The Virginia Sportsman Fall 2020

EQUESTRIAN HISTORY | FALL FAVORITES FOR SPORT AND STYLE | MARGO PRICE'S ROCK SOUND | CASTING FOR TROUT IN WYOMING

FALL 2020

KEEPING DOGS SAFE IN THE FIELD Venomous SnakeAversion Training

TARPON FISHING ON VIRGINIA'S EASTERN SHORE

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THE FALL 2020 ISSUE

FEATURES 22

28

A DAY OF DOG TRAINING

THAT'S SMOKING

Editor-at-large Eric Kallen takes his two dogs to Virginia’s Orapax upland hunting preserve for an essential venomous snakeaversion clinic.

Hank Shaw, James Beard Awardwinning author and hunter-anglergardener-cook, shares his recipe for smoked trout.

30 MISSION CASPAR

D.C. Angler breaks quarantine for a quick fly-fishing trip on the North Platte River.

36 V I R G I N I A' S EASTERN SHORE I S T H E B E STKEPT SECRET FOR S A L T W A T E R F LY FISHING. PHOTO

BY COREY MESSER

PHOTOGRAPHING THE HIGHEST RAILWAY ON EARTH

A look back on a life-changing journey to Peru in words and photos.

40 CAN YOU CATCH TARPON IN VIRGINIA?

With data showing a northern migration, our editor in chief heads to Virginia's Eastern Shore during a short summer window to try and hook a big one.

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DEPARTMENTS THE FALL 2020 ISSUE

12 FROM THE FIELD Climate Change is rapidly affecting North Carolina’s coast, and experts are warning that communities need to take action soon.

18 OUTFITTED As the leaves change and the air gets crisp, check out our editor-approved gear picks for fall sport and style.

N O R T H C A R O L I N A’ S BARRIER ISLANDS SOON WILL LOOK VERY DIFFERENT FROM T O D AY, T H A N K S T O A RISING SEA LEVEL.

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48 RAISE A GLASS This year marks the 400th anniversary of Virginia as the Birthplace of American Spirits.

Our staff reviews some of the best craft spirits currently being made around the Commonwealth.

W I L L I A M F O X- P I T T R E C E I V I N G A MEDAL FROM QUEEN ELIZABETH II AT T H E E U R O P E A N C H A M P I O N S H I P S , BLAIR CASTLE, 2015. ©FEI/LIZ GREGG,

60 WELL READ Our look at “An Illustrated History of Equestrian Sports: Dressage, Jumping, Eventing,” which documents the history of competitive horse-riding.

62 THE SOUND

60 48

Margo Price moves beyond country to embrace a dynamic rock sound on new album.

64 OPEN SPACES Exploring a Virginia cave gives a writer new connection to a distant relative.

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CRAFT DISTILLERIES, INCLUDING RICHMOND-BASED RESERVOIR, ARE THRIVING IN THE C O M M O N W E A LT H .

ON THE COVER F LY - F I S H I N G AND HUNTING GUIDE WES HODGES WITH HIS LLEWELLIN SETTER DUKE, PHOTO BY MIKE RENNIE, BLUE M O U N TA I N D R I F T.

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FALL 2020 | T H E V I R G I N I A S P O R T S M A N

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The Fall 2020 Issue

EDITOR’S NOTE

JOE SHIELDS CHECKS WITH GUIDE ZACH PFINGST AND POINTS TO A SMALL POD OF TA R P O N AT 2 O ’ C LO C K O N V I R G I N I A' S E A S T E R N S H O R E .

PHOTO BY CHRIS YOUNG

I

nearly went into anaphylactic shock while absorbing the introductory paragraphs in Eric Kallen’s cover story. I shouldn’t have been surprised by the snake—our editor-at-large gives the reader fair warning. He titled the article, “Keeping Dogs Safe in the Field and Yard,” but his sucker-punch strikes in the subheading: “Venomous-Snake Aversion Training.”

Somehow, I missed this. I assure you we hold routine editorial meetings (these days they’re usually virtual), and this publication is well planned. I thought it was a dog-training story, which it is. But the guy’s language and description still caught me off-guard: “My eyes adjusted to the light, and I suddenly recognized a large timber rattlesnake that shared the same girth as my arm. It must have been five feet long. The viper coiled with terrifying ease, and it gyrated its tail noisily to warn me of danger.”

Not to steal Kallen’s thunder, but the experience terrified him (and it scared me). He admits being frightened—and was thankful that his dogs were not with him on the outing.

Kallen’s dogs are good-natured and curious. He has a one-year-old Llewellin setter named Doc, and Maggie is a three-year-old flat-coated retriever. They are free to roam on hikes, so this fly-fishing excursion (cut short) could have been a disaster. But he did something about it—he found experts to train his dogs, so they steer clear of snakes.

You never know what you’re going to encounter in the natural world. Kallen had a

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close call with a large poisonous reptile. Recently I had a different experience in nature, one that I wrote about it in this issue because it was surprising. I caught a tarpon—fly fishing in Virginia.

Data collected by the Bonefish and Tarpon Trust proves that tarpon have been found as far north as Virginia Beach and the Chesapeake Bay. I assure you they were here, at least for a brief migratory window at the end of July.

We must have seen hundreds in an undisclosed bay. Fish broke the surface everywhere we looked. Their greenbacks caught the reflection of the sun. Some came rolling towards us with open mouths. There were lone fish and daisy-chaining pods. A few emerged close to the skiff, while others appeared in the distance, docile at play or feeding and well beyond reach of our casting abilities.

One cast—a blind one—worked out for me, and I experienced the violence and aerial displays you read about in books and magazines. I’ve chased plenty of tarpon in southwest Florida, but I’d never hooked one. I am still in awe of that fish. I’m hooked.

Wildlife is really something and well worth trips outdoors. Keep your eyes open—for a lot of reasons.

Michelle Nevarr Fine Art

Paintings and Painting Instruction, Group and Individual michellenevarrart@outlook.com

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FALL 2020 | T H E V I R G I N I A S P O R T S M A N

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The Fall 2020 Issue | FROM THE FIELD

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ABOUT FACE High Temperatures, Intense Storms and an Expanding Ocean Point to a Retreat from Carolina’s Coast B Y J . M I C H A E L W E LT O N

T

he numbers just don’t add up in favor of coastal North Carolina’s future. Consider these nuggets from a March 11 report by the North Carolina Institute for Climate Studies: Since 1895, the global average temperature has risen by about 1.8 degrees Fahrenheit. The years between 2009 and 2018 were the warmest 10-year period on record here—and 2019 was our hottest year yet. By the end of this century, temperatures are projected to increase by anywhere from one to eight degrees.

All that heat adds up to two outcomes, says Orrin H. Pilkey, the James B. Duke Professor Emeritus of Earth Sciences at Duke University. “Global climate change means an increase in the intensity of storms—both hurricanes and Nor’easters—as oceans pick up energy from warm water,” he says. “And the ocean is expanding.”

That’s because as the ocean warms, its water molecules expand. “Think of it like you and I stretching when we wake up in the morning,” says Reide Corbett, executive director of the Coastal Studies Institute. “Water stretches as it warms, and that leads to an expansion of ocean A S T H E AT L A N T I C R I S E S , EXPERTS ARE ENCOURAGING A N E W WAY O F T H I N K I N G A B O U T D E V E LO P M E N T F O R C OA S TA L COMMUNITIES. PHOTO COURTESY OF GETTY IMAGES

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water. In addition, warmer temperatures are leading to more melting that adds more water to the ocean.”

The report notes that the global average sea level has increased by about seven to eight inches since 1900—with almost half the increase since 1993. In Wilmington alone, the sea level has risen almost an inch per decade since 1935. That will accelerate in the future.

“Some say downtown Wilmington sits on a bluff and it doesn’t matter, except for those living down by the water, when the flooding will go up,” says Mark Johnson, president of Civitas, a nationally known collective of landscape architects, urban planners and architects. “But the frequency will increase.”

It’s a virtual certainty that sea levels along the North Carolina coast will continue to rise—from the expanding Atlantic Ocean and the melting ice sheets in Greenland and Antarctica. “If you project out to 2100, there could be between .40 centimeters and one meter of increased sea level,” says Corbett.

SHIFTING SANDS

That means North Carolina’s barrier islands soon will look very different, though each will change in its own way. Corbett notes that relative sea level rise—which takes into account the elevation change of local land mass—will vary in places like Duck and Wilmington.

“In Duck, the rise is .45 centimeters a year and in Wilmington it’s .24 centimeters a year, about half the rate at Duck,” he says. “At Duck, the land is currently sinking due to a long-term geological process called a ‘glacial

IN WILMINGTON, THE SEA LEVEL HAS RISEN ALMOST AN INCH PER DECADE SINCE 1935. PHOTO COURTESY OF GETTY IMAGES

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isostatic adjustment,’ that was associated with the last ice age.”

Sixteen thousand years ago, a massive ice sheet two miles thick covered the Midwestern and Northeastern United States, as well as much of Canada. The glacier pushed down the continental crust directly underneath it but created a bulge along the edges that geologists call a forebulge.

Northeast North Carolina, including the area around Duck, is on one of those edges. Now it’s slowly sinking—about a millimeter a year—from forebulge collapse, even though the ice retreated thousands of years ago.

“Wilmington is not changing much at all—but Duck is still sinking,” he says.

Corbett, a co-author of the March 11 report, serves on the climate science advisory panel at NCICS. It’s a research institute of the University of North Carolina system administered by NC State, and its report formally confirmed what most beach-goers have known for years: The Atlantic Ocean is on the rise—and we need to think differently about how we respond.

“The barrier islands have been around for thousands of years and the sea level has fluctuated—but we’ve come in and developed them,” Corbett says. “Now we have to do things differently—we need to put plans in place for things happening in the next decade, and certainly in the next 50 years.”

BEACH NOURISHMENT

Not everyone thinks that way. The NCICS report was made public two months after a head-scratcher of a January announcement from the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. It committed $237 million in taxpayer dollars to build dunes and widen beaches on Topsail Island’s Surf City and North Topsail Beach. Neither town has received federal disaster funds before; local taxes have funded previous beach nourishment projects.

Surprisingly, that announcement came six months after a report from

the Western Carolina University Program for the Study of Developed Shorelines, suggesting it would be cheaper to buy 347 houses on North Topsail than spend millions more on nourishment, sandbags or groins. The total to purchase and remove the homes, plus lost property tax revenue would have been $57.6 million.

Alas, the town couldn’t see it. “It works only if all the property owners agree and people are not going to agree,” North Topsail Mayor Dan Tuman told the News & Observer in Raleigh.

None of the Corps’ $237 million is slated for the quickly disappearing northern end of the island. Instead, it’s planned for six miles of Surf City beaches and a 10-mile stretch of North Topsail.

That includes four miles of southern North Topsail Beach where Hurricane Florence damaged the island most heavily in 2018. The Charlotte Observer reported that 77 buildings were destroyed or suffered major damage there, and another 874 had minor damage.

U.S. Senators Tom Tillis and Richard Burr backed the beach nourishment projects. “Each storm that hits North Carolina takes a toll on our beaches and river basins,” Burr said at the time. “After the historic damage inflicted by recent hurricanes, it was clear that more preventive measures needed to be taken to better protect our coastal communities.”

Whether beach nourishment can actually “better protect” Topsail Island in perpetuity is iffy at best. Sure, the federal government and the Army Corps of Engineers can pump money and sand onto its beaches today—but they’ll likely find it all washed away by the next big storm. In the short term, it’s a boon to homeowners, tourists and the towns. But in the long run? Not so much.

To the experts, development and beach nourishment on North Topsail is a questionable proposition. “I now consider North Topsail Island to be the least suitable barrier island in development on the east coast of the U.S.,” says Pilkey.

Money drives these nourishment projects, he asserts. But money can’t stop the ocean’s rise. “By the end of this century, the consensus is that it will go up at least three feet,” he says. “Maybe it will go up four feet—but three feet, and Topsail Island is gone.”

To understand the potential for beach erosion requires an understanding of the gentle slope of the coastal plane. A one-foot sea-level rise in theory pushes the coastline back 100 feet. “I would expect the Outer Banks of North Carolina will be gone in three or four decades,” he says.

The Outer Banks differ from other barrier islands because they have large bodies of water – Pamlico and Albemarle Sounds—behind them.

“The wind changes direction at the end of a storm and comes across from the other side, and all that water is pushed right over the island, like what happened at Ocracoke with Dorian,” he says.

The result is a natural erosion of sand on the ocean side and a buildup on the sound side. “When a storm comes, the overwash puts sand and increased real estate on the back side,” says Corbett.

When developers, homeowners and municipalities try to maintain the shoreline in place, they push sand back onto beaches with nourishment— to keep the first line of defense in the same spot. But as the ocean continues to rise, that becomes more of a challenge. “There will come a point where it does not make sense to nourish the beaches—but each location is different, with tax bases and erosion rates,” Corbett says.

The biggest problem with beach nourishment is that it provides a false sense of security, whatever its source of funding. On the Outer Banks,

“Each storm that hits North Carolina takes a toll on our beaches and river basins,” Burr said at the time.

“After the historic damage inflicted by recent hurricanes, it was clear that more preventive measures needed to be taken to better protect our coastal communities.”

R E L AT I V E S E A L E V E L R I S E — W H I C H TA K E S I N TO AC C O U N T T H E E L E VAT I O N C H A N G E O F LO C A L L A N D M A S S — W I L L VA RY I N P L AC E S L I K E W I L M I N G TO N , D U C K A N D B E A U F O R T. G R A P H S F R O M N O R T H C A R O L I N A C L I M AT E SCIENCE REPORT

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nourishment is paid for with local money, while federal funds are available elsewhere. “If there are losses of a certain amount of sand during a storm, a locality can go to FEMA for federal dollars if it demonstrates it’s done the correct monitoring,” Corbett says. “But that’s different from Corps of Engineers projects.”

The Corps’s North Topsail and Surf City nourishment projects will be far and away the most expensive on the east coast, according to Pilkey.

But for homeowners, tourists and towns, it’s free. “The problem is that it’s hurricane-recovery money—and the people and the state don’t have to pay for it,” he says. “If people don’t have to pay for it, and all this money comes down from heaven, why think about alternatives?”

LONG-TERM SOLUTIONS

Besides, the alternatives aren’t very appealing. One strategy is to raise a building or another part of its site, another is to harden its edge with a wall and a third is to retreat.

Raising a building or dune is still a temporary solution to a steadily encroaching problem. Seawalls, groins or sandbags don’t address the erosion process—and eventually destroy the beach that’s so desirable. And moving a house back a row or two may be a longer-term solution, but it’s not permanent—and it is expensive. Only the wealthy can afford it.

That leaves only one effective alternative—and it responds to nature over the long haul. “The most environmentally sound solution is to plan for a retreat and plan for the ecosystem to accommodate those occasional hurricanes and surges,” says Mark Johnson of Civitas. “One thing is sure: As the climate changes, the species will migrate to find the environmental conditions that satisfy them—it’s a combination of climate, soil and hydrology.”

A long-term retreat could mean a huge oceanfront park for the Carolina coast—open to the public 360 days a year and closed during times of hurricanes and surges. “You move back and basically let it go,” says Pilkey.

“You move the houses or demolish them. The Portuguese are doing that O N E S T R AT E G Y F O R D E A L I N G W I T H S E A- L E V E L R I S E I S TO H A R D E N T H E L A N D AT T H E WAT E R ’ S E D G E W I T H A S E A WA L L .

PHOTO COURTESY OF GETTY IMAGES

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now—moving communities back from the beach.”

In the coming years, each coastal municipality will have to discuss its own options for sea-level rise. “The town needs to think about what to do—you don’t want to plan only on nourishment,” Corbett says. “You need to think about what the community wants to do when nourishment is not feasible—and residents need to make that decision.”

Currently, hard questions are not being asked except after a hurricane or Nor’easter, and then the responses are reactive. Residents want to rebuild quickly and resume their lifestyle. “So what is the tipping point?”

Corbett asks. “There aren’t enough communities thinking about it—they’re thinking about running a town instead.”

The need today, he says, is to bring an entire community together and create a future action plan, so that when a Dorian or Florence comes through, officials can put that plan in place—with a change in building codes or locations. “It’s a really tough discussion to have,” he says. “I live on a barrier island, and my house is high—but I have to drive on roads that aren’t, so what do I do when I need to get to work?”

That opens up an entirely new question about low-lying infrastructure— the roads, sewers and septic systems that serve the barrier islands. “As the sea levels increase by six inches or a foot, the tide leads to flooding like we see in the Hampton Roads area,” he says. “We don’t see that yet but give it 20 years—and in 100 years many coastal areas will see “sunny-day flooding” every day.”

Ultimately, eyes will open when money no longer solves the problem.

“Look at the changes happening in our lifetime,” says Johnson. “Species don’t adapt that quickly, but ultimately they adapt and move.”

As temperatures rise and beaches erode, that’s a fact of life for the future of Carolina’s barrier islands.

J. Michael Welton writes about architecture, art and design for national and international publications. He is architecture critic for The News & Observer in Raleigh, N.C., and author of “Drawing from Practice: Architects and the Meaning of Freehand” (Routledge, 2015). He is also editor and publisher of an online design magazine at www.architectsandartisans.com.

2020 FALL SCHEDULE

SEPT. 18 - OCT. 17: Harness Racing at Shenandoah Downs OCTOBER 4 - Foxfield Fall Races OCTOBER 10 - Middleburg Fall Races OCTOBER 24 - International Gold Cup Races NOVEMBER 7 - Montpelier Hunt Races WWW.VIRGINIAHORSERACING.COM

*Please check our website prior to race dates for updated race information and attendance guidelines.

The Fall 2020 Issue | OUTFITTED

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AUTUMN GEAR FOR SPORT AND STYLE As the leaves change color and the air gets crisp, get outfitted for fall adventures with a selection of new seasonal essentials.

BY ERIC KALLEN AND JEDD FERRIS

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YETI RAMBLER 26 OZ. STACKABLE CUP [1] When you need a little extra liquid, this version of the beloved Yeti Rambler does the job. With 26 ounces of capacity you can fit two cans of beer (with a little room to spare) in this cup made from kitchen-grade stainless steel and constructed with double-wall vacuum insulation that will keep your beverage of choice hot or cold for hours upon hours. Plus, the stackable design means easy packing of multiple cups when you’re heading to the lake or the lodge. $29.99; yeti.com

IRISH SETTER TRAILBLAZER BOOTS [2] No matter what you’re doing this fall, the Trailblazer boot has you covered.

Whether you’re planning on hiking, working, hunting or just kicking around town, this Irish Setter boot has a blend of tradition and technology that won’t disappoint.

Manufactured with waterproof leather uppers, the Trailblazer incorporates Scent Ban technology for people who will wear the boots in the field, as well as an aggressive lug pattern on the sole that makes this boot suitable for any conditions on difficult terrain. Comfortable and wearable right out of the box, these boots showcase the quality and innovation that Irish Setter boots have been known for since 1950. $184.99; irishsetterboots.com

2 3

UST FILLMATIC SLEEPING MAT [3] Ust has been making camping gear since 1936, and after a recent rebrand the company is back with a new stash of goods for sleeping in the woods. The Fillmatic is an extremely comfortable, self-inflating sleeping pad that inflates and deflates easily with a two-way valve. It comes in two sizes—regular at 72 inches and extra-large at 80—and can also be clipped together with another mat to make a double bed. $179.99-199.99; ustgear.com

PRANA WILD ROGUE JACKET [4] When temperatures gradually begin to drop during the fall months, Prana’s Wild Rogue is a stylish, sustainably produced option that’s just right for urban walkabouts and park strolls.

The slim-fit jacket is made from organic cotton moleskin that offers a casual, timeless look, while a soft Oxford interior lining offers smooth comfort and plenty of warmth on windy autumn afternoons. $139; prana.com

OSPREY ARCANE ROLL TOP HEMP [5] Osprey—makers of well-reputed packs for backcountry exploration— go the casually functional route 5 with this everyday bag made from a blend of hemp and recycled poly.

Great for commuting, the Arcane Roll Top features sleek construction with clean lines, offering an understated look with plenty of features for the daily grind. In addition to a 15-inch padded laptop sleeve and a stretchy side pocket for your water bottle, the bag offers ample storage (over 1,300 cubic inches) between the roll-top main compartment and the convenient front-panel stash pocket. $140; osprey.com

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6 7 GLERUPS BOOT [6] Great for cabin getaways and chilly morning fall walks, Glerups are made with 100-percent natural wool that absorbs moisture and flexibly shapes to the contours of your fee. While these boots certainly have the warm and comfortable feel of a favorite slipper, they also feature durable rubber soles that can handle light impact on outdoor surfaces. $155; glerups.com

ANTHONY I. MATARESE JR. SPORTING CLAYS FOUNDATION AND ADVANCED INSTRUCTIONAL DVDS [7] When it comes to shooting sporting clays, if it isn’t broke, it’s time to fix it. And there’s no better way to improve your shooting than learning from Anthony Matarese Jr., one of the best sporting-clays shooters of all time. His accomplishments and credentials are second to none. Matarese Jr. is a 23-time All-American team member, U.S. National and World Sporting Clays Champion and the youngest shooter in history to be inducted into the National Sporting Clays Hall of Fame. He spent most of his life shooting and teaching the art of sporting clays. Recently, he released a two-DVD set that includes four hours of instructional content broken down into Foundation and Advanced sections. These DVDs are the perfect tools for anyone who wants to shoot better. The Foundation chapters cover topics ranging from gun mount and stance, to focus techniques and shooting fundamentals—basically everything you need to know to get started.

The Advanced chapters discuss specific targets with strategies on how to break clays, including flying rabbits, low

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incomers and tower shots. The DVDs are very well produced, using stateof-the-art camera work and graphics to enhance the learning. This shooting champion has you covered. $229.00; clayshootinginstruction.com

KRIEGHOFF K-80 PARCOURS 34” O/U COMPETITION SHOTGUN [8] Krieghoff is a legendary shotgun brand, and its K-80 receiver has a reputation for reliability, balance and light weight. Offered in a variety of barrel configurations, the versatile K-80 Parcours has become one of the top competition shotguns in the United States for trap, skeet and sporting-clays shooters. Kreighoff’s release of the new K-80 Parcours 34” O/U competition shotgun marks the next step in the K-80’s evolution. The new gun is specially designed for sporting-clays shooters who want to crush longer target presentations; it features an extended sighting plane for a distinct and accurate sight picture. The K-80’s light weight and balance compensate for longer barrels without compromising swing. The standard K-80 34” Parcours configuration features a true right- or left-hand stock, beautiful scroll engraving and fixed choke tubes with a soldered rib. Kreighoff’s new Thin Wall chokes and custom engraving are also available. Price list available at www. krieghoff.com

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S MAL L T OWNS

Stay a While B IG B AC K Y ARDS

Sera Petras Photography

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THE AUTHOR’S DOGS DOC AND MAGGIE GET READY FOR THEIR VENOMOUS SNAKEAV E R S I O N T R A I N I N G SESSION.

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KEEPING DOGS SAFE IN THE FIELD AND YARD VE NOMO U S S N A KE -AV E R S I O N T R A I N I N G

STORY AND PHOTOS BY ERIC KALLEN

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he day began like so many others in the mountains of western North Carolina: with a hike on an old logging road to one of my favorite mountain streams, Robinson Creek. The creek is remote and sits at the base of steep cliffs with an eerie backdrop; its dense vegetation limits visibility and leaves little room for back-casting. But this day turned out to be different.

I prepared to traverse the old bridge that’s situated above the creek. It provides access to the cool, springfed waters that make Robinson Creek so special. As I prepared to cross, a long, black object interrupted my peripheral vision. I sensed it before it came into focus. I looked to my left and into the grass off the road. My eyes adjusted to the light, and I suddenly recognized a large timber rattlesnake that shared the same girth as my arm.

It must have been five feet long. The viper coiled with terrifying ease, and it gyrated its tail noisily to warn me of danger.

Something primitive in me kicked in. I froze, for sure, but I experienced a sensation I had never felt before. I cut my fishing trip short and headed back to the car. I shook the whole way home.

That encounter left a mark. I am a cautious hiker and always look out for snakes and other wildlife. I also care about my dogs, and I am thankful I decided at the last minute to leave them at the house that morning.

Like most dogs, mine are good natured and curious.

I have a one-year-old Llewellin setter name Doc, and a three-year-old flat-coated retriever named Maggie. The dogs are rarely by my side on hikes; they are free to roam and explore. I believe I was most upset by what could have happened if they were with me. I could have exposed one or both of them to a fatal encounter with a large, venomous snake in the wild.

When I got home, I petted both dogs and told myself I was overreacting. Then I went online to do a little research and was startled by what I discovered. The American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA) estimates nearly 100,000 dogs and cats are bitten by venomous snakes each year. The mortality rates range from one to 30 percent depending on the size of the pet, species of snake and location of the bite.

D O C D E M O N S T R AT E S A R E LU C TA N C E TO APPROACH THE CAGED TIMBER R AT T L E S N A K E A F T E R R E C E I V I N G A H I G H L E V E L E - C O L L A R S T I M U L AT I O N .

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“No method is full proof,” he replied. “But what we do is expose dogs to venomous snakes.

We let them see and smell snakes. This exposure gives them a full sensory experience, and then we apply a momentary, high-level stimulation from an e-collar. The dogs then associate the snake with the painful stimulation, and the desired avoidance kicks in.”

There are three types of venomous snakes in the Mid-Atlantic: the eastern copperhead, northern cottonmouth and my new friend—the timber rattlesnake. All three are pit vipers and have a heat-sensitive pit organ between the eye and nostril on both sides of the head. They use the organ to detect prey. I wanted to learn more and turned to Jeff Beane, herpetologist at the North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences.

“These snakes aren’t aggressive and will only bite if they feel threatened or are frightened by someone who may step on or near them,” said Beane. “They defend themselves. Most people misinterpret the snake’s actions. People believe that when a snake defends itself it is being aggressive. Nothing is further from the truth; snakes will only strike as a last resort.”

“What about dogs and snakes?” I asked.

“The frequency in which dogs are bitten by snakes is a strange thing. I think it could be attributable to the danger avoidance instinct that is being bred out of them. You rarely hear of wild canids being bitten by snakes. I believe wild dogs have retained some genetically programmed behavior.

They either give venomous snakes a wide berth, or they are quickly capable of killing snakes without being bitten.”

My new-found knowledge made me uneasy, so I reached out to my friend Neal Kauder to get his perspective on my recent pit-viper encounter. Kauder is a professional dog trainer, and he and his wife Jane own and operate Orapax Hunting Preserve in Virginia. He has been instrumental in helping me get my dogs ready for the field.

“Snakes can be a problem for all dogs—not just hunting dogs,” Kauder explained. “We see as many dogs getting bitten by poisonous snakes in their backyards as we do in the fields. That’s why we offer an annual snake-aversion clinic at Orapax. I highly recommend you attend this year and bring your dogs.”

I couldn’t say no to his intelligent recommendation and welcome invitation. When I arrived at Orapax, Kauder introduced me to Grayson Guyer, owner of Lost Highway Kennels in Winston Salem, North Carolina. Guyer raises and trains hunting dogs and regularly holds snake-aversion clinics.

“Dogs and venomous snakes don’t mix,” Guyer said. “Dogs are naturally curious and often put these snakes in a position where they feel the need to strike.”

“What’s your process look like?”

“No method is full proof,” he replied. “But what we do is expose dogs to venomous snakes. We let them see and smell snakes. This exposure gives them a full sensory experience, and then we apply a momentary, high-level stimulation from an e-collar. The dogs then associate the snake with the painful stimulation, and the desired avoidance kicks in.”

“The correction level isn’t high enough to harm the dog, but it is high enough to make the dog associate the shock with a snake encounter,”

(CLOCKWISE FROM LEFT) A HANDLER FROM CCSB REPTILE RESCUE AND REHAB SHOWS OFF THE COPPERHEAD USED I N T H E DAY ’ S T R A I N I N G . A N E N C O U N T E R W I T H A T I M B E R R AT T L E S N A K E L E F T T H E AU T H O R S H A K E N — S O M U C H S O T H AT H E F O U N D S N A K E -AV E R S I O N T R A I N I N G F O R H I S D O G S . D O C L E T ’ S O R A PA X ’ S N E A L K A U D E R K N O W T H AT T H E R E A R E N O H A R D F E E L I N G S A F T E R T H E DAY ’ S TRAINING.

Kauder added, so that I understood the impact the shock will have on my dogs. “We call this a one-time, negative-aversion learning event.”

I thought a momentary shock from an e-collar was a small price to pay for potentially saving my dogs’ lives. Kauder agreed.

“All of my dogs have been through the program multiple times,” he said. “I’ve seen first-hand where they have avoided run-ins with snakes while hunting.”

Fifty dogs were led through the program that day, and some dog owners travelled from Pennsylvania and other long distances to attend the clinic. My two were the last to go, and I was able to observe how they reacted as Guyer trained them.

First, Guyer fitted each dog with an e-collar. Then he walked Doc and Maggie towards the first of two boxes; the first box held a copperhead, the second confined a timber rattlesnake. The trainer allowed each dog to approach the box freely. This gave Doc and Maggie the opportunity to see and smell the snake. Both my dogs fell victim to curiosity and temptation.

They approached and actually touched the first box.

“That’s the reaction we expect, and it’s actually what we want to happen,” said Guyer. “That behavior gives us permission to apply the e-collar stimulation. The correction creates a relationship between the snake and discomfort from the collar.”

Next, Guyer led them to the second box. I admit the sound of the snake’s rattle sent a chill up my spine. The dogs’ enthusiast behavior they displayed moments ago was already gone. They acted like something was wrong, and neither dog approached the box or showed any interest in it.

Lesson learned.

In the final step of training, Guyer exposed the dogs to an uncaged, non-venomous boa constrictor. I observed Doc and Maggie pass this final test with flying colors; they wanted no part of the snake.

Relieved, I left Orapax hopeful that my dogs will remember this training if they ever have a chance encounter with a snake in the hunting field—or my backyard. As pet owners, we owe it to both species to keep them safe.

Learn more at www.orapax.com, www.losthighwaykennels.com and www.ccsbreptilerescue.webs.com.

Eric Kallen is the editor-at-large of The Virginia Sportsman.

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PHOTO BY HANK SHAW

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SMOKED TROUT

BY HANK SHAW Serves 4, and can be scaled up Prep Time: 20 min | Brine Time: 8 hrs | Cook Time: 2 hrs Total Time: 10 hrs, 20 min For most of the country, smoked trout means smoked whole trout, not the big slabs of fillets Salmon Nation is accustomed to. So if you catch trout generally smaller than 18 inches, this recipe is for you.

(Note, if you are looking for ways to smoke larger fish, use my smoked salmon or my smoked lake trout recipes.)

There are any number of ways to smoke trout, and this is my method: I’d be interested to hear if you do anything differently.

First, you need trout. Obviously. I prefer fish from about 10 to 20 inches, gutted and gilled. Any species will do, but in a perfect world it’d be brook trout, which are actually a char and have vivid orange meat. Another excellent choice is a kokanee, which is a landlocked sockeye salmon that rarely grows larger than 20 inches. They also have pretty orange meat.

But mostly I use rainbow trout from the Sierra Nevada. You can use store-bought rainbows if that’s all you can get.

To salt or brine? That’s a decision largely based on how many fish you are smoking, and what sort of containers you have. If I am only smoking a few fish, I will dry salt them. If I have a mess o’trout, I will make a salt-sugar brine and soak the fish in that.

How long? For dry salting, generally about 1 to 2 hours. Brine? You can go a lot longer, and it will create a more cured, salty and firm product the longer you leave it. I like a day-long brine, i.e., brine in the morning and remove around dinnertime.

You then need to dry the fish in a cool place. I set them in the fridge in a rack overnight. You need this step to create a tacky, sticky pellicle on the outside of the fish. This helps the smoke adhere to the trout. Skip this step and it won’t be as nice.

How to set them up? You can hang your trout as I do in the picture, but you will need to leave the throats intact, like the fish on the left.

That one stayed fine while smoking. The ones on the right fell, so I moved them to the rack.

You will want to put a little stick in the fish’s cavity to prop it open — this allows the smoke to permeate the fish better. I use rosemary twigs, but any twigs will work.

What wood? Something mild. I prefer alder, but oak or fruit woods are good choices, as is maple. But honestly, if you are in love with mesquite or something heavier, go ahead and use it — you won’t be smoking your trout very long anyway.

I like to get a slow ramp up in temperature for my smoked trout. I put the fish in cold in a cold smoker (I am using a Traeger these days) set on a low heat. If you want things to move even slower, set a tray of ice in the smoker.

You never want the temperature to get beyond 225°F because at that point you’re barbecuing fish, which is nice, but not what we’re after here. I like the temperature to be somewhere between 175°F and 200°F. How long to smoke? At least an hour, and to me, 90 minutes to 2 hours is ideal. I would not go more than 4 hours with such little trout.

You want decent smoke time, but you don’t want trout jerky.

You can eat your smoked trout warm right out of the smoker, or chilled. They will keep a little more than a week in the fridge, and freeze nicely. If you are freezing some, stuff paper towels in the fish’s cavity to keep out air, which can cause freezer burn over time.

SMOKED TROUT 4 w h o l e tr o u t, g u tte d an d g illed 1/ 2 c u p ko s h er s a l t 1/ 2 c u p br o w n s u g a r I n s tr u c ti o n s

Directions 1. Mix the salt and sugar with a gallon of water and stir to dissolve the salt and sugar. Submerge the trout in this brine and put in the fridge, covered, for at least 2 hours and up to overnight.

2. Remove the trout from the brine (discard the brine), pat dry with paper towels and set on a rack over a baking sheet in the fridge for at least a few hours, and up to overnight. You can also set the fish to dry in a cool, breezy place for a few hours.

3. Put the fish in the smoker, hanging or on the grates, and get a nice cool smoke going. Slowly let the temperature rise to 200F and hold it between 175F and 200F for at least an hour, and up to 4 hours; I prefer 2 hours. Do not let the temperature get above 225F. If it does, set a tray of ice in the smoker.

4. When your trout are smoked, you can eat them warm or chilled.

Visit honest-food.net for other recipes.

NOTE THIS IS A RECIPE FOR WHOLE SMOKED TROUT OR KOKANEE. IF YOU WANT TO SMOKE FILLETS, I'D GO TO MY SMOKED LAKE TROUT RECIPE, WHICH IS MEANT FOR BIGGER FISH. I PREFER ALDER, OAK OR MAPLE WOOD TO SMOKE OVER, BUT IT'S YOUR CALL.

Hank Shaw is a chef, hunter, angler, forager and wild-foods expert constantly on the lookout for new things to gather, catch and eat. He is the author of four wild-game cookbooks: “Hunt, Gather, Cook: Finding the Forgotten Feast” (2011); “Duck, Duck, Goose: Recipes and Techniques for Ducks and Geese, both Wild and Domesticated” (2013); “Buck, Buck, Moose: Recipes and Techniques for Cooking Deer, Elk, Moose, Antelope and Other Antlered Things” (2016); and “Pheasant, Quail, Cottontail: Upland Birds and Small Game from Field to Feast” (2018).

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Trout Fishing in Caspar Photo Essay: Fly Fisher Breaks Quarantine for Sanity on Wyoming River

BY CHRIS YOUNG I hadn’t left Washington, D.C., in months. It was 65 degrees in my basement and 95 degrees outside when I received the text from my friend Darin Guries.

“Hey man, if you’re able to make it out fishing for a couple days next month, fly into Caspar and we can pick you up.”

“I’ll look into it,” I said, and I did, quickly.

It took 90 seconds to check flights and five minutes to discuss with my wife. (“So, weren’t you thinking about going to visit your parents the week of July 6? Because if you are, I could go visit Darin, just for a couple days. Flights are really cheap. I’ll wear a mask. Not sure, but we might do some fishing.”) It took another 90 seconds to book flights, and five minutes to find and order an industrial face mask online. Two weeks until wheels up.

( L E F T ) D A R I N G U R I E S A N D F LY - F I S H I N G G U I D E K R A Y LUTZ POSE WITH A TYPICAL MIRACLE MILE RAINBOW T R O U T. ( B E L O W ) O N E O F M A N Y M O R N I N G H O O K U P S O N T H E N O R T H P L AT T E R I V E R

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The population of Caspar, the second largest city in Wyoming, could fit in Virginia Tech’s Lane Stadium with about 10,000 seats to spare. It’s a small oil-cowboy town. Pretty nondescript, but the North Platte River cuts a green-lined, deep-blue path through the high desert plains surrounding it. With dozens of miles of fishable water, the world-class trout fishing there makes up for the lack of company.

A body of water has to be a pretty special place to earn a moniker like “Jurassic Lake,” “Fisherman’s Paradise” or “Land of Giants.” The five-mile stretch of the North Platte runs between Kortes Dam and Pathfinder Reservoir; its nickname “Miracle Mile” is no exception. The tailrace is loaded with some of the biggest, strongest rainbows in the lower-48; it also has a healthy population of Snake River cutthroats, browns and “cutbows.”

Our guide, 31-year-old Kray Lutz, first started guiding for Guries and his dad 16 years ago—meaning they had to drive him to and from the river because he wasn’t old enough to drive.

( A B O V E ) G U I D E S TA K E A B R E A K F R O M T H E H I G H - D E S E R T H E AT. ( B E L O W ) M A N ’ S B E S T F R I E N D G E T S A P E T D U R I N G A BREAK FROM THE FISHING.

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There aren’t many streams on the East Coast (the Big D, the SoHo, the Tauga?) where you can count on regular shots at a 20-inch wild trout….let alone handfuls of them. While neither of us caught a personal best, we hit a handful of prop bets—Brown, Bow, Cutbow, Cuttie Grand Slam? SURE. Two 20-plus-inch bows on consecutive casts? YUP. A 20-inch brown, bow and cutbow in a 24-hour period? CHECK. Four days later, sitting on a packed flight back to D.C., I questioned whether breaking quarantine was worth it. But 14 days later, feeling fit and without even a sniffle, I have no doubts.

Book a trip with Wyoming Fly Fishing Guide Service at www.platteriverguides.com, or contact Greg Mueller at (307) 267-5494.

Chris Young is a lawyer in Washington, D.C. He is obsessed to fly fishing.

(CLOCKWISE FROM LEFT) A BOX OF STREAMERS IS READY IN CASE THERE IS A BREAK FROM THE SUN. A CABIN ON THE RED BUTTE RANCH PROVIDES A GOOD HOME BASE. NOTHING BUT BLUE SKIES AND A HANDFUL O F G U I D E R I G S AT T H E TA K E O U T.

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Photographing the

HIIGHEST RAILWAY ON EARTH STORY AND PHOTOS BY CHILES T. A. LARSON

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n June 1967, a colleague presented me with an opportunity.

He asked if I would travel with him to Peru for three weeks to photograph the highest railway in the world. I was familiar with Alex Crosby’s work and couldn’t say no.

Crosby was the author of a book about Peru’s Rimac River. While there, he became intrigued by the Peruvian Central Railway (now the Ferrocarril Central Andino, or FCCA), which follows the river nearly 16,000 feet into the Andes Mountains. He thought a book about the subject would be worth writing, and I wanted to help him illustrate the book.

After a quick bit of research, I learned the mastermind behind the Peruvian railroad was American promoter, entrepreneur and railroad builder Henry Meiggs, who successfully engineered several railroad projects in the United States and Chile. In 1868, the Peruvian government contacted him to build a railroad. Later that year, Meiggs was cited for fraud in the construction of a 2,000-foot wharf in the San Francisco Bay. Meiggs absconded aboard the brig America bound for South America. His creditors learned about his escape and pursued the sailing vessel with a fast steamer. The chase was cut short, however, when the engine failed just before overtaking America.

When he arrived in Peru, Meiggs recovered his finances and put his talents to work. He hired Peruvian, Chilean and Chinese laborers. Under his direction, they completed more than 60 steel bridges and tunnels, with numerous switchbacks that enabled the railroad to extend from Lima to the summit at La Oroya.

The railroad eventually reached an altitude of 15,692 feet after they completed the Galera summit tunnel under Mount Meiggs. This feat made it the highest railroad in the world until the opening of the Qingzang railway in Tibet a number of years later.

I also learned Meiggs’ name was cleared 100 years after his death.

I

arrived in Lima and joined Crosby at the Plaza de Armas Hotel. After checking in, we strolled around the large square across from the hotel and saw the Government Palace, the Cathedral of Lima and the archbishops Palace, which features impressive, ornate cedar balconies.

We entered the cathedral. Conquistador Francisco Pizarro laid the structure’s first stone in January 1535. At the time, his mummified remains were on display in a glass casket. In 1977, workers uncovered a different ( L E F T ) T H E P E R U V I A N C E N T R A L R A I LWAY ’ S T R AC K S PA S S T H R O U G H S P E C TA C U L A R L A N D S C A P E S U P WA R D PA R A L L E L T O T H E R I M A C R I V E R F R O M L I M A C L O S E T O T H E L A O R O YA S U M M I T. (ABOVE) MACHU PICCHU WAS CONSTRUCTED AS A DOMAIN FOR THE INCAN EMPEROR IN THE MID-15TH C E N T U R Y. T H E V I L L A G E S I T S O N A P L AT E A U S O M E 8,000 FEET ABOVE THE EURUBAMBA RIVER. OFTEN R E F E R R E D T O A S " T H E L O S T C I T Y O F T H E I N C A S ," I T WA S DISCOVERED IN 1922 BY AMERICAN HISTORIAN HIRAM BINGHAM.

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THE TRAIN’S ENGINE IS SWITCHED I N L A O R OYA F O R T H E R O U T E TO H UA N C AYO D O W N T H E AT L A N T I C WAT E R S H E D S I D E O F T H E A N D E S .

casket engraved with: “Here is the skull of the Marquis Don Francisco Pizarro who discovered and won Peru and placed it under the crown of Castile.” Forensic anthropologists and historians confirmed the new remains were Pizarro’s. They are now in a small coffin inside the glass sarcophagus.

The next day, Crosby and I visited the Pacific port of Callao, the endpoint of the Peruvian Railway. Later, we boarded a train in Lima, which meandered along the Rimac River. We ascended numerous switchbacks for more than 100 miles and passed the river’s source in the highlands. Then we reached the summit of the Andes.

There were only a few passengers in our coach: an American couple who were touring Peru, and a group of female students on holiday. The young women noticed the cameras hung around my neck and wanted to know what we were up to. I explained our purpose and noticed the American woman sketching. When she finished, she gave me her amusing pen-and-ink portrayal of my interaction with the young girls. The inscription read: “Chiles at the Summit.”

We traveled through the Galera summit tunnel under Mount Meiggs at 15,692 feet and reached the station in La Oroya. The railroad switched the train’s engines there on a large turntable-like configuration. This was necessary for the trip down the mountain to Huancayo.

“Soroche,” the Peruvian word for altitude sickness, can occur at heights of 8,000 feet above sea level. I either forgot or was unaware of soroche, but I learned firsthand what thin air can do to someone at high altitudes. The symptoms hit me after I got off the coach to take pictures.

I ran to catch the train, and when I climbed on board, my body trembled.

Crosby summoned the conductor, who carried an airbag made of animal skin. He placed the nozzle into my mouth and slowly invigorated me by slowly squeezing the bag with his arm.

We finally reached Huancayo in the late afternoon. The city, which sits on the Atlantic side of the Andes, is a cultural and commercial center in the fertile basin of the Mantaro Valley. Indians and mestizos (people of mixed European and Indian decent) from surrounding villages flock to the city’s colorful Sunday market. We found a charming guesthouse for our overnight stay.

Back in Lima, we hired a driver to follow the train as it climbed the mountain. This enabled me to photograph the train as it crossed over high bridges heading for the summit. Soon afterwards, Crosby and I finalized our work on the railroad story. As a bonus, he decided we should make a side trip to Machu Picchu. I was delighted.

We departed for Machu Picchu by way of Cusco, which was once the

ancient capital of the Incan Empire. The old section of the city dated back to the 13th century and reflected a blend of early Incan stonework and Spanish colonial architecture.

The only way to travel to Machu Picchu from Cusco is by train. It runs along the Urumbama River valley for more than 50 miles. Archaeologists believe Machu Picchu was built for an Incan emperor in the mid-15th century, but the Inca citadel was abandoned after the Spanish conquest.

It is known as the “Lost City of the Incas.” The Spanish knew about its existence but never found the site. It remained “lost” until the Hawaiian historian Hiram Bingham discovered it in 1911.

When Crosby and I arrived, we practically had Machu Picchu to ourselves. The citadel is divided into urban and agricultural sectors.

Roughly 700 terraces are carved into the mountain and fortified by granite walls. These terraces help keep Machu Picchu stable, but the exact purpose of the citadel remains a mystery.

Close by the settlement, we came across a crude structure with several iron bunk beds. We spent the night there. I rose early, before sunrise, so I could capture a wide-perspective shot of the village. The sun began to rise, and its beams illuminated the ruins for the benefit of my instruments.

From my perch, I discovered that Machu Picchu sits like a saddle between two mountains above the Urubama River, which flows around the site on three sides. Huayna Picchu, the towering cone-shaped pinnacle, soars more than 1,000 feet above the village and provided a striking backdrop.

The Incas built a steep trail up the side of the mountain and erected temples on the pinnacle. I strolled through the remnants of the former community and admired the walls; massive dry-stone blocks were fused together without mortar. Several sections of the city offered excellent subjects for my cameras. These included the Temple of the Sun and the Room of the Three Windows, which are dedicated to the Incan sun god.

I searched but couldn’t find Crosby. He was lost in the “Lost City.”

Repeatedly, I hollered his name. Eventually I heard his faint call that led me to him. Crosby was climbing up the steep Huayna Picchu trail. I smiled and followed the man to new heights.

Chiles Larson is a frequent contributor to The Virginia Sportsman. He is the author of “Virginia’s Past Today,” a series of photo essays all linked to the theme of continuance, and “Barboursville Vineyards: Crafting Great Wine Inspired by Spirits from the Past.”

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TARPON IN VIRGINIA? STORY BY JOE SHIELDS

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W

e departed Virginia Beach at 5:45 a.m. and headed for the Eastern Shore.

The sun rose from the sea as we travelled over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel.

A red streak emerged; its girth on the horizon was constrained by water and a patchwork of low-lying clouds. I estimated we were 150 feet above the bay, suspended in a “thin place” where the boundary between heaven and earth is remarkably thin. I’d read you can catch a fleeting glimpse of the divine in thin places, and divine inspiration was in order if we were to see—or catch—a tarpon in Virginia.

“This bridge is something else, and so’s that sunrise,” said Chris Young, a Roanoke College buddy who arranged the fly-fishing trip. “The guide swore he’d put us on tarpon if we came this week. He seemed confident—he texted me the other day and said there’s lots of tarpon, and he’s been getting a good number of hook ups for clients on bait. Flyfishing clients are rare here.”

Young fished with Captain Zach Pfingst on the Eastern Shore a few months ago. Pfingst is a golf pro at Bay Creek Resort & Club in Cape Charles and also runs Marsh Madness Charters. He met my friend

at an undisclosed location on the peninsula in his 18-foot Salt Marsh Heron skiff. The two sight-fished for a full day and Young caught redfish and striped bass on fly.

“If you want to have a shot at tarpon, you should come here towards the end of July,” Pfingst told my friend.

“Wait…what?”

Pfingst was ready to go when we arrived at the harbor. He slowly motored away from the boat ramp and hit the gas as we approached the channel.

Our guide spoke as he navigated tricky waters, threading the needle between tiny islands and avoiding shoals, oyster beds and crab pots until we reached a bay.

“I think we’re going to hit the tide at a perfect time,” he said. “You’ll cast right into potholes in the flat.

The outgoing tide is in two hours, so we should have a window and plenty of shots at some big tarpon.”

“When did you first discover tarpon here?” I asked.

“I guess about seven years ago,” Pfingst replied.

“Netters told me they were out here, and as you’ll see pretty soon, they are.”

T H E S I LV E R K I N G . P H O T O B Y C A P TA I N L E O H E N R I Q U E S , F U L L-T I M E TA R P O N G U I D E AND OUTDOOR PHOTOGRAPHER BASED IN BOCA GRANDE, FL

I explained my familiarity with tarpon movements and the work of the Bonefish and Tarpon Trust (BTT). This publication featured the non-profit’s tarpon acoustic tagging project in the Winter 2019 issue.

Acoustic telemetry involves tagging fish with acoustic transmitters. Each tag emits ultrasonic pings through the water that are tracked by receivers strategically placed in the ocean.

BTT and collaborators have deployed 100 receivers spanning the Everglades to points west of Key West. The project also uses an extensive network of more than 4,000 receivers ranging from the Chesapeake Bay to locations across the Gulf of Mexico.

“Data collected so far reveals that tarpon have traveled as far north as the Chesapeake Bay and Virginia Beach,” explained BTT Research Fellow Andy Danylchuk, Ph.D., Professor of Fish Conservation at the Department of Environmental

Specializing in shallow-water sight fishing on the Lower Eastern Shore of Virginia.

Virginia’s pristine estuaries are some of the most productive ecosystems in the world, and support an incredible number of species in the world of sport fishing. We offer you the opportunity to target inshore species like redfish (red drum), sea trout, flounder, stripers, bluefish and tarpon depending on season. Captain Zach Pfingst primarily targets fish on the barrier islands, marshes, creeks and flats on the seaside of the Eastern Shore. marsh.madness.charters

(757) 377-8261 marshmadnesscharters.com FALL 2020 | T H E V I R G I N I A S P O R T S M A N

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Conservation at University of Massachusetts (UMass) Amherst. “We believe tarpon are following high-lipid food sources, such as mullet and bait fish, into darker salt and fresh waters rich in nutrients.

Anecdotal evidence suggests they have migrated as far north as New Jersey and Martha’s Vineyard.”

I joined Young knowing about this scientific evidence, but Pfingst was the first person I met who had seen and caught them here on conventional and fly tackle.

“They’re migratory and live on and around this flat for about six weeks during the summer, I’d say from mid-June to the first cold snap in August,” the guide said. “I rarely encounter any that must weigh less than one hundred pounds.”

He killed the engine and began polling the skiff across the flat. There was only one other boat in the bay, but he didn’t recognize it. That was a good sign; there’s hardly any pressure on these fish, and he wanted to keep it that way.

The three of us appreciated the calm and kept our eyes peeled on the water and on the reflection it held for an everchanging sky. By 7:30 a.m., I realized it may have been one of the most beautiful mornings I’d shared with anyone in my life. Fifteen minutes later, Pfingst noticed a tarpon. Suddenly, there were more.

Pfingst worked the push pole from the platform and Young and I took turns casting. Tarpon traveled slowly across the flat, moving in all directions. Some came rolling towards us with open mouths. There were lone fish and daisy-chaining pods. A few emerged close to the skiff, while others appeared in the distance, docile at play or feeding and well beyond reach of our casting abilities.

The guide moved us along. Fish broke the surface everywhere we looked. One school appeared at 12 o’clock and headed straight towards us. Their greenbacks caught the reflection of the sun and

adrenaline raced through my body. I took my turn and fumbled a cast. I quickly retrieved the fly, removed eel grass from the hook and recast. My fly landed in front of the school, but it spooked them, and they changed course. Cast. Dispatch grass. Repeat.

I switched places with the guide so I could take pictures from the platform with my Leica. Young double-hauled and placed his fly right where he wanted it. He turned a fish and got a hit, but the excitement faded as quickly as it began. He recast.

The wind picked up and I was able to get more line out. Changing conditions affected the visibility, and the forked, gray dorsal fins that pierced the water earlier in the morning instantly disappeared.

I had no choice but to blind-cast, and that’s when I hooked the tarpon.

T H E S U N R I S E S O V E R V I R G I N I A’ S E A S T E R N S H O R E A N D R E V E A L S T H E I N T R I C AT E W AT E R W AY S O F T H E F I S H E R Y. P H O T O B Y COREY MESSER

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THE SUNRISE SET THE TONE FOR A G O O D DAY O N T H E WAT E R A S S E E N F R O M T H E C H E S A P E A K E B AY B R I D G E TUNNEL. PHOTO BY JOE SHIELDS

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E A S T E R N S H O R E F LY - F I S H I N G G U I D E Z A C H P F I N G S T N AV I G AT E S T R I C K Y WAT E R S O N T H E W AY T O T H E B AY. P H O T O B Y C O R E Y M E S S E R

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None of us saw the eat but we experienced the violence together. There was an explosion in the bay, and the fish immediately burned away from the skiff and headed for deep water. Then it jumped; I saw the tarpon’s gills shake and was convinced it would spit the hook from its cement mouth. The fish jumped again, and the aerial feat made me want to take a knee on the casting deck.

My companions shouted—I was in shock and tried to keep tension on the line and my rod bent. At times the tarpon allowed me to bring in some line; there were other moments when the reel sizzled.

Pfingst was convinced the drag was set perfectly.

The tarpon jumped a third time and landed sideways with a tremendous splash. Pfingst instructed me to reel and he put his gloves on. I brought the fish near the boat and reeled the tippet in so that it reached the guide at the tip of the rod.

“That’s an official catch,” Pfingst hollered.

Once again, I attempted to boat the fish, but was thrilled to see it take off on another blistering hundred-yard run. This time it led us into deeper water, and Pfingst became concerned when it pulled us near a crab pot that represented trouble. I tried to direct it away from the obstacle and was able to bring it back towards us. The tarpon tired and I thought I would get him alongside the boat, but he took off on another run and jumped two more times.

Our battle lasted for nearly 35 minutes. Later, Pfingst would show me on the computer how the tarpon dragged us two miles from the starting point.

I became aware of that data point only after the line abruptly slackened and I reeled in my fly without my fish.

There was a collective sigh, but it wasn’t one of disappointment. We were humbled by an ancient species—a gamefish that migrated to a bay in Virginia with its brethren for a short period of time. I wish they could stay longer.

Book a guided trip with Pfingst by visiting www. marshmadnesscharters.com.

Joe Shields is the editor in chief of The Virginia Sportsman. He is a writer and marketing executive based in Charlottesville, Virginia.

His writing and photography have appeared in The Virginia Sportsman and other publications.

Whether fly fishing or surfing, he loves the outdoors and celebrates sporting life and culture in his narratives.

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The Fall 2020 Issue | RAISE A GLASS

RESERVOIR’S HUNTER & SCOTT BOURBON IS MADE FROM GRAINS SOURCED WITHIN 40 MILES OF THE D I S T I L L E R Y ’ S S M A L L O P E R AT I O N I N R I C H M O N D.

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CRAFT SPIRITS OF THE COMMONWEALTH We sampled some of the best from Virginia’s thriving distillery scene.

BY JEDD FERRIS

F

or many, staying close to home in recent months has meant sitting on the porch with a glass of bourbon or a creative cocktail. With fall looking like it will be much of the same, it’s a perfect time to stock your personal bar with spirits made in Virginia.

It also happens to be a milestone year for distilling in the Commonwealth, as 2020 marks the 400th anniversary of Virginia as the Birthplace of American Spirits.

Back in 1620, Virginia colonist George Thorpe made what’s known to be the first batch of corn whiskey at Berkeley Plantation. In the centuries since, the tradition has been carried forward on both open farms and in tight city blocks. Currently, there are 73 licensed distilleries in Virginia, with a burgeoning craft scene producing everything from small-batch bourbon to organic moonshine. Here’s just a small taste of the excellent spirits being crafted in the Commonwealth.

Catoctin Creek Roundstone Rye Made in Purcellville

The husband-and-wife team of Scott and Becky Harris founded Catoctin Creek back in 2009, and since opening Loudon County’s first legal distillery since Prohibition the couple has won a big stash of awards for their high-quality spirits made with organic ingredients. Most popular is the flagship Roundstone Rye, a pre-Prohibition-style rye whisky that’s aged in Minnesota white oak casks, creating a smooth profile with a sweet and spicy balance that feature notes of caramel and rich butter toffee. Gin fans should also make it a point to try Cactoctin’s Watershed Gin, which is made with a secret recipe of herbs and spices, offering an earthy crispness that’s a great base in cocktails both classic and creative.

COCKTAIL HOUR: Catoctin’s owners have compiled a generous collection of cocktail recipes on the distillery’s website. Try the Maple Whisky Sour, which includes two ounces of Roundstone Rye, an ounce of fresh lemon, and half ounces of orange juice and maple syrup. A half ounce of aquafaba is optional. catoctincreekdistilling.com

MurLarkey Distilled Spirits Lemon Whiskey Made in Bristow

The husband-and-wife team of Scott and Becky Harris founded Catoctin Creek in 2009, Loudon County’s first legal distillery since Prohibition.

Subsequently the couple has won a big stash of awards for their high-quality spirits made with organic ingredients to create a variety of flavors. Options include Cinnamon and Cocoa Whiskeys, but we were partial to the Lemon, which features MurLarkey’s award-winning Justice White Whiskey aged in in oak barrels over lemon peels. It adds a nice citrus accent to the bright bite of a spirit made from Virginia-grown corn and barley.

COCKTAIL HOUR: A favorite MurLarkey Recipe is an Irish Lemonade, a simple and refreshing cocktail that features a shot of the Lemon Whiskey with 3.5 ounces of your favorite lemonade and two mint leaves, shaken with ice. murlarkey.com FALL 2020 | T H E V I R G I N I A S P O R T S M A N

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FOUNDED BY A FORMER UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA MICROBIOLOGY PROFESSOR, V I TA E S P I R I T S P R O D U C E S P R E M I U M S M A L L- B AT C H R U M A N D G I N I N CHARLOTTESVILLE.

Vitae Spirits Platinum Rum Made in Charlottesville

A former microbiology professor at the University of Virginia, Ian Glomski left the world of academia to apply his science background to a new pursuit—distilling. Five years ago he founded Vitae Sprits, which makes premium small-batch rum and gin from an industrially hip building in downtown Charlottesville. The Platinum Rum is a clean and clear spirit made from Blue Ridge Mountain water, American sugar cane molasses and yeast that has plenty of sweet notes of caramel and vanilla.

COCKTAIL HOUR: Vitae has a huge list of cocktail recipes on their website. With the Platinum Rum, make the Perfect Pear, a great fall cocktail that features one and a half ounces of the spirit, one-and-a-half ounces of mulled pear nectar, three ounces of sparkling apple cider and a slice of lemon. vitaespirits.com

Reservoir Hunter & Scott Bourbon Made in Richmond

While most distilleries offer a variety of spirits, the owners of Reservoir stay focused on whiskey—all made from grains sourced within 40 miles of their small operation in Richmond. Reservoir—located in RVA’s brewery-heavy Scott’s Addition neighborhood— started in 2008 with three main whiskeys, all made solely with different mash bills: wheat, corn and rye. A few years ago, though, the distillery released Hunter & Scott, a smooth, balanced bourbon that combines all three. With a notes of butterscotch and cinnamon, it’s a richly flavored bourbon that’s great on the rocks.

COCKTAIL HOUR: We went classic with the Hunter & Scott Bourbon and made an excellent Old Fashioned: the whiskey, bitters, muddled sugar and garnished with an orange peel. reservoirdistillery.com

C ATO C T I N C R E E K . P H OTO BY K R I S T I N D I L L

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Ironclad Distillery Small Batch Bourbon Made in Newpor t News

Heading east to the Tidewater, Ironclad is another outfit that devotes stills to crafting premium brown water. As the owners of the family-owned operation put it, their mission is “to create the best bourbon—from grain to glass,” and they certainly make a case for greatness with their Small Batch Bourbon. The 90-proof spirit is made with Virginia corn, wheat and rye; while aging in charred oak barrels, it’s imbued with the character of the brackish waterfront air, resulting in sweet notes of caramel with a spicy finish.

COCKTAIL HOUR: Try Ironclad’s recipe for a Horse’s Neck, which includes bourbon, three dashes of bitters, a high-quality ginger beer and fresh lime. ironcladdistillery.com

Belle Isle Craft Spirits Honey Habenero Made in Richmond

During Prohibition, Franklin County, Va., was known as the “Moonshine Capital of the World” for the large amounts of bootlegged corn liquor being produced in the area. To the north in Richmond, the distillers at Belle Isle Craft Spirits fortunately don’t have to worry about evading the law as they craft modern-day moonshine made with 100-percent organic corn. Belle Isle’s flagship Black Label is a surprisingly smooth sprit on its own, but the distillery also infuses its ‘shine with some natural ingredients to create variations like Belle Isle Honey Habanero and Cold Brew Coffee—the latter a collaboration with Blanchard’s Coffee Roasting Company.

COCKTAIL HOUR: No need to practice your mixology skills with this one. Belle Isle makes canned cocktails, including the sparkling Honey Hab & Pineapple, a refreshing combination of organic moonshine, real fruit and just the right amount of fizz. belleislecraftspirits.com

Visit reservoirdistillery.com and enter code VASportsman2020 at checkout to receive $5 off shipping through 2020. @reservoirdistillery

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A Smith Bowman Distillery John J. Bowman Virginia Straight Bourbon Whiskey Made in Fredericksburg

This single-barrel whiskey was named the World’s Best Bourbon in 2017—one of many accolades for this lauded bourbon made by the Fredericksburg-based distillery and named after the great, great uncle of A. Smith Bowman’s namesake founder. With rich notes of toffee, fig and almonds, it’s a perfect whiskey for sipping by a backyard fired on crisp fall evenings.

COCKTAIL HOUR: We like this one neat, but if you really feel like a cocktail, try the distillery’s autumn-ready recipe for Maple Cinnamon Bourbon, which features fresh lemon juice, maple syrup and a pinch of cinnamon. asmithbowman.com

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Peak Design, Travel Tripod A good and reliable tripod is critical for any photographer looking to capture the right shot. Traditional tripods are heavy, unwieldy and difficult to transport. Enter Peak Design’s Travel Tripod, available in carbon fiber and aluminum. The Travel Tripod features many of the clever design traits that Peak Design is known for and is a great tool for any photographer looking for a lightweight, sturdy tripod that is easy to carry. Weighing in at just 2.8 lbs. (the aluminum version comes in slightly higher at 3.4 lbs.), this tripod extends up to five feet and will support up to 20 lbs. of weight.

In addition, the legs are flatter, not circular like most tripods, and the Travel Tripod folds down to half the size of other tripods; when folded, it is as thick as a water bottle.

The Travel Tripod feels substantial and is well-made. Its stiff carbon-fiber legs offer the stability that photographers want. $599.95 carbon fiber, $349.95 aluminum; peakdesign.com

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Hasselblad X1D II 50C Medium-Format Camera

The name Hasselblad holds a special place in the hearts and minds of photographers.

Since 1941, Hasselblad has been designing and manufacturing some of the world’s most iconic cameras, first for film photographers and now for the digital age.

When NASA searched for a camera to document early space flights and trips to the moon, the agency turned to Hasselblad.

Faced with challenging weightlessness and extreme temperatures on the moon’s surface, NASA was drawn to the reliability, image quality and ruggedness of Hasselblad’s respected creations.

From the Mercury program to the final moon landing on Apollo 17, Hasselblad cameras have captured some of the most revered images from outer space. Twelve cameras remain on the moon today because weight restrictions prohibited them from returning to earth; only the film was permitted to make the journey home.

Hasselblad recently released a new medium-format camera, the X1D II 50C, which is the second generation of the X1D 50C. The new camera offers dramatically improved speed and functionality at a price point that is significantly less than its predecessor’s approximate $9,000 price tag (camera body only).

The X1D II is equipped with a 50-megapixel sensor and 14 stops of dynamic range.

The images it takes are stunning in terms of detail and color—all while maintaining a compact form and an elegant milledaluminum industrial design.

Simply put: the X1D II is beautiful and a joy to shoot. Award-winning Slovakian photographer and Hasselblad Master Maria Svarbova uses the new camera. Her latest series, Girl Power and Lost in the Valley were both shot with the X1D 50C. “I’ve always admired Hasselblad cameras,” said Svarbova. “I’m amazed by the amount of detail these cameras capture and the image quality they produce. They’re outstanding. I love the X1D II’s sleek design.

The camera is lightweight and its portability gives me the flexibility I need when I am on a shoot.”

Medium-format cameras are not for everyone. The X1D 50C is a great fit for people who love the art of photography— and who revel in the time and effort that are required to create truly spectacular images.

Hasselblad’s new camera is worth a look. $5,750 (camera body only) – www.hasselblad.com

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Mishmi Takin Kameng Hiking Boots Mishmi Takin is a new outdoor company that designs and manufactures highperformance boots and jackets. This is not just another outdoor brand; Mishmi Takin is the brainchild of founder Kapil Dev Singh, who named his company after a rare goat-antelope found in the remote Eastern Himalayas. Dissatisfied with the performance of hiking boots in the harsh, wet and humid climates of his native Himalayas, Singh took it upon himself to start a company that makes products that are able to withstand the elements.

Mishmi Takin offers a line of highly breathable, waterproof gear that can handle moderate and dry environments, as well as endure the rigors of the rainy tropics. The Kameng hiking boot is well designed and comfortable. Mishmi Takin’s eVent membrane technology makes this a breathable waterproof boot, and the Vibram Megagrip sole provides excellent traction on wet surfaces. These boots are as functional as they are good looking.

They’re well worth a look for outdoors enthusiasts who want to upgrade their hiking boots this fall. $199.93; mishmitakin.com

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S PORT S M AN

gear picks 2020

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The Fall 2020 Issue | WELL READ

“AN ILLUSTRATED HISTORY OF EQUESTRIAN SPORTS: DRESSAGE, JUMPING, EVENTING” STAFF PICK

T

he first of its kind, “An Illustrated History of Equestrian Sports: Dressage, Jumping, Eventing” (Flammarion, October 2019, hardcover) documents the history of competitive horse-riding through fascinating stories and record-breaking events. Organized by decade, with both the individual and team achievements listed across the sport’s three official disciplines—showjumping, dressage and eventing—read from when the sport first appeared in the 1912 Olympic Games to present-day competitions.

“I am delighted to introduce this beautiful retrospective on equestrian

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sports, a journey through time and around the world, celebrating the very best human and equine athletes as well as the twists and turns that have built our sport into the vibrant industry it is today,” writes FEI President Ingmar De Vos in the book’s foreword. “And we should never forget where we came from. This is why retracing the sport is so important and why the FEI was delighted to partner with Flammarion on this wonderful publication: sport is about life and culture—it represents who we are, and it can sometimes push us as a society to new heights.”

The book is beautifully illustrated—250 color and black-and-white

F R O M L E F T TO R I G H T: T H E I N D I V I D UA L D R E S SAG E P O D I U M : ( L E F T T O R I G H T ) H . B O LT, H . C H A M M A R T I N , S . F I L A T O V. © F E I A R C H I V E S , A N I L LU S T R AT E D H I S TO R Y O F E Q U E S T R I A N S P O R T S ( F L A M M A R I O N , 2019) BY MARIE DE PELLEGARS; BENOIT CAPDEBARTHES, IN C O L L A B O R AT I O N W I T H T H E I N T E R N AT I O N A L F E D E R AT I O N F O R EQUESTRIAN SPORTS (FEI), THE DRESSAGE PODIUM: (LEFT TO R I G H T ) L . G R AV E S , I . W E RT H , C . D UJA R D I N .

photographs help tell a wonderful story and document a rich history. It features portraits of both male and female riders, as well as profiles on groundbreaking riders such as Bill Steinkraus, Charlotte Dujardin and Kevin Stautare. Replete with previously unpublished information about the sport, archival photography, and memorable anecdotes, “An Illustrated History of Equestrian Sports: Dressage, Jumping, Eventing” is an essential addition to the collection of any equestrian lover.

“As a magical hybrid, half horse and half human, the centaur of classical mythology is an excellent symbol of the powerful and inextricable

bond that unites these two species,” write accomplished equestrians and authors Marie de Pellegars-Malhortie and Benoit Capdebarthes. PellegarsMalhortie is a rider and journalist in the fields of international news and equestrian sports. Capdebarthes is a riding instructor, dressage rider and former eventing competitor.

For more information or to buy the book ($45.00), visit www.rizzolibookstore.com.

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The Fall 2020 Issue | THE SOUND

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A LITTLE BIT COUNTRY, A LOT OF ROCK ‘N’ ROLL Margo Price Gets Loud on New Album

BY JEDD FERRIS

PHOTO BY BOBBI RICH

J

ust four years ago Margo Price was a relatively unknown, hardworking Nashville singer-songwriter still looking for a break. But that changed with the release of her debut album, “Midwest Farmer’s Daughter,” which came out in 2016 on Jack White’s Third Man Records label. In a crowded field of roots revivalists, Price stood out for her refreshingly authentic take on a true country sound that often feels left behind.

With a voice both sweet and strong, in the vein of iconic predecessors like Dolly Parton and Loretta Lynn, and a sturdy band adept at blending honky-tonk, dusty rock and soul, Price earned critical praise and built a fast following of fans taken with her startlingly honest, autobiographical songcraft. “Hands of Time,” from her first album, detailed the economic hardship she endured growing up in small-town Illinois and the tragic loss of her son; and “Learning to Lose,” a duet with Willie Nelson from Price’s sophomore album, “All-American Made,” is a poignant ballad about accepting fallibility.

Following a whirlwind breakout period that found Price playing Saturday Night Live and singing with John Prine and Kris Kristofferson, she was nominated for a Best New Artist Grammy Award in 2018.

In July, Price released her latest album, “That’s How Rumors Get Started,” which, sonically, is an edgy detour from the Americana and country styles that were her early calling cards. The record was produced by her friend and fellow Music City agitator Sturgill Simpson, who encouraged Price to embrace a dynamic rock sound and some studio experimentation. To make the album she traveled to Los Angeles to cut tracks at EastWest Studios, where the Beach Boys made “Pet Sounds” and Parton recorded “9 to 5.”

While making the album, she was pregnant with her daughter, who was born last year, and Price said that helped give her a clear vision of the record’s direction. “They’re both a creation process,” Price said, of having a child and crafting a new album. “And I was being really good to my body and my mind during that time. I had a lot of clarity from sobriety.”

Lyrically, she gets into the nitty gritty of relationship dynamics, as she channels Tom Petty’s heartland rock on “Letting Me Down” and embraces a synth-heavy dance groove on the standout “Heartless Mind.”

The new album’s heaviest track, “Twinkle, Twinkle,” marches forward with stomping distortion, with Price once again singing about her humble upbringing and how tough it is to navigate the music industry’s rocky landscape. “If it don’t break you,” she sings, “It might just make you rich.”

For Price, perseverance without compromise has paid off.

ESSENTIAL SONGS “Hands of Time” The stunning lead track from Price’s breakout debut, “Midwest Farmer’s Daughter,” unravels as a memoir of personal tragedies, from her family’s economic hardship to the death of her newborn son.

“Hurtin’ (On the Bottle)” Another standout from Price’s first album, “Hurtin’ (On the Bottle)” revives a classic honky-tonk sound and the genre’s age-old trope of trying to cure a broken heart with hard drinking.

“Pay Gap” A choice cut from Price’s 2017 sophomore album, “All-American Made,” the song rambles peacefully with shades of easy-going Tejano country, but lyrically it’s a heartfelt protest of the pervasive problem of gender wage inequality.

“A Little Pain” Price delivers another track about overcoming hard times, but this one comes via vintage soul with a jangly groove and the starry-eyed sweetness of old-school R&B. “Paper Cowboy” This twangy take-down of a town phony—found on the 2017 “Weakness” EP—starts as a loping country tune before spiraling into a funky, psychedelic jam at the conclusion. It’s snapshot of the adventurous edge of Price’s live shows with her ace band, the Pricetags.

“Twinkle Twinkle” A best example of how Price moved beyond her country leanings with the new album “That’s How Rumors Get Started,” this hard-hitting fuzz-rock scorcher features a cautionary message about the costs of success.

“Proud Mary” Price offers a revelatory version of this Creedence classic on the May-released live album “Perfectly Imperfect at the Ryman,” which culls highlights from Price’s three-night stand at the legendary Nashville venue and features guests appearances by Emmylou Harris, Jack White and Sturgill Simpson. This release is only available via Bandcamp.

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The Fall 2020 Issue | OPEN SPACES

THE AUTOGRAPH ROOM B Y E M I LY P O W E R S Jim Gilley was his name.

He was not more than 20 years old at the time and was already making his mark on the world: quite literally in fact. He had just finished signing his name using smoke as his pen on the rock-ribbed cavern wall deep beneath the hills near Big Stone Gap, Virginia. Stepping back, he held the flickering light against the sooty black letters printed on the limestone. He looked at it admiringly, pleased with his careful penmanship.

Though the light was dim, he saw that the enclosed chamber was no longer secluded in the darkness, hidden in the depths of the earth far from human contact. His freshly smoked letters were simple in their own right, quite unassuming, and yet dwarfed among hundreds of names snaking, twisting and encircling him in a silent archive of adventurers who had come before him. There were signatures everywhere that spilled over the hollow arches, crevices and rocky outcroppings. Was there an untouched space free of inscription? Who knew?

Flickering flames danced across the rock, casting eerie shadows and glimpses of names that had long 64

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remained unseen in a void of darkness. This place seemed ancient and yet ageless at the same time. If one could lean closer to the wall you would probably hear the walls sigh, “So... you’ve come too, have you? Leave your mark. So many others have. I don’t mind one more.”

“And so, I did just that,” he said matter of factly with a slight nod. We were seated on his comfortable sofa in his apartment in Lynchburg, Virginia. Glancing up, I could see him nodding silently with eyes that looked beyond us—at something only he could see. An instant shadow of melancholy pervaded the room, but he seemed deeply satisfied. Was he revisiting a vision of his youth? Perhaps so. A faint boyish grin was beginning to crinkle the corners of his mouth, and the gleam in his eyes sparkled, reflecting an inner vigor cherished and now lost. It was a stark contrast taking in the slight figure of a man of 91 years. Old age had eclipsed his roaming youth and replaced it with mature wisdom.

“You should go up sometime and see if it’s still there,” he said, chuckling to himself.

About a year later we accepted his offer. The plan was to locate the cave, find Jim Gilley’s signature and

explore a bit while we were there. It appealed to my inner tomboy self who was always eager to delve into unknown territory.

“Surely it must be here somewhere,” I panted. Beads of sweat were now dripping into my eyes, stinging them as I scanned the mountain searching for signs of anything resembling a cave-like rock formation. It was only May, but already it was beginning to feel like summer. My dad and older brothers were steadily climbing uphill in a two steps forward, one step back kind of fashion. The dense underbrush and leaves created a thick carpet on which we slid, scurried and swayed as we ascended the rugged terrain. Our flailing hands grasped at random roots, rocks and tree limbs as we took hold and hoisted ourselves slowly and steadily up. Always up.

Finally, an elated voice broke the silence. “I found it!

This must be it!” shouted my brother. Sure enough after summoning just enough reserve strength to scramble closer to his voice, I could see that he was not mistaken.

An arched outcrop rose before us. The molded rock gaped like a mouth, receding into darkness, curving slightly and obscuring the interior from further view.

JIM GILLEY WAS HIS NAME. MORE THAN 7 0 Y E A R S L AT E R , T H E AU T H O R F O U N D I T I N S C R I B E D O N A R O C K- R I B B E D C AV E R N WA L L N E A R B I G S T O N E G A P, V I R G I N I A . P H O T O B Y E M I LY P O W E R S

I had imagined something grander in scale and a bit less foreboding. I at least wanted enough assurance to confirm that some other natural visitor was not lying undisturbed somewhere deep within. But this being an adventure and coming so far, it was out of the question to turn back now.

The low opening was just three feet high, and only one person at a time could walk, or rather stoop, inside the entrance. In single file, we hunched forward and crept along, rounding the curved passageway that ushered us into a portal, like a subterranean black hole. Our headlamps were now the sole source of illumination, replacing the rays of golden sunlight that slipped away from us as we ventured further and further in. The comforting sounds of wind and birds were soon quickly swallowed up and replaced with the methodical drip, drip, drip of water droplets plinking onto the rocks below. Every sound was amplified. Even our muffled footsteps now took on a heaviness that increased in loudness with each stride.

The sacred quiet stillness that had permeated the atmosphere only moments ago was now broken by our shuffling strides.

A

t first, we had a relatively uneventful descent with no unexpected surprises. I had just begun to develop a sense of confidence and ease as I navigated my way through the serpentine crevices of the

underground cavern. And more than likely it was at this point when my newly acquired confidence was in danger of slowly exceeding my healthy sense of caution.

We had begun to round a corner when I noticed a sliver of light casting a feeble glow on a tall and narrow rockface. The rock appeared normal enough, but it had a curious wave-like motion to it as if it was undulating in an unseen ocean.

“Why is the wall moving?” I whispered. My voice sounded unusually loud in the stillness.

“It’s not,” my brother replied, giving me a skeptical glance. “Your eyes do funny things in the dark, you know.”

I shrugged. Maybe he was right. Nerves mixed with imagination can give rise to some unearthly illusions, but all the same, I peered at the wall a second time... and this time, I could not be mistaken.

“The wall is moving. Don’t you see it?”

My dad focused his light on the wall, and pinpricks of light reflected back at us. They were eyes! Not the eyes of some wild predator lurking in the shadows, but tiny eyes that seemed to multiply the longer we looked at them. Spindly legs scampered across the smooth surface in a frantic attempt to escape the blinding light illuminating their dark abode. Spiders!

The wall was covered in them, a ghastly blanket of thousands of arachnids. It was this sight that replicated a wave swaying back and forth in a uniform, rhythmic motion. Streams of water trickled down the wall leaving dark stained lines of moisture that resembled an enormous web stretching upwards out of sight. They were cave spiders, quite harmless, but that minor detail completely escaped our minds as we subconsciously sidestepped backwards.

Restoring the native habitat

I

t was quite some time before we eased ourselves past the spiders. Our backs scraped against the adjacent wall, and we cast wary glances as the wall continued to oscillate. Abruptly, we came to a halt at what appeared to be the end of our path which was obstructed by a large boulder suspended between the walls. But careful inspection revealed a narrow gap underneath that allowed us to squeeze through.

Emerging onto the other side, the faint ghostly silhouette of a ladder leaned casually against the wall. It had been abandoned here during the days of mining saltpeter for gunpowder in the 1860s. Despite its age, it proved to be sturdy enough and well-preserved. This ladder was unique in design in that it was a single post with roughly cut notches as footholds and no side rails. Clutching the post and hoisting ourselves upward, we came across a log that jutted across a shallow pit like a diving board hovering over an empty pool. This is where our luck seemed to be tested. We edged over the gap and were nearly safely across when a loud clatter shattered the

MAYBE IT WAS A MIXTURE OF CURIOSITY, DISBELIEF, OR PANIC THAT PROMPTED US TO TAKE THIS RISK. MOST LIKELY IT WAS ALL THREE OF THESE, BUT THIS WAS THE PATH THAT WE TOOK.

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silence. Peering cautiously below, we surveyed our loss.

A flashlight lay at the bottom, still casting its beacon against the rock. It had slipped the bonds of a carelessly knotted rope ferrying it across the chasm. We wondered how and more importantly who would retrieve it.

“I think I can reach it if you just tie me in,” said my brother. “It doesn’t look far, a few yards maybe.”

“Are you sure? Your eyes do funny things in the dark, you know,” I said. He glanced doubtfully at me; with a rope properly secured around his waist, he slipped silently out of sight into the mouth of the pit. The rope creaked as it adjusted to its heavy burden. Anxious thoughts raced through our minds. What if the rope wouldn’t hold? We’d lose much more than a flashlight.

Sweat poured from our brows and ragged gasps escaped our lungs as we tugged at the rope, hoisting it up and up until my brother emerged gripping the flashlight.

“Your knot tying skills have remarkably improved,” he said with a faint grin.

“It has to when the burden on the other end is more valuable,” I replied.

It was quite some time until our spatial awareness altered, and we began to sense a shift, both in space and height. We entered into the presence of a large round hall with a gallery soaring upwards. It might as well have been a concert hall with the distant haunting echoes reverberating randomly in the emptiness—echoes that had the unearthly resemblance of dissonant chords played by an unseen symphony.

Gazing upwards, the light radiating from our headlamps dissolved with increasing height. Only a few feet from us, an underground stream disappeared noiselessly

through the center of the floor. This was quite overwhelming. Branches of side chambers weaved in and out from the main hall, and we spun in wonder with the seemingly endless outlets that led to unknown destinations.

Soon came the question we had all been pondering, but had been afraid to voice for fear that our suspicion would come true: “Which one of the many tunnels is our exit?”

A simple question no doubt, but was the answer obvious? No, not really. In fact, let’s be honest, any of these tunnels could be “the one.” How was it possible to say this path was right when all the paths looked exactly the same?

Finally, we went with our gut feeling, but quickly found that it only led us to a dead end. And quite literally a dead end for no sooner had we turned around to retrace our steps we were met with a grim image of a skull and crossbones inscribed in bold, black smoke.

The words “This way out” curled beneath the bones as if luring us in to meet a most unfortunate fate.

Maybe it was a mixture of curiosity, disbelief or panic that prompted us to take this risk. Most likely it was all three of these, but this was the path that we took. The passage was only about two feet tall; it forced us to drop to our knees and crawl on our bellies. We slithered through this narrow channel with the sootstained ceiling hovering over our heads. Evidently, other people had come here too with carbide lanterns. But where did they end up? Did they find the exit?

The tunnel’s walls gradually broadened enough for us to straighten upright, and soon a side chamber perpendicular to the main path emerged from the

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shadows. We entered cautiously as our lights canvassed the room. I felt a sense of awe and wonder; it was as if one had stepped inside an autograph room. Jim Gilley’s description of this place was brought to life as names, initials and dates from over two centuries created a vibrant textured tapestry. Printed and cursive—rough and neat, narrow and wide—the names blended and swam into each other until it was difficult to decipher where one began and another ended. Locating his name would be quite a challenge.

As if mentally flipping through a phone book, I scanned the last names beginning with G. I slowed my gaze down more carefully and came across names like “Galvin, Goodman, Giles and so forth, but where was Gilley?

“Gosh, I must be getting close,” I thought, perplexed. And then, there it was right in front of me in striking clarity. Neatly inscribed on the wall in tall, proud letters was the name “Jim Gilley.”

He had stood here more than 70 years ago and yet his name was unblemished by erosion or sunlight. We took a photograph, eager to share our discovery with Mr. Gilley and satisfy his sentimental desire to see his signature once more.

Viewing his autograph connected the youth of Mr. Gilley to my own in a tangible way. This elderly man introduced to me as the son of my great-great grandmother’s sister became a more kindred spirit after our adventure in the cave.

“You should go up sometime and see if my name’s still there,” he had said.

I smiled. “It’s still here, Mr. Gilley. And it will be here for quite a long time.”

BTT is a membership-based organization that works to conserve and restore bonefish, tarpon and permit fisheries and habitats through research, stewardship, education and advocacy. We are scientists, anglers, guides, manufacturers, lodge and shop owners, and outfitters who are taking action today to conserve and restore our flats fisheries for tomorrow.

Please help us in our mission by joining at: www.btt.org

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