![]() ![]() My plan is to fish through its changing personalities, from the Virginia Highlands through the newest national park in the country, West Virginia’s rock-and-rolling New River Gorge National Park. The New River switches things up like a carnival ride. Here a meandering river flowing through pastoral farm fields there a roaring whitewater cataract plunging through the deepest canyon in eastern North America. In West Virginia, I’ve caught smallmouth bass and trout from the New River, and rafted its Class V whitewater across three decades.ĭespite its name, the New is one of the oldest rivers in the world-younger than the Nile by just a few billion years, but just as exotic in its own way. Years later, my son, Jack, and I paddled and camped the New in Virginia, a beloved three-day summertime ritual we repeated a half-dozen times. When I graduated from high school, I set off on a week-long canoe trip along the New River in North Carolina. ![]() It’s been a while since I’ve been on the New River, a stream that’s run through my life for decades. As the fish runs-zipping line across the current and across the river-it all comes back to me. “Get with it, man!”īut on the next cast the rod tip bumps just so, and I set the hook. “Now you’re letting them pull your pants down!” he hollers. I shake my head, smiling, and then miss another fish that strikes short and tugs the soft-plastic grub into a gnarly wad at the end of the hook. ![]()
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