken and deviled eggs. Andrews, who said it was his 32nd opening day, was wondering if it really had been a good trade to give up opening day in order to gain a year-round season. He didn't think so.
``I figure this is going to be the last opeing day, so it will be my last time to buy a trout stamp,'' he said.
Then, he threw a fresh bait into the water, glancing over his shoulder to make certain his back cast didn't hook a passing car.
``It might be OK,'' he said.
by CNB