The White and The Brown
The sun was high in the Sunday afternoon sky as we painfully lumbered down the stairs back to our respective boats. The stairs had seemed so much smaller as we took them two at a time in anticipation of the feast that awaited us at the top. You see, anglers on Arkansas' White River have a special treat that sits high on a bluff above the river. From a glass wrapped dining room cantilevered over the river one can watch fisherman cast and strip while enjoying a buffet fit for a king. Gaston's Sunday brunch is a unique experience. Fisherman can have their boats valet parked and tended while they flip their waders down and grub right next to the suit-wearing, post-church crowd. And by grub I mean FEAST. Fresh trout, omelet chefs, a chocolate fountain with a vast arrangement of treats to dip. Everything your heart could desire for breakfast and lunch. After nearly three days of catching trout on the White and its sister system, the Norfork, we had earned this feast.
Just about every publication known to the fly fishing crowd has reviewed the White and the surrounding fisheries. For a complete how-to guide on fishing them, one simply has to do an internet search and get as many opinions as there are trout in the river, and there are plenty! This isn't a how-to article, this here's a fish tale. A tale of three guys on a much needed three day weekend. Brandon, the outdoor writer and our host/ trip planner, Tom the paddler/ fisherman/ aspiring photographer, and myself, Don, avid paddler/ fisherman/ fish-tale-teller.
The weather was a bit warm for April. Upper 70's- low 80's and sunny seemed to be the order of the day -every day. Just as soon as we could throw our packs down in the rooms at The Lighthouse, we were off to the dam to wet our lines. Kevin and the rest of the folks at Bull Shoals Boat Dock/ The Lighthouse were great hosts. They are a full service marina on Bull Shoals Reservoir with guide services available on both the lake and the river, boat rental, accommodations, and even a dive shop. There's pretty much nothing on the water they don't do. With pleasant weather and near steady flows- we were off!
A day on the river with Jeremy Hunt was educational to say the least. Jeremy is a full time fishing guide from the Branson area who is eager to share his personal knowledge of the river. We spent a day fishing with him on the White and had a very productive day. Brandon fished from Jeremy's drift boat and landed quite a few nice trout. Rainbows and Browns were finding their way into the boat on a regular basis. No scale busters, but a steady flow of respectable fish. Tom and I paddled our fishing kayaks, gripping up with the drift boat in an eddy every so often to swap tales. All in all, we all caught fish pretty steadily all day, getting to our bridge-side takeout just after dark.
In an effort to increase our chances of hitting the Ozark grand slam (catching all four trout found in the river; Brown, Rainbow, Brook, and Cutthroat), we also spent a day on the Norfork. Brandon with his Hobie sit-on-top (complete with pedal-power), and Tom and Don in their kayaks. We took on the Norfork in all its fury- only there weren't no fury... Near stagnant flows and low water forced quite a bit of shallow dragging. Not enough to ruin the day, but more than enough to cause us to second guess our choice. Over all, we did catch fish. Nothing huge, a slow but steady catch of Browns and 'Bows- with Tom even throwing in a couple Brookies. No grand slam, but a solid triple.
As the Sunday morning sun rose, we once again took to the White. This time with Brandon, Tom, Kevin (our guide from Bull Shoals Boat Dock), and Kevin's wife, Deena, in a big river john for the day and Don sticking to his kayak. We put in at the dam and drifted our way along enjoying the beautiful weather once again. The fish were finding their way into the boat on a pretty regular basis. As lunchtime drew near, we knew that we had to find ourselves at Gaston's for the Sunday brunch. The conversation over lunch was the typical reflective small talk on what a fine trip it had been. No trophies, but plenty of action, good weather, and good friends. The talk drifted to whether we should tow the guy with the paddle back to the put-in or drift to the next ramp and have our ride meet us there. Of course, I being the guy with the paddle, argued for the latter- as I was sure there were more fish to be caught. Ultimately we decided to continue on down.
As we painfully lumbered down that tall staircase back to our boats it became evident that the pounds of delicious food had taken its toll on our enthusiasm. But still we pushed off and started the float to the takeout. Within minutes my back said 'enough' to the flycasting and I put an ultra light spin casting reel on my ol' faithful 5wt. flyrod. Sporting 4lb. line and a segmented Rebel trout pattern crankbait, I pitched the little lure into the current to make sure the rig was in order. Everything seemed fine and the next cast was at a downstream angle. I cranked slowly, letting the current do the work to get the lil' Rebel going. One drawl up stream followed by one short dead drift was all it took to bring 'it' up from the bottom. As I started the second upstream drawl, what seemed like an acre of gold flashed right behind the Rebel- AND THEN IT WAS ON! The other boat had drifted about 300 yards ahead and was completely oblivious to my sudden dilemma. I was hooked up on a fish that was seemingly longer than my net, handle and all, and was probably exceeding my line's capability by about 3-4 times. I fought the fish for a few minutes to make sure I wasn't dreaming before yelling for the other boat. No luck, they kept fishing and were oblivious to my luck. A couple more runs of the drag and a couple more yells and I finally got their attention (along with everyone else on the river). Upstream they came, to the rescue with cameras and net in hand. Together they cheered and barked advice as we drifted further and further downstream. With a stretch of shallow riffles coming up quickly time became of the essence. That fish ran and relaxed several times before finally agreeing to get in the boat. Brandon grabbed the big net and on the second try was able to scoop the big lady up and swing her into the john. You could hear us from the dam to the confluence as the cheers filled the air. She was huge and as fat as a football! A belly that hung like she had sat right along side us at brunch! We pulled to shore for high fives and pictures all the while keeping her in the shallows so as not to kill that beautiful lady. Soon enough it was decided to run her up to Stetson's for an official weight.
As the john boat headed upstream with the fish, I was left alone to enjoy a cigar and ponder what had become 'The Trip'. Sure there were bigger Browns caught that year. And sure there were guys who caught more fish. But we had just had 'the perfect storm' of conditions, camaraderie, and cooperation. I couldn't have asked for a better trip or better memories. Thanks to all for their help and for sharing it with me. I am now totally hooked on fishing the White River and look forward to many more trips. But none will ever top 'The Trip'. Oh, and the trout, she was 27" ,13 lbs. And that, boys and girls, is the story of The White and The Brown.
Enjoy the video attached of the catch.
http://youtu.be/SVGjKZxecE4
As we painfully lumbered down that tall staircase back to our boats it became evident that the pounds of delicious food had taken its toll on our enthusiasm. But still we pushed off and started the float to the takeout. Within minutes my back said 'enough' to the flycasting and I put an ultra light spin casting reel on my ol' faithful 5wt. flyrod. Sporting 4lb. line and a segmented Rebel trout pattern crankbait, I pitched the little lure into the current to make sure the rig was in order. Everything seemed fine and the next cast was at a downstream angle. I cranked slowly, letting the current do the work to get the lil' Rebel going. One drawl up stream followed by one short dead drift was all it took to bring 'it' up from the bottom. As I started the second upstream drawl, what seemed like an acre of gold flashed right behind the Rebel- AND THEN IT WAS ON! The other boat had drifted about 300 yards ahead and was completely oblivious to my sudden dilemma. I was hooked up on a fish that was seemingly longer than my net, handle and all, and was probably exceeding my line's capability by about 3-4 times. I fought the fish for a few minutes to make sure I wasn't dreaming before yelling for the other boat. No luck, they kept fishing and were oblivious to my luck. A couple more runs of the drag and a couple more yells and I finally got their attention (along with everyone else on the river). Upstream they came, to the rescue with cameras and net in hand. Together they cheered and barked advice as we drifted further and further downstream. With a stretch of shallow riffles coming up quickly time became of the essence. That fish ran and relaxed several times before finally agreeing to get in the boat. Brandon grabbed the big net and on the second try was able to scoop the big lady up and swing her into the john. You could hear us from the dam to the confluence as the cheers filled the air. She was huge and as fat as a football! A belly that hung like she had sat right along side us at brunch! We pulled to shore for high fives and pictures all the while keeping her in the shallows so as not to kill that beautiful lady. Soon enough it was decided to run her up to Stetson's for an official weight.
As the john boat headed upstream with the fish, I was left alone to enjoy a cigar and ponder what had become 'The Trip'. Sure there were bigger Browns caught that year. And sure there were guys who caught more fish. But we had just had 'the perfect storm' of conditions, camaraderie, and cooperation. I couldn't have asked for a better trip or better memories. Thanks to all for their help and for sharing it with me. I am now totally hooked on fishing the White River and look forward to many more trips. But none will ever top 'The Trip'. Oh, and the trout, she was 27" ,13 lbs. And that, boys and girls, is the story of The White and The Brown.
Enjoy the video attached of the catch.
http://youtu.be/SVGjKZxecE4
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