
A year and a half ago I came face to face with the possibility of living very, very close to wild trout. While out on a run, getting a little lost, a glimpse of a fish in a stream captivated me. I knew the water was cool and clean. The species of the fish was unknown, but there was enough good evidence for me to pursue the lead.
While not an obsession or singular focus, I was taken by the strong desire to catch trout in town. Trout would be exciting, but discovery would be even more of a thrill. A remnant population of brook trout amongst the suburban sprawl? Even a little fish would prove a personal benchmark. More importantly, it would represent the perseverance of something wild.
That was in Northern Virginia. That specific lead went cold, at least in terms of trout.
After some time, I did locate some wild rainbows nearby. I even found a tiny population of native brookies, which I chose to leave alone. I felt like I came to some sort of closure regarding trout in Northern Virginia.
Now, I’m in living in Massachusetts again.









