Throughout 2019 I spent time researching the brook trout fishing opportunities in Shenandoah National Park. I was waiting for the right time to hike in at an access point I’d discovered in Madison County, Virginia. Having talked to several people that were familiar with the area, a small tributary to the Rapidan River named Staunton Run seemed like a great place to start.
I drove south on Rt. 81 on the Friday following the Christmas holiday and got a hotel room in Culpepper, Virginia. Many of the small towns in Madison County are not large enough to support chain hotels, but there are many bed and breakfasts. I woke at 5:30AM on Saturday morning, rolled out of bed and grabbed one of those fake scrambled eggs and toasted hash brown breakfasts in the lobby. When I stepped outside the air temps were in the mid 40s and felt mild for late December. I drove southwest on Rt. 29, eventually heading back north towards the town of Graves Mill. You can follow Graves Road to its end at the parking lot for the Rapidan River Trail, which is located in the lower section of the Rapidan Wildlife Management Area.
When I arrived in the lot there was already a truck parked there. However, the windows were covered in morning mist leading me to believe that someone had spent the night in the state park with a state issued camping permit. I figured I’d be the first to wet a line. I gathered all of my gear, set-up my new Yamame 7’-3wt custom fiberglass rod and tied on a #18 Psycho Prince Nymph. I made sure I had food and water to last me until dark and I headed up the trail along the Rapidan River. The Rapidan is about 20 feet in width in the lower section. It took a good half-mile hike to reach Staunton Run, which is the first tributary that spills into the Rapidan from the west when entering the management area. It is impossible to miss Staunton run. The mouth is wide and full of cannonball size boulders. There is also a concrete marker place by the state, warning those on horseback that horses are not allowed on the Staunton Trail. I headed up the trail and then cut through the woods and down to the banks of Staunton Run. I took a second and looked around at the steepness of the mountains around me. The mountains in Virginia have a sharper ascent than those in Pennsylvania. The drainages feel more confined and the ribbons of water that cut through them descend quickly around many rocks, making for large plunge pools surrounded by large boulders.
The rocky entrance to Staunton Run.
Within the first 50 yards on lower Staunton I ran into a stream gauge station. This is the first large deep pool, followed by a long 45-degree waterfall. I skipped this water and hiked upstream another hundred yards before fishing. On my way I spooked several nice brook trout that were hiding in transitional rapids. Having finally arrived at an inviting pool, I unfurled by leader and cast my line, dropping my nymph at the base of a small waterfall. I watch my small indicator drift out into the tailout and there was no take. I cast again, this time to the left water seam and I felt the familiar tug of a brook trout. It was actually a quite nice brook trout, a solid 9” fish. After releasing this fish, I continued upstream. You don’t really hike Staunton Run; you rock hop it. I was wearing Simms wading boots with metal studs in them. They were effective on the dry rocks and moss, however, subsurface, they became very slippery, almost dangerously so.
I spent the next several hours slowly working my way from pool to pool, getting at least one take in each pool. The water was reading 48 degrees and the fish seemed a bit lethargic in the morning. By mid-afternoon the sun was high above and warmed the landscape. I had to stop and remove my fleece. While stopping to eat a sandwich I watched several hiking parties wander along the stream, curiously looking at me wondering what I was doing all the way up in the woods fishing on such a small stream. I could see their minds working, thinking, are there fish in there? I don’t particularly like fishing streams paralleled by hiking paths as they often times translate to less favorable fishing conditions due to ease of access.
As I finished up my sandwich, I looked up just in time to see a huge Siberian Husky running down the trail towards me. I readied myself and he took one big jump and landed right into the plunge pool I was about to fish. His owner was frantically running behind him yelling, while also apologizing. I was glad he was friendly, considering he was the size of a wolf. The owner reached the stream and said, “I call him the brook trout spooker.” I asked how long he’d been doing this upstream and the owner said only a couple of times to which I let out a sigh of relief, but secretly wondered if he was being truthful.
We parted ways and I kept fishing and catching wild brook trout here and there. Around 2:30PM, I noticed that the sun was dipping close to the top of the mountain. I’d read about this online and had been prepared for the temperature to drop. A short time later I looked upstream to see three people standing by the stream. I looked through the trees and sure enough, one of them had a fly rod. I figured he’d probably been fishing the stream down to me or had somehow snuck past me and didn’t know stream etiquette. I walked up and made friendly conversation and found that this was Mr. Murray, one of the caretakers of the Staunton Trail. I sensed he fished this stream often and he was surprised to learn I had come all the way from Pennsylvania. He was fishing dry flies and had found limited success with only a couple of takes on the surface. He said he had only fished 3 or 4 pools on the surface and that with a nymph I’d likely still catch some. Mr. Murray was a very nice man. I continued upstream.
The view on Staunton Run as the sun was dropping over the mountain.
The light at dusk was still good enough to see my indicator. I’d watched a majority of the trail hikers come down and then eventually I saw what I believed was the last one. It had gotten cold. I stood in the water staring at my dark reflection on the surface of the water. I decided I’d better make the two-mile hike back to my truck. I walked up out of the rocky canyon onto the Staunton Trail. I stopped and could see the stars and a large December crescent moon. I started walking. Eventually I had to use my iPhone to light my path. When I arrived at the intersection of the Staunton and Rapidan Trail I saw a light off in the distance and heard the voice of a woman. She eventually came closer and I asked if I could help. She said her name was Mary and that she’d lost her dog in the dark. I asked her if she wanted to walk with me back towards the lot and offered to help. We chatted and I learned she was visiting from Quantico and was an artificial intelligence specialist with the DOD. When we got back to the lot, I told her I didn’t know what to do about her dog. She decided to walk up the trail one last time as we were the last two in the lot. While I got changed and broke down my gear, I saw Mary come back down the trail and she was ecstatic to report she’d found her dog, which I couldn’t believe. We exchanged goodbyes in the dark and headed our separate ways. It was an interesting ending to my first trip to Virginia to chase wild brook trout.