ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: THURSDAY, June 23, 1994                   TAG: 9406280009
SECTION: SPORTS                    PAGE: B-3   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: Bill Cochran
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium


FIGHT WITH SMITH MOUNTAIN MUSKIE A KNOCKOUT

When you write about muskie, you are free to grab the thesaurus and put punch into your prose with words like ``sinister,'' ``seething,'' ``cunning,'' ``menacing,'' ``disconcerting,'' ``unpredictable,'' ``defiant'' and ``baleful.''

But is this tiger of fresh water overrated as a fighter?

Maybe so, maybe not is the way Roger Dillard of Roanoke figures it after landing a 26-pound, 8-ounce muskie at Smith Mountain Lake. Dillard and J.C. Ayers were trolling for striped bass near the state park when the 48-inch fish hit Dillard's jig.

``It was like a dead pull,'' is the way Dillard described the fight.

The muskie didn't leap from the water in a shower of spray, with its red gills flared. It didn't expose its bulging, man-sized eyes, its crocodile snout, its forest of teeth, its sleet-white belly.

``It reminded me of getting hooked up on a dock,'' Dillard said.

That was pretty dull until Dillard noticed something that gave a tingle to his spine. The ``dock'' suddenly began to move. Then the boat began to move.

The muskie was towing Dillard and Ayers. It was the kind of happening that can give a fishermen that I'm-not-exactly-in-control feeling.

But Dillard held on and before long Ayers had the muskie in his gaping striper net.

So in conclusion, you can say what you like about a muskie, and it's probably true.

BRIERY BASS: Sandra Fore, who operates Worsham Grocery, just up the road from Briery Creek Lake, has lost count of the number of trophy largemouth bass that have been plunked down on her scales this season.

``My book shows 10 over 7 pounds,'' she said. ``I'm sure it is more than that.''

What is certain, Briery Creek, an 845-acre state-owned impoundment near Farmville, is having one of its best big-bass seasons since it opened five years ago. Worsham's store weighed a couple more lunkers the other day: 9 pounds, 5 ounces and 9 pounds, 11 ounces. Both were caught on plastic worms.

Those are wall-hangers, but some catches have weighed more than 10 pounds, including a 13-pound, 13-ounce giant that is the record for the lake.

NEW CAREER: When Hank Norton retired last season after 33 years as Ferrum's head football coach, some sportswriters were wondering in print why he had stayed at the college so long.

The answer now appears to be obvious. Norton, an avid fly fisherman, was waiting for the Chesapeake Bay to fill with striped bass. Reports say Norton is tearing up stripers on his fly rod while casting small Clouser Minnows. He lives in Deltaville, where the Rappahannock River flows into the Chesapeake Bay.

Only a few years ago, the striped bass population in the bay, as well as up and down the Atlantic Coast, had all but collapsed. Some observers were referring to this great fish as another passenger pigeon. Then came the turnaround in the '90s. This spring, the bay has been full of stripers.

The season will remain closed until late in the year, but you can catch and release stripers, and the most thrilling way to do that is Hank's way, with a fly rod and freedom.

BEAR FACTS: Bear hunting lost its toehold as one of the final bastions of a man's world during the weekend when the Virginia Bear Hunters Association elected its first woman president, Linda Dorey of Lexington.

``I don't know how it will go over,'' she said, wondering aloud what the rank and file will think when the news spreads.

Dorey knows she plans to take the office seriously, while laboring under the philosophy that the best thing bear hunters can do for their sport is to take good care of the bear population. That includes supporting a bear research project being conducted by the Department of Game and Inland Fisheries.

``We want to be able to hunt with our hounds, but we don't want to do anything that would hurt the bear in Virginia,'' she said. ``We aren't bad guys; we just like to get out with the dogs.''

Dorey has followed her share of flop-eared, deep-throated hounds. She was one of the founders of the Virginia Houndsmen and Sporting Dog Association. Her husband, Joe, is president of that organization.



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