Still hunting my white whale

Next stop, Maryland's Savage River

The fishing pond at Poor House Farm Park outside Martinsburg. My fishing partner Nic and I were out there this past Sunday.

Welcome back to the Porte Crayon Applejack Society, coming to you from Porte's hometown of Martinsburg, WV where the skies are blue over my front stoop and the garbage guys in their giant garbage truck slowly made their way through the neighborhood this morning, stopping at the bottom of each driveway to collect a week's worth of trash and hauling it away to a place less conspicuous.

I'm grateful for our garbage guys. They help keep things tidy and contribute to our general well-being. Without them, the neighborhood would look like a dump and probably smell like one, too.

The garbage truck was passing by my house as I took my coffee out to the stoop this morning. As it made its way down the street with one guy hanging off the back ready to leap into action, I noticed the neighborhood birds were chirping incessantly, deep in conversation.

Not to be conspiratorial, but I feel like they were making fun of me. They seemed to find it quite amusing that I haven't yet caught a brook trout.

Brookies have become my white whale.

Obviously, there's not much to report on the brook trout front, although I did spend a couple hours fishing late Sunday afternoon with my friend, Nic.

Nic is a good guy. We’ve known each other for years, ever since we arrived in the Eastern Panhandle at about the same time, in 2004. The thing is, though, he says he doesn’t have the patience for a fly rod and insists on using a spinning reel. I try not to judge him, but I’ve come to the conclusion that fly rods are the better way to go. At least, they suit me better than a spinning reel ever did.

Rather than simply launching a line out over the water in a single motion that doesn’t take much to master, fly fishers have to be more in tune with their gear to achieve the sort of looping cast that delivers a nearly weightless fly to its target on the water. Fly fishers are more involved in the casting process. It’s like driving a stick shift, rather than an automatic.

Am I becoming a snooty fly fisher?

Probably.

But I have no right to be a snob about it. After all, I’ve yet to catch anything substantial with a fly rod.

Oh sure, I’ve caught a few bluegill here and there. In fact, I caught a couple when Nic and I fished the pond at Poor House Farm Park this past Sunday.

Poor House is a popular place just outside Martinsburg. It boasts a youth football complex, soccer fields and a disc golf course. There’s a historic barn out there that dates back to 1844. It’s been restored and is available to host events. There are also several miles of walking trails. My wife doesn’t miss a chance to drag our Ornery Dog Jasper through the woods above the pond.

Poor House to me is a good place to practice my cast. There’s plenty of room around the pond and Lord knows I need it. So far, I’m largely a self-taught fly fisher and to quote the late Donald Rumsfeld, there are a lot of known unknowns about fly fishing that I still have to learn, and likely a few unknown unknowns which, taken together with my general incompetence, probably explains why I remain a brook trout virgin.

I’m planning to take another shot at catching a brookie later this month. I’m meeting up with some NPR friends in Morgantown in a couple of weeks. Thought I’d leave the house early to give myself time to stop by Maryland’s Savage River State Forest. The internet says the Savage is an excellent brook trout fishery. And when has the internet ever been wrong?

Don't answer that.

Have you fished the Savage?

Got any intelligence you can pass along?

Leave me a comment and I’ll see you on the radio this weekend.