This being Virginia, history is deposited everywhere like sediment from the flooding of a mighty river. America’s first colonists washed ashore at Jamestown, and a stone’s throw away at Yorktown, the British surrendered to George Washington. Just more than an hour west of there is Richmond, the former Confederate capital. You can’t cross a county line in this state without seeing a gray sign telling you why you’re on hallowed ground.

Drew Garey points out a largemouth bass sitting in a hole near the bank of the James River, and Nick Boston springs into action. “Ooh, I see him,“ says Nick, 12, scrambling onto a rock to get a better look. “He’s being picky,“ Garey explains. “He followed my grub, but he didn’t take it.“ Nick flips his own white curly-tail grub at the bass but is ignored. After a few casts, he moves on. That’s fishing.

Fifteen days ago, a Japanese angler named Manabu Kurita set the bass fishing world abuzz with news of a possible record catch. The headlines were practically covered in drool from the excitement, and there was a massive run in cyberspace on exclamation points. “Angler may have landed record!!“ “Possible new world-record bass?!?!“

Fish and I fall for lure hook, line and sinker I’m a sucker for infomercials. It’s embarrassing, but true. It started years ago with the AB Dolly, a plastic board on wheels that promised to turn my flabby abs into cold, hard steel. It continued early one morn ing this past fall. I turned on the TV and there was the ubiquitous SI special offer, this one commemorating the 2008 World Series champion Philadelphia Phillies. As a native Philadelphian, how could I say no to the subscription? They were offering a DVD, a handsome hardback book (numbered individually, of course) and that’s not all, a ball signed by the entire team!

I take Whitman’s words down to the water. The Potomac is warm today, almost warmer than the air this July 4, another strange day in a string of them this young summer. But it’s a good day for leaning and loafing, and this is as fine a place as I’ve yet found for idle pursuits.

By my estimation, there are two things unique to Richmond—its history and the James River. I’m not alone in this thinking, I know, because each was identified as one of seven “foundations” for the downtown master plan. I live where I do—the Woodland Heights section of Richmond—because of the proximity to the river and the parks all around me. I love mountain biking the Buttermilk Trail in the James River Park System and walking by the lake in Forest Hill Park. My dogs love swimming in the river. I love canoeing it; fishing it and watching it slide by.

It’s evening rush hour on the University of Richmond campus. Even though it’s summer, there is plenty of activity, as employees, professors and students make their way elsewhere. Only I’m not going anywhere. I’m sitting behind two other cars on Lakeview Drive waiting for a gaggle of Canada geese to make a move. They’re obviously in no hurry. The six or seven of them just stand there. There’s no room to pass. A few students walking by have a good chuckle at our expense before the geese finally waddle down to the edge of Westhampton Lake.

There’s a lot in the news about the economy turning around. Here’s a headline about foreclosures leveling off. There’s one that says housing starts are up. Says here the stock market is rallying and consumer confidence is improving. I say blah, blah, blah: Let the bad times roll. Before brandishing the pitchfork, hear me out.

I’d like to say anyone can make the trip to Occoneechee State Park and truly experience its almost 2,700 acres as I did. It’s true, anyone can rent a pontoon boat at the park near Clarksville and explore miles of undisturbed coastline on Buggs Island Lake. And, yes, anyone can reserve a campsite, cabin or lodge near the water and fish from the banks for bass, catfish and stripers. They also can bring their horse and trot the Panhandle multiuse trail for a 15-mile, out-and-back tour through hardwood and pine forest. Heck, they can hunt here, too, in season, go bird watching, or watch re-enactments of Native American tribal customs.

That coyotes have spread rapidly across Virginia in the past decade or so doesn’t surprise game biologists. It might be a revelation of sorts for people in the state’s cities and suburbs, but coyotes are present and multiplying in every county in Virginia. “When I came here 20 years ago, they were uncommon,“ said Matt Knox, head deer biologist for the Department of Game and Inland Fisheries.

It turns out there are limits to the toughness of Conrad “The Caveman” Stoltz. Laid up in a local hospital bed when I spoke to him Wednesday, the former Olympian, who just won Richmond’s XTERRA Atlantic Cup off-road triathlon, admitted that he was putting on a brave face when asked how he felt. “You don’t really feel good, do you?“ I inquired.

On top of Belle Isle, heaving and gasping for air, I finally caught a break. Dan Hugo wanted to re-ride a section of trail to see if he could find a better line, one that would shave a second or two off his time Sunday. I gladly stopped and waited while he took his mountain bike back and chose a route between two trees. It was straighter that way but dangerous. Catch a handlebar on a tree trunk and a nasty spill is very possible. High risk, low reward. He decided against it.

River trip was simply Finn-tastic The best journeys always have a touch of Huck Finn in them. This first occurred to me as I watched Tim Buffkin standing in the back of a canoe reading the coming rapids in the Staunton River, his straw hat set at a jaunty angle. That was earlier in the day, but it seems a distant memory. Much has happened since then.

As impossible assignments go, deciding on the best fisherman in Virginia is up there with lassoing a wild grizzly and running Niagara Falls in barrel suspenders. But if Stephen Miklandric isn’t the best angler in the state, he’s certainly in the conversation. The Harrisonburg native and current Chesterfield County resident recently was named “Creel Angler of the Year” by the Department of Game and Inland Fisheries, meaning he caught more citation freshwater fish than any other Virginian in 2008.

Is America’s founding river primed to give Big Muddy a run for its money? That’s the question we’re left to contemplate after the news that Tim Wilson and Danny Ayers, two cousins from Rockbridge County, hauled a 102-pound, 4-ounce blue catfish from the tidal James River near Dutch Gap on May 20. That fish will soon be certified as the state record, besting the mark set by Archie Gold - 95 pounds, 11 ounces - in June, 2006.