Will and I were feeling the Force drawing us to the mountains. But with the novel corona virus scare and subsequent public orders for social distancing, the only way we could scratch that itch and still be responsible was to find a place where few other anglers would be found.
Reports were that people staying away from work environments were flocking to public parks, trails, and streams. So we picked one of the more inaccessible streams we had heard of - Ivy Creek in the Shenandoah National Park. Instead of hunting brown trout in the valley, we picked a stream that had no trail and would require a mile or more of bushwhacking just to get to fishable water. Because I knew this would be a tough, long hike/fish day, I drove up after work Friday to sleep in my car at the parking area for the Ivy Creek Overlook.
The darkness fell quickly after I entered the park at Rockfish Gap.
As I drove, I was alert to the herds of deer that littered the road and I did see hoards of them. But I also saw rabbits, turkey, frogs, a skunk, possum, and a black bear that wanted no part of my Outback's headlights. I pulled into the parking area and laid out my sleeping pad and bag, set my phone to airplane mode and settled in for the night.
It rained on and off most of the night and the wind was howling so hard, it rocked the car back and forth. It was a fitful sleep at best.
Will came up, separately, early Saturday morning. We met at 7:00 and then proceeded to the parking area at the trailhead for Pinefield Hut.
The breakfast, lunch, and dinner of champions...
Because all the vegetation was soaked and we would be bushwhacking our way to the stream, we donned our waders and boots for the hike down to the stream, but, for comfort, carried hiking boots for the hike up and out at the end of the day.
Keeping a safe distance apart, we picked our way down the drainage behind the Pinefield AT Hut. On the way, we passed this neon orange newt, a juvenile red eft, who seemed frozen as we lumbered past.
Our little drainage's flow alternated above and below ground but, like an arrow, pointed us down and onward until, after about 45 minutes, we arrived at an intersection with Ivy Creek proper. As we approached the stream, we spied this relatively level ground and stacks of stone about that we recognized as an old homesite that had been dismantled to remove families during the formation of the national park. Sure enough, we found barrel stays, an old axle, shards of pottery.
We stashed our hiking boots and other things we didn't need to carry for fishing and started our foray downstream. Will was fishing a traditional 3wt rod, and I had my Tenkara USA Rhodo (which was perfect for this tight stream).
The stream was beautiful, with numerous cascades, big waterfalls, and plunge pools sure to hold Brook Trout.
Will struck gold first. I fished a flashback pheasant tail nymph and followed shortly thereafter. The fish were generally small, not longer than your hand, but Brookies are so damned beautiful - especially this one!
It's broadside was darker making the colored spots really pop! Such a pretty fish! 
Down and down we went, pool after pool, finding hungry trout along the way. I tricked several in this pool - some hiding in the drowned leaf litter, a bigger one just below the falls.
We bushwhacked around thorned thickets, massive rock outcroppings, and downed trees. We're guessing we hiked another mile or more of ups and downs to follow the stream and stay far enough away not to spook the pools. Along the way, we found beautiful flowers and plants basking in this March's unseasonable warmth.
wild Spotted Geraniums (cranesbill)...
Roundlobe Hepatica (liverleaf)...
Devil's urn (or crater cup) fungi. So cool!
Fiddlehead ferns...
But I digress, back to the fishing. Here's Will picking the pockets and catching fish as the elevation dropped.
As the foggy, cool 50's morning stretched into afternoon, the sun came out and we stowed layers as we fished beautiful pool after pool.
As the pools got deeper, we switched to nymphs with tungsten beads, but I'm not convinced they actually increased the catch rate. I also fished a pheasant tail nymph with a hotspot and, although I caught fish with it, I'm not sure it did any better that the traditional tie.
There were plenty of bugs around and I saw some nice mayflies too, but nothing in the water and I only saw one legitimate rise. One overzealous Brookie did schwhack my strike indicator. Regardless, we were both catching well and were pleased with our fishing.
We started to discuss every step we took down we would have to bushwhack back up, but the pull to fish the next pool was strong. We told ourselves we would stop around 2:30. By 3:15 we were both frustrated having not caught a fish in the last couple of pools so we kept hunting and made it all the way to the park boundary. By 3:45 we had to go and we broke down our rods and started our ascent. We found the remains of an old trail which made the start of our hike easier and more predictable.
With the sun out and in full waders, it was unexpectantly hot! We labored uphill in waders and wading boots. Even though the old unmapped trail suddenly ended at the stream, we continued to pick our way up the grade for an hour and 45 minutes. Thank goodness for the occasional open path.
Being Will's hiking handicap, I made him stop from time to time so I could rest. During these interludes he kept staring at the water. Finally, he couldn't resist and worked his way down the steep slope to the steam, to a familiar, friendly pool, to shake off the late afternoon skunk. After a short rest, I started to move on slowly and eyed one of my honey holes. I slipped down and caught a willing fish and packed up the Tenkara for good.
We made it back to the stash pretty tired. I could barely remove my waders, but finally succeeded. We donned hiking boots and packed up everything else, ate a little, drank a little, said goodbye to Ivy Creek, and started up our drainage to the hut and our parking lot above.
It was steeper now, but we kept the pace slow and steady. All business, not looking at the scenery, we actually made it up and out as fast as we came down. Pretty miraculous actually. I took a few pictures of the hut for future reference and we happily took the horse trail the last 100 yards to the parking lot. Out of boots an into comfortable footware and a not-so-stinky shirt we headed nothr for the Swift Gap park entrance and then parted ways - Will to Richmond and me to Virginia Beach.
It was a great experiment in social distancing, from each other, from the rest of humanity, with a gem of a Brook Trout fishing day mixed in. Unforgettable!
Peace.
It's broadside was darker making the colored spots really pop! Such a pretty fish! 
