Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, August 21, 1995 TAG: 9508220017
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: B-6 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BILL COCHRAN OUTDOOR EDITOR
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
Twenty-five pound line.
``Boom!''
Fifty-pound line.
``Boom!''
Sixty-pound line.
So what is Wilson after, with his beefy reels and matching thumb-thick rods, the kind of gear you expect to see on sport-fishing boats docked at Virginia Beach and Nags Head?
Tuna? Marlin?
No, catfish. Wilson, who lives in Blue Ridge, is an upper James River flathead catfish angler, part of a group of mostly clandestine fishermen who have enjoyed nearly a decade of exceptional, heavyweight sport that is only beginning to leak out to the fishing fraternity.
``They didn't show up until after the flood of '85,'' Wilson said of the flatheads in the Botetourt-Rockbridge-Bedford counties section of the river. He started fishing for them two years later.
``My first one, [in] '87, was 16 pounds. In 1988, it was 28 pounds. I got the big one in '90 or '91.''
The big one weighed 34 pounds, and earned him the title ``Catfish Bob.'' There was a bigger one that got away.
``Back in '90 we were in the upper part of Springwood,'' Wilson said. ``I had one of those open-faced reels. Something took off and I stood up and set the hook and was going out of the boat. So I dropped to my knees. I even lost control of the pole for a moment. Then I started reeling in and said, `Shoot, I lost it.'
``So I was taking my time reeling in and all of a sudden the line started getting tight again. The fish had gone back under the boat and was up river.
``We got that thing up to the boat and it was at least 11/2 feet across the head. You could have stuck a gallon jug in its mouth. It went down one more time, and `Boom!' Lord, that thing looked to be 38 or 40 pounds.''
It is that kind of drama, often after dark, that has attracted so many anglers that Wilson believes fishing pressure is cutting into the flathead population. The size and number of the fish grew rapidly in the late '80s and early '90s, but has declined the past two years, he said.
``Once people found out about it, every spot that you could get to by walking was just lined with lanterns at night,'' Wilson said. ``At Springwood, they took chain saws and Weed Eaters and cleaned off two miles of river bank so they could fish from the bank.''
Now Wilson searches for the remote holes, away from easy access, the kind you boat to in order to slip the crowds.
The flatheads prefer long, deep pools, with a slow-moving current, and maybe a downed tree nearby. During a recent early-evening outing, Wilson was at the perfect spot - a rock cliff on one side and posted property on the other limited walk-in access. As he approached it downstream, a flock of wood ducks darted from the dark water.
Wilson dropped an anchor fore and aft, placing his 12-foot boat perpendicular to the current. He then hooked on a large chub bait, weighted the line with a 3-ounce sinker, and flung it downstream.
``It took me forever to learn to cast these things,'' he said of his heavy tackle.
Twenty-minutes later, his line started twitching.
``It's going to go,'' he said.
Earlier, he had outlined what would happen.
``They take the bait from the rear,'' he told a newcomer to the sport. ``They will run with it. You will get this jerking, twisting, biting action. When they take off, they will burn your fingers they run so fast. They will run anywhere from 50 feet to 500 feet. Then he quits. When he quits, he has killed that bait and he spits it out and swallows it headfirst. Then he will take off again. That is when I nail him.''
Wilson watched the line dip several times.
``Come on big boy, take it,'' he said.
Line began free-spooling off his reel.
``There he is. He's taking off line like crazy. He ain't ready yet.''
When the line stopped, Wilson flipped the lever on his reel and waited until the heavy monofilament started feeding out again. When it did, he heaved back on his rod.
The tackle that had looked ridiculously large a few minutes earlier suddenly was being tested by a yellowish-brown fish with a wide mouth and flat head that made it look like a miniature tractor equipped with a front-end loader.
The fish came to the surface reluctantly, and when it saw the boat and the net stabbing at it with white mesh, it dived for the river bottom, splashing water as high as August corn. Wilson grunted, then battled it back a second time.
``I am gong to see if I can get my hand in its mouth,'' he said, thrusting his rod to his partner. He then grabbed the fish in the lower lip and heaved it aboard.
``He will take the tournament,'' Wilson said, catching his breath.
The tournament is a couple of contests that offer a prize for the biggest cat, at Cline Brother's Grocery and Bait Shop in Cloverdale and at Hilltop in Buchanan.
The fish weighed 231/4 pounds and measured 45 inches, the biggest Wilson had landed in two seasons.
State fish officials aren't certain how the flatheads got into the James, or the Roanoke (Staunton) River above Kerr Lake, which is another new hot spot for the species.
``I collected the first flathead out of the James in 1986,'' said David Whitehurst, who, at the time, was working as a fish biologist in the region for the Department of Game and Inland Fisheries. He now is the agency's deputy director. That first flathead was discovered during muskie research, Whitehurst said.
``I don't know how they got there,'' he said. ``I suppose some fishermen transported them from the Claytor Lake-New River area [where they are native].''
In the lower James, below Richmond, blue catfish have been providing big thrills for fishermen.
``We introduced those in the mid- to- late '70s," Whitehurst said. Most of them came from Texas, in a trade for Virginia-produced striped bass, he said.
Catfishing in the lower James has been less secretive, and has attracted catfish guides, clubs and a tournament series called CATS, for Catfish Anglers Tournament Society. Filling out the big three in the Virginia catfish family are channel cats, which have a wider distribution than the blues and flatheads.
As for the upper James, Whitehurst said it is uncertain if the big flatheads will have a negative impact on species that include bass and sunfish.
Wilson believes the omnivorous-feeding flatheads already have impacted other species, although 90 percent of the stomach contents that he has examined were crawfish. He did find a duck's head in one, and a 12-inch muskie in another.
One thing Wilson has noticed this summer is that the bass fishing has improved. The average smallmouths are larger than they have been in recent seasons. He credits that to the decline in the flatheads.
Wilson savors the river's fine smallmouth fishing, but catching bass is something he does while waiting for the heavyweight bout, when the big flatheads climb into the ring.
by CNB