{"id":1692,"date":"2023-10-15T22:13:13","date_gmt":"2023-10-15T22:13:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/americangunpeople.com\/?p=1692"},"modified":"2023-10-15T22:13:13","modified_gmt":"2023-10-15T22:13:13","slug":"hell-or-high-water-chasing-smallmouth-bass-on-the-new-river","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/americangunpeople.com\/?p=1692","title":{"rendered":"Hell or High Water: Chasing Smallmouth Bass on the New River"},"content":{"rendered":"


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THE NEW RIVER<\/span><\/strong> is many things\u2014\u00adgorgeous, deserted, dangerous\u2014but new isn\u2019t one of them. It was named unwittingly, so the story goes, after traders labeled each landmark \u201cnew lake,\u201d \u201cnew stream,\u201d and so on. The description stuck. Yet at 360\u00a0million years old, it\u2019s one of the oldest rivers on the planet. The New existed before tectonic forces shoved the Appalachians up around it and the current carved out what\u2019s now the New River Gorge\u2014the longest and deepest gorge in Appalachia. It\u2019s also one of the best fishing destinations east of the Mississippi.<\/p>\n

As we load boats at the put-in, I survey our crew. My buddy Zach Simon guides white\u00adwater here and in Colorado, and his Lab, Otter, has spent more time on the water than most humans. Nate \u201cArchy\u201d Archambault guides anglers on the New; his girlfriend, Kate Barker, didn\u2019t own a PFD until this morning. Photographer Nick Kelley is snapping pictures even though I know he wants to unpack his flyrod, and I\u2019m here for the bass\u2014and the rapids.\u00a0<\/p>\n

The New River Gorge drops 750 feet over 50 miles, creating its famed whitewater. Congress protected this stretch, and 70,000 adjacent acres, in 1978 with a National River designation. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

We could find more pristine whitewater out West, but there\u2019s no river with a better story. The New is a comeback kid. Those geological processes that exposed sandstone and shale along these banks also exposed seams of coal. The New River coal field boomed in the late 1800s, and the river ran black. The rush petered out after World War II, and most of the mines closed.<\/p>\n

The New River recovered, mostly, but there are still scars. In the sand where we stake our tents, you can still see flecks of black coke from the coal ovens. Meanwhile, the river suffers from continued illegal waste dumping by residents and failing sewage infrastructure. Archy catches 24-inch brown trout in feeder streams here, pulling them from under mats of plastic trash and dirty diapers. Arbuckle Creek, which flows past the rafting company<\/a> where he and Simon work and into the New, holds trout. It\u2019s also an EPA Superfund Site<\/a>, still dealing with fallout from the coal industry.<\/p>\n

\"hand
We land bass all week and release each one. Not because we\u2019re catch-and-release purists, but because Archy and Simon refuse to eat anything that lives in the New River. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

It feels like the river is trying to sweep away our mess and win back the gorge. It feels wild. Once, we spook a black bear on the shore that flees over the railroad tracks. I paddle past farmhouse-size boulders and twisted metal wreckage. There\u2019s no patch kit that could fix the gashes it would rend in our rafts.<\/p>\n

Our days on the river are lazy ones, punctuated with flurries of bites and rapids to navigate. But to catch fish\u2014and to survive the whitewater\u2014you need experience or a guide. \u201cIf you make mistakes, they\u2019re huge,\u201d Archy says of the hydraulics, the strainers, the undercut rocks. \u201cAnd it takes just one mistake.\u201d<\/p>\n

We don\u2019t see other boaters until the last day, as we approach the biggest rapids. I assume this final gauntlet will mark the end of our trip (Class IVs and Vs at peak flow). But as we drift toward the takeout that lies just past the soaring steel bridge, a smallie strikes my swimbait. As quickly as I release it and cast into another riffle, there\u2019s another bite. Soon I\u2019m catching fish on nearly every throw: small ones, each as feisty as the last. I scramble to release each so I can catch the next, all while playing keep-away with Otter, who\u2019s as fond of fish as his namesake. Simon rows to a rock just under the surface and climbs out. He leans into the current, holding the raft so I can keep fishing. At last we have to call it and give in to the pull of the river.<\/p>\n

\"rafter
Archambault got his nickname in the Marine Corps (\u201cArchy is easier to say when you\u2019re getting shot at\u201d) and spent his first years out of the service with Outward Bound, volunteering as a liaison between veterans and \u201csuper hippie raft guides.\u201d The Florida native spends half his year fishing saltwater, and the rest on the New. Whenever he gets a day off from guiding anglers in West Virginia, he gets right back on the river to throw flies himself. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"close-up
Flyfishing isn\u2019t one of my vices, so I opted for a medium-action spinning outfit instead. This Abu Garcia Revo STX reel did the trick. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"anglers
After we load gear and strap the raft frame to Simon\u2019s truck, his fellow guides drive us to the put-in in exchange for beer money. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"Black
Simon, 35, and Otter, 11, have spent most of their lives guiding: summers on the river, ducks and geese in the fall. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"hand
Archy caught this fish near camp, but the best smallie action is in the rapids, where bass like to tuck behind rocks, in eddies, and in the pillowy Vs of water just ahead of the rapids, feeding on whatever floats by. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"Rafter
It\u2019s easier to muscle through flat stretches of river while rowing backward, but it\u2019s critical to face rapids head-on. This allows boaters to read the current and make the technical maneuvers certain sections require. Here, Archy tucks in his oars to clear the rocks as\u00a0he threads a narrow chute. Careless rowers can easily\u00a0snap oars on hazards like this, rendering themselves handicapped mid-rapid and thus more likely to flip, get swept into danger, or both. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"Angler
After paddling my packraft all day, I tie off to Simon\u2019s boat for the evening bite. He\u2019s ferrying much of camp on his 12-footer, including the cooler full of food that serves as his seat, Yeti dry duffels stuffed with sleeping bags, a 5-gallon jug of drinking water, two spare oars, dog food, and the crew\u2019s daily ration of whiskey. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"rafter
Simon leads commercial trips with individual, waiver-signing paddlers, and has been known to kayak and riverboard (imagine swimming with a kickboard in Class Vs), but he loves his custom-fitted oar boat best. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"angler
Otter and Simon sneak in a few casts at midday. It is possible to fish from the public banks, but the terrain is so steep and the woods so thick that locals often can\u2019t reach the water on foot. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"overhead
The Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad, which runs beside the river, was completed in 1872. It\u2019s still active with freight and Amtrak cars, as I learned when workers started hosing down cars near our campsite at 5 a.m. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"steaks
We might not have had fresh fish, but we didn\u2019t go hungry.<\/p>\n

Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\"paddler
These little rapids wouldn\u2019t pose much danger if I fell in, but standing in the riverbed would. Never try to stand in shallow swift water. You risk foot entrapment, which can lead to getting pushed beneath the surface\u2014and held there\u2014by the current. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"close-up
We used 7-foot medium-action rods to throw PowerBait Power Swimmers with white jigheads. This worked well until Simon lost my rod in the last rapid. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"paddler
I\u2019ve run rapids without a guide, but it\u2019s much safer to boat with someone who knows the river\u2014or how to navigate an unfamiliar one. A good paddler can read a rapid like a good angler can read the current, but we didn\u2019t need to scout the New because my companions have it memorized. Before each stretch of whitewater, Simon briefed me on which path (\u201cline\u201d) to take through the rapid, which way to swim if I flipped, and which undercut rocks could trap me below the surface. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"Angler
There are plenty of slow-moving stretches on the New, giving solo rowers a chance to catch bass. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"Rafter
Here, Archy drops into Middle Keeney, a Class IV rapid named for a coal-union organizer. It\u2019s important to lean forward, rowing (or paddling) with powerful, even strokes to punch through big waves head-on. Hitting a rapid at an angle can flip your boat. If you do fall in, know which way to swim or look to your guide for a hand signal. Don\u2019t wait for rescue\u2014swim hard, and never try to grab onto tree branches sticking out of the river. The force of the current can trap you against submerged limbs like noodles in a colander. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"closeup
The fishing, of course, is best in the early morning and evening, but we also seem to get more bites whenever a train rumbles by. Archy swears the vibrations scare the fish out of their holes, and it doesn\u2019t take long to discover he may be right. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"Angler
Last summer, Simon traded a truck camper for cash and this welded stand, a literal lifesaver for steady fishing through whitewater. The metal platform gives me a lift too, making it easy to sight-cast to bass holding in eddies and above rapids. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"Huge
The massive boulders lining the New also hint at what sits below the surface. Here, Simon floats into a cave that becomes an undercut at higher water\u2014a death trap for capsized boaters who get sucked into the opening and pinned by the current. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"Campfire\"
Each year, the New swells its banks and sends mud, trash, and timber roiling downriver. This leaves tangled heaps of sun-dried driftwood along the beaches, providing more than enough fuel for the few campers who sleep there. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"Anglers
The final mile of riffles before the old Fayette Station Bridge and then the famous New River Gorge Bridge holds some of the best fishing of the trip. The smallies here are hand-size but hungry, and hit nearly every lure I throw to them. Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"close-up
During one conversation, someone mentions that Bill Nye the Science Guy doesn\u2019t have a science degree. \u201cYou don\u2019t need a degree if you know your shit,\u201d Archy says. \u201cI don\u2019t have a degree in fishing, but I caught the biggest fish today.\u201d Nick Kelley<\/i><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

This story originally ran in the Spring 2020 issue. Read more\u00a0OL+<\/a>\u00a0stories.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/p><\/div>\n