Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, October 16, 1995 TAG: 9510160082
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: B6 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BILL COCHRAN OUTDOOR EDITOR
DATELINE: SALTVILLE LENGTH: Long
The stream is best known beyond the hills of Southwest Virginia as one big slug of mercury. For more than 20 years it has been against the law - not to mention good judgment - to eat fish from the river because of contamination from the Olin Chemical Corp., which shut down in 1972 when the company said it couldn't meet environmental regulations.
But Loupe, a native of Saltville, believes it is time to give the river the kind of positive press it deserves. The town, too.
``Mainly, all we have gotten at Saltville for the last several years is bad publicity,'' he said. ``The bad publicity has hurt the area, and we have a lot to offer.''
Under the ``lot to offer'' category, Loupe mentions Saltville's rich Civil War history, but he's only warming up to what he sees as the real reason to come to town. Bass! Bass that will leap out of the water when you hook them, as if to glare at you for intruding on their domain. Bass that spawn and grow to be trophies in one of far Southwest Virginia's most scenic streams.
The bass are back the entire length of the river, from more than 20 miles above Saltville all the way into Tennessee, said Loupe.
That statement gets support from John Jessee, a state fish biologist who manages the stream for the Department of Game and Inland Fisheries.
``I would have to say there is a quality smallmouth fishery there - good quality,'' Jessee said. ``It is one of the best smallmouth streams we have west of the New River.''
There are occasions when an accomplished angler can put together a 2-pound average of smallmouths, something Loupe did in September when he weighed five fish that totaled 12 pounds, 11 ounces. Two weeks later he landed a 4-pound, 9-ounce smallmouth that won his fishing club's lunker trophy.
All of these bass were taken on a Jitterbug, a lure more familiar to his grandfather's generation than to his own.
Shaped like a blimp with a snow blade attached to its nose, the Jitterbug wobbles across the surface emitting a distinct gurgling noise that can drive bass crazy.
``We never throw it in the daytime, but at night it is a wonderful lure on this river,'' said Loupe.
The 4-pound bass was positioned in the lower end of a long hole that constricted into a narrow channel.
``He had come up three or four different times in the past when I had been down there fishing,'' said Loupe. ``I made about two casts down there that night and he came up and got it. Boy, he put up a fight! You couldn't see anything. You could just hear him splashing, rolling and wallowing.
``When I got him up on the bank, I thought he was 5 or 6 pounds. That's how wide he was. He was huge. He was 22 inches.''
It is passionate tales like this that Loupe uses to overcome the North Fork's reputation as being a leper among streams. His pulpit is a Gheenee, a Florida-built craft that is half canoe-half johnboat.
On a recent afternoon, Loupe hauled the boat up the road from his home and pulled it over the bank into the river. Along the way, the names of local candidates - Grubb, Cupp, Kidd, Clay, Elswick, Campbell - cried out from election posters that added color to the fall setting.
A few strokes of the paddle and Loupe was enticing bass and sunfish with his Tiny Torpedo and soft, plastic crawfish rigged Texas style.
``There is a rich supply of crawfish in this river,'' he said. ``You look in a bass' mouth and you'll often see a crawfish antenna sticking out of the gullet.''
On downstream, Loupe entered what the locals call the ``mine holes,'' where the river opens into a series of huge pools giving it a lake-like characteristic. There are largemouth bass here, and a 2-pounder grabbed Loupe's lure and leaped skyward when it experienced the sting of the hook and the pressure of the line.
A flock of Canada geese watched the battle. Others came honking from a nearby corn field. It was as if Loupe suddenly had paddled into the Eastern Shore.
Loupe remembers when the chemical company in Saltville belched soda ash into the sky and sent mercury into the North Fork.
``The only thing that lived in the river were carp,'' he said. ``You couldn't catch bass. If you got in there and seined, you wouldn't get any hellgrammites, you wouldn't get any crawfish, you wouldn't get any minnows. There wasn't anything living in there. There were no plants or foliage living around it.
``The fishing has come back. The foliage has come back. The wildlife has come back. I saw three bald eagles about midsummer. There are ospreys that live here pretty well all the time.''
Although an advocate of catch-and-release, Loupe believes it is time to remove the catch ban, if only to return the river to its proper status as an important fishing stream.
When Gov. George Allen took office, a committee was assigned to see if the ban had outlived its usefulness. Jessee was on that committee.
``When we came out of that meeting the general consensus was that the restriction banning the taking of fish for consumption should be lifted and made as an advisory,'' he said.
Thus far, that hasn't been done, and questions about safety remain.
``The problem isn't completely solved, because I guess mercury will be in the soil for a long time,'' said Loupe.
The ban, he believes, has caused the game and fish department to move slowly in the development of launching ramps and access areas. He sees that as an advantage and a disadvantage. The advantage is it has protected the river from fishing and boating pressure. On the negative side, it has made access difficult for all but the local fishermen.
``Right now, unless you put in at a state bridge or private property, there isn't much other access,'' Loupe said.
That fact increases the value of a guide service, said Loupe, whose fee is $150 for a day on the river. He can be reached by calling 800-889-0139.
by CNB