Beavers, bass bite on Rappahannock

Port Royal, Va.

Even though the extremely shallow water at the local boat launch ramp adjacent to the Route 301 bridge over the Rappahannock River provided plenty of excitement — each of the two men who pushed away from the dock weighed nearly 300 pounds — it couldn’t compare to Dick Fox’s rising adrenaline when the huge fish he thought he had hooked turned out to be an irate furbearer that can fell an oak tree if he has a mind to do it.

“It’s big,” said Fox, who sat in the front of a water jet-powered bass boat of the kind usually seen in rock-strewn mountain waters. Fox stood on the power pedal of an electric trolling motor, keeping his boat steady against an ebbing tide, hanging onto a fishing rod that was precariously bent, with line streaming from the reel whenever the creature on the other side felt like stripping some of it from the baitcaster.

“It’s coming to the surface,” said Fox, watching the line rise through the river water.

That was quickly followed by a very large beaver who somehow had been hooked in the back when Fox cast to a sunken tree in hopes of finding a largemouth bass.

“Oh, no,” Fox said while the beaver, which easily weighed 30 pounds, porpoised through the shoreline water, looking most unhappy about the unfolding events. It finally was able to dislodge the lure when it dived.

Thank heaven for that. I mean, what do you do with an upset beaver?

However, the best part of our outing was still to come. The tidal Rappahannock River, one of the most historic waterways in the United States (President George Washington and Gen. Robert E. Lee grew up along its shores), has been taking a beating from some anglers who believe the river no longer is home to good numbers of largemouth bass.

That is vigorously disputed by Virginia Department of Game & Inland Fisheries biologist John Odenkirk, who not long ago conducted electro-shock studies and found a thriving, healthy bass population. Alas, most of them showed signs of great recent “recruitment,” which means very successful spawning periods had occurred. To bass boaters who are interested in fishing contests, young fish are the equivalent of no fish because they’re not heavy enough to win accolades from onlookers.

Fox and I don’t care about such things. After Odenkirk suggested that we stay upstream of Port Royal, we thoroughly enjoyed hooking one bass after another, usually on dark, scented 4-inch Power Worms or small crankbaits and rattle lures. Heading upstream in treacherous waters that alternately were as shallow as one foot and as deep as 24 feet, the two of us fished old stump fields and ancient, broken-off dock pilings and found willing largemouth bass over a lengthy part of the river, all of them upstream of Port Royal.

In more than one instance, Fox and I were pleasantly surprised when larger, well-fed bass took our lures. I’m talking about specimens in the 3-pound-and-over range.

All this while eagles soared above, masses of gizzard shad could be seen cavorting in the water, occasionally being harassed by large garfish.

A word of warning: do not attempt to race up and down the tidal Rappahannock if you do not precisely know where hundreds of its shallow flats are located. The “Rap,” as local bass hounds call it, is not only one of the most historic rivers in the land, it also is one of the worst marked waterways. Red and green marker buoys that can help show the channel are seen only rarely. You’re on your own 75 percent of the time. Please, heed this warning.

The lower tidal areas of the river, down toward Leedstown, apparently are not the bass-rich waters they used to be. But around Port Royal, particularly upstream of Hicks Landing, you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

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