Return to my youth...

Some of my earliest memories of fishing are of floating and fishing the Upper Illinois River in Eastern Oklahoma with my family. We owned a couple of acres of riverside property where we'd go to camp out, fish, and float the river throughout the summer. It was great times to say the least. There was one particular fish that sticks out in those memories, a fish that we called "brownies" aka the smallmouth bass. I'd entertain myself for hours catching them with my old Ugly Stick/Zebco 33 combo, chunking Mepps spinners into the deep holes.

Fast forward almost 20 years to a couple weekends ago and there I was doing the same thing, floating a small river in a canoe in pursuit of the fabled "bronze-backs". It had indeed been almost 20 years since I had last fished for, let alone caught, a smallmouth bass. I was super excited to say the least. The drawback was that Joey and I were going to do the float on Memorial Day weekend, not exactly the best timing. After a little research, we decided to float a small river (that will remain unidentified) that flows in the Elk River, in hopes that most of the weekend floaters would be on the Elk. We put in about 3 miles above the confluence with the Elk River with hopes of big smallmouth and very little floaters!

We decided to bring the spinning rods and conventional tackle along with our fly rods just in case the bite was slow on the fly and because trying to cast a sink tip line on a 7wt with a clouser could be sketchy in a canoe. This little creek we floated was freaking amazing. Crystal clear cool water with tons of sweet looking water that could possibly hold a toad of a smallie! Lots of lay-downs, boulders, and deep holes provided tons of spots to toss a lure or fly. We started with our spinning rods, Joey throwing a texas-rigged watermelon lizard and me throwing a 1/8 ounce chart. spinnerbait. We worked the canoe around a little gravel bar island with a nice backwater hole on one side and a deep slow run on the other side. A few minutes later I was hooked up with my 1st smallmouth in almost 20 years! I couldn't believe how hard these fish fight, its amazing! I was really really excited.



A little further downstream, Joey picked up this nice smallie as we worked a deep rock ledge from the canoe.



We continued our float down the river, picking up smallies along the way in all the likely spots. This little river was just loaded with fish, I was impressed. More excitement came about in the form of a downed tree that created some small "rapids" that we had to take the canoe through. I hadn't been in a canoe in a very long time and was still wary of being in such a narrow boat, so I was pretty nervous coming up to the downed tree. We lined up with it and just paddled hard through it...the ol' Buffalo canoe shot through the chute with no problems at all. I'm not going to lie, I was holding my breath the whole time. After that I was good to go...

We hadn't caught a fish on the fly yet at this point so we came to a nice stretch of river that would allow us to do some wade fishing, beached the canoe, and dug out the fly sticks. I tied on a brown/orange clouser and walked upstream to a small side-channel that cut behind the gravel island we'd beached the canoe on. This little channel wasn't much more than 6-8ft wide and just a few foot deep but Joey said the smallmouth will move up in there if there is cover and shade. At the mouth of the channel was a small rock ledge with a deep hole so I launched the clouser just above it and let the current carry it into the hole. After the clouser disappeared into the depths, I began stripping it back towards me which was followed by a hard strike! I set the hook and pulled a good smallmouth from the hole, my first on the fly rod!



We pulled several good smallies from that stretch of the river before shoving off to finish the last leg of our float. We finally started to see floaters coming down the river at this time and, as we approached the confluence with the Elk River, could hear all the yahoos screaming and yelling. It was at this point that we decided to pack it in and paddle our way through the masses to meet Joeys dad at the take out. As we paddled, we got to experience 3 of the biggest hatches you'll ever see on the Elk River...the rubber hatch (rubber rafts), the aluminum hatch (canoes), and the bikini hatch (the girls in the rafts and canoes). It was quite a circus on the river, people everywhere!! We pushed through the heavy hatches and made our way to the takeout to end the day...

I'm now hooked on float fishing for smallmouth. I hadn't had that much fun fishing in a very long time. Brought back so many fond memories of fishing with my family, especially my dad, who taught me how to fish. The smallmouth bass is an awesome game fish to say the least, whether caught on conventional or fly tackle. I can't wait to get back in a canoe and chase 'em!

I'm officially a river rat...

Crappy forecast, trash fish, and broken rods...

Now that Donny and Chance had given us solid proof that the stripers were in Tulsa, our group was pumped. We all checked gear and caught up on our chores at home during the week so we could have the whole weekend to fish. There was only one thing that could blow all of our plans apart – weather. In case you’re not familiar with Oklahoma weather, springtime is a mixed bag of rain and shine, hot and cold, and the always present threat of hail and tornadoes. Anything can happen, and the local weatherman’s forecast is to be taken with a grain (or spoonful) of salt. Saturday morning came upon us with a forecast of 90% chance of rain, and the ‘addict from Arkansas’ Joey Cloer was up around 4 a.m. to check the radar. With no signs of immediate doom on the screen, he was on the road with a quick wake-up call to Chance to spread the good news. We’re going fishing!

6:45 a.m. found us at Swift Park just below Keystone Dam. We had been hearing good things about the area for the past couple weeks, and while waiting for the water to drop at Zink we decided to scout it out. The water here was pretty wide and deep, so we geared up and headed downstream, scaling the rocky shoreline and dreaming of drift boats. The humidity this morning was around 112%, so about the time that sweat started pooling up in the bottom of our waders we were pretty relieved to come across a rocky point where the river narrowed a bit and looked fishable. After about an hour of casting all around the point and a pile of boulders out in the middle of the river we hadn’t got a bite from anything other than rocks, so we decided to pack it in and head down to Zink Dam.

When we arrived at Zink the water had dropped to a few hundred cf/s, so we were all pretty optimistic about finding some fish. There were plenty of people lining the banks near the dam fishing with lures or bait, so we worked our way quickly downstream to the area where Donny and Chance had caught their stripers. Lo and behold, Joey was the only one to hook up downstream, landing a couple of small drum. We waded back up by the dam to see if they were biting up there, and along the way Joey hooked into a couple more drum.

Once we had worked our way to the east side of the river we finally got some action. While perched on top of some rocks in order to avoid being knocked over by a herd of gar, I tied on a fly that I had bought just because I liked its name… the Thunder Chicken. Sure enough, on the third cast I set the hook on a nice bite and reeled in a 15” blue catfish. Never would have thought that I would catch one on a fly rod, but that just shows how much I know.

Just before we decided to call it a day, Cole hooked up and landed a nice hybrid. Finally, we had caught one of the fish we were after! Still, the fish had been slow to bite all day long, so we packed it in and headed for home.

Sunday morning found Donny, Chance, and I gearing up to try the Arkansas again, with yet another day forecasted for rain. Never the less, we waded in downstream of Zink and spread out along the area where Donny and Chance had landed their stripers the week before.


Within a few minutes we were getting bites, and all of a sudden my rod bent like I’d hooked onto the back of a go-cart! Line started shooting off of my reel as the fish made the first of many long runs. This was a striper for sure!

After about five minutes and a quick lesson on how to play big fish on a fly reel, my arms were burning as I landed my first striper on fly tackle. She wasn’t a monster, but she was still by far the biggest fish this newb has had on the end of his leader.

Shortly after I landed my fish, the hole played out (minus a channel cat that liked deceivers) and we started working our way upstream.

Donny and Chance tucked in close to the pillars in front of the dam and caught a few fish, while I had spotted a school of large buffalo and decided to give them a try. They were running shad right under the pedestrian bridge, but no matter what pattern I put in front of them none would bite. I did, however, manage to hook a nice sized moss rock. I tried to roll cast off of it in hopes of not having to wade right through the fish, and I heard a loud POP right next to my ear. It turns out that my shiny, brand new, only had it a week, first weekend on the water, 9’6” Albright GP 8wt. rod had snapped in half.* Well this put a damper on things, so after a short conference we called it a morning, hoping that the clouds would clear off and bring us better fishing in the afternoon.

The afternoon turned out to be beautiful with plenty of sun, so we got brave and wet-waded up and down the river. Yet again few fish were to be found, but we departed the Arkansas at dusk with plans of future fishing trips already working in our minds, some good memories, and a pretty cool photo or two…

Crik

*Long story short- even though I had only used the rod for a few hours and had only possessed it for less than seven days, Albright refused to back their product and bluntly told me that I would just have to buy another rod. Since, I have read numerous reports of bad customer service and outright rudeness on Albright’s behalf, and refuse to conduct any future business with them. I only post this for the awareness of other anglers in the hope that they can avoid this experience.

The search continues...

Day Two

The next day provided an opportunity that we don't get to see very much as striper fisherman in Oklahoma...low water on the Arkansas River below Zink Dam. The low water pedestrian bridge and dam at 31st and Riverside in Tulsa provides awesome wade fishing WHEN and IF they actually close the flood gates on the dam. It doesn't happen very often so when it does happen, we always try to take advantage of it because great things usually happen. What happens during the striper run is the fish start to run upstream and Zink Dam basically stops them from going any further so what happens is you can find the fish stacked up in the deep holes and flats downstream of the dam where they feed on shad and spawn. It can be epic fishing...

Fellow addict Donny met me at the parking lot across the street from Zink Dam at 6 a.m. to get an early start on our search for the elusive striped bass. We started fishing below the east flood gate as there's a deep hole below the gate that opens up to a large flat that usually holds lots of fish. We worked our way around the flat while catching a new mess of sand bass and hybrids but no stripers were found.

We worked our way across the river to the other flood gate which has another deep hole below it but instead of a flat it has a spillway flowing into the deep hole from across the river from the other flood gate so the fish usually stack up in the deep hole or in the current where the spillway enters. We spent some time but only brought more sand bass to hand. Still no stripers. I talked to a few guys who were fishing with surf rods to see if they'd caught any stripers yet, nothing for them either! So we decided to keep heading downstream as there were a few more deep holes to work over...

We fished our way downstream, combing the depths of all the likely looking deep holes just hoping to find the fish but we were striking out. Frustration had started to sink in as we continued the walk downstream towards PSO when I noticed a guy fishing with conventional tackle that was hooked up with a fish...a fish that had his rod doubled over! Donny and I stopped to watch the guy pull in a nice striper off of a big flat just below PSO. Our hopes were renewed as we hiked downstream to the big flat and struck up a converstaion with the guy. Turns out he had 5 NICE stripers on his stringer, all of them over 10lbs plus he said he's caught around 15 fish in the 5-20lb range...all on topwater plugs! He also was a member of the OzarkAnglers fishing forum as he recognized me from pictures I had posted so it was cool to meet someone you only knew before as a username. He told us the fish had been chasing shad the last few hours, feeding heavily, but the bite had started to slow down. What a bummer...

Donny and I were determined though so we started working the flat with our clousers and deceivers, hoping for a strike. It didn't take long as I broke off a fish and missed a few strikes but then Donny got a solid hookset into a fish that made an impressive run. All Donny could say as the fish ran was "Oh my god! Holy shit!" along with a few other explicitives. It took all the line out of his hand and followed up by almost getting into the back. I'm trying to coach him while I quickly reel in so I could help with landing the fish when all of a sudden the line goes slack. Upon reeling in his line and inspecting the fly, we found that the fish had straightened the freaking hook!! It must of been a toad of a fish to say the least. Our confidence was once again renewed so we went back to ritual of the "chuck and duck" as we launched our big flies into the murky water.

Several minutes passed before all of I heard the same excited screams again from Donald as he had another fish ripping line from his reel! This time we were landing this fish! The fish made several hard runs all the while shaking its head like crazy...you could see the rod just throbbing in Donnys hand. Donny fought the fish like a seasoned veteran, wore the fish down, and brought the fish in close. Now the next issue was trying to land the fish with no net and being 50-75 yards away from shore. I walked out to the fish and tried to lip him a few times but couldnt get it done. Finally Donny got the fishes head up and started to pull him towards me so that I was able to tail the fish momentarily while I finally got my hand in his mouth to lip him. Soon as the slack line hit the fly, it popped right out of his mouth....we were extremely lucky! It was a nice male striper...long, lean, and just pure muscle! It was an awesome fish...



We were both extremely excited to land the 1st fish of the season and to get the monkey off our backs. After a few quick photos, we released the fish back into the murkey waters and set back to searching for more fish. Sometime had passed since Donnys fish with no strikes happening and we were considering calling it a day as other anglers began to exit the river as well. We decided to move downstream a little more to where the flat got a little deeper and was at its widest point. I made a long cast across the flat and let the deceiver fall into the depths before I started stripping the the fly back to me as fast as I could. The tell-tale "thump" of a strike followed shortly after which I set the hook instantly only to find my rod doubled over and all the line I had in my hand being ripped away. I got the fish on the reel and watched as it took foot after foot of my fly line. It stopped just a few feet into my backing and just sulked while it shook its head like crazy. I was almost positive it was a striper but you never know what you might hook in the Arkanas so I put the pressure on the fish and started to gain some line back. I'd gotten probably half my fly line back when I saw a huge swirl and splash while catching a glimpse of the tail of a BIG striper as it took all the fly line I'd just got back on the reel. I put the pressure on the fish but the 7-weight I was fishing with a little overpowered by the fish so it was quite the battle. I worked the fish over as best as I could, gaining line back slowly. Luckily, it never made anymore huge runs...just little bursts here and there. I got the fish close and we seen that it was a huge female striper. I finally turned her head and Donny got his hand in her mouth to lip her. Yes! She was a beauty. Big, strong, and healthy...her belly was HUGE either from eggs or shad. I was on cloud nine to say the least as this was the biggest striper I'd ever caught as well as being the biggest fish I'd ever caught on a fly rod. We snapped some good pictures and then revived her completely before turning her loose. Freaking awesome fish...




We fished for a little while longer before packing it up to make the long hike back to the truck. My arm was like a wet noodle from casting big flies on a sink tip line in the wind. We were both content though with the awesome fish we had caught. We'd just missed the action by maybe 30 minutes, if only had we walked downstream in the first place! Oh well, we know better now for the next trip to Zink! The spring run for the stripers in the Arkansas river has just now got into full swing so we'll have plenty of time to chase those big fish again. Also, with the weather we've been having, the striper run on the Lower Illinois is running behind a few weeks so we'll have the chance to catch fish there after the fish go back downstream on the Arkansas. Its looking like it could be a good spring for stripers...as long as the weather holds out for us and we don't get flooded out.

We have plans for this weekend to go chase stripers once again on the Lower Illinois or the Arkansas River, depending on the weather and generation. As long as there are no tornadoes or lightning storms, I'll fish in the rain if I have to. One thing is for sure, come hell or high water (literally), I'm going to keep searching for the next big bite...

Let the search continue...

Let the search begin...

Spring time signifies the start of lots of things in Oklahoma. For the outdoorsman, spring time means the chance to shoot a wild turkey, catch slab crappie as they spawn, or chase sand bass in our rivers as they make their spring run. For a select few though, spring time means it is time to start the search for probably the state's greatest game fish...the striped bass. This elusive fish, known more commonly as "stripers", is found in many of the states lakes but its the stripers who call the Arkansas river system home that those of us who suffer from the addiction pursue. These fish grow large and strong in the Arkansas river as they feed on anything that gets in their way all year until spring time rolls around and they start their spawning run.

To me, the striper is the Oklahoma version of the famed steelhead that so many people dedicate so much of their time to find and catch these fish. The fish can be hard to find sometimes, their feeding patterns are random at best, and, to make conditions even tougher, the best waters to find them are tailwaters that are subject to random generation schedules. From time to time though, everything falls into place...the water is right, the fish are there, and they are feeding! Its times like these that make all the searching, the walking, and the casting worth while...especially when you have a 20lb stripe at the end of your line.

For myself and my fellow addicts, our search began a couple weekends back on the Lower Illinois river below Tenkiller Dam. The LIR runs into the Arkansas river and tons of stripers make their spawning run up this little tailwater where they frequent the deep holes that are a long walk from any access point and gorge themselves on the rainbow trout that the Wildlife Dept stocks throughout the year. Under normal conditions, they start their run at the end of April and then return to the Arkansas about the middle of June . Joey Cloer and myself decided to make the drive down to the Lower Illinois to mostly do some scouting for stripers. I hadn't been down yet to do any scouting myself but I had heard that the conventional tackle striper guides were beginning to catch them at the mouth of the LIR and even were catching a few as far upriver as Gore Landing. So the early signs that the fish were moving into the river were good, just how far upriver they'd made it was yet to be found.

Day One

Joey and I met in Gore where he got his out-of-state license before we headed down to Marvals Family River Resort where we had decided to access the river. We geared up with big rods, big flies, and big hopes of tying into a big striper. We began our trek downstream to some deep holes that I'd caught stripers out of last year during the run. The walk downstream yielded some surprises as we found some holes had filled in but new holes had formed that looked promising. Joey was throwing a white/chart clouser while I was chuckin' a rainbow trout patterned deceiver, hoping to key in on the stripers primary food source while they were in the river. We dredged every deep hole, undercut bank, and deep run but never got a strike. As we continued downstream we came across large pods of buffalo spawning. When I say large pods, I mean hundreds of them schooled up for hundreds of yards, it was nuts. Joey couldnt resist so he tied on a brown/tan clouser and begin hopping it off the bottom through the hoards of buffalo. He quickly hooked up with a few nice 3-5lb buffalo that put on a great fight on the 8 weight. If we hadn't of had stripers on the agenda, we woulda spent the whole day catching those fish but we had bigger fish to fry!

All those black shapes are buffalo...

We continued our trek downstream...casting to every likely looking hole but coming up empty everywhere. Thoughts were starting to creep into my head like; "Are the fish even in the river yet?" "Are they even feeding because of the overcast and rainy weather?" "Are the flies we are using too big or too small?" I just couldnt figure out what the deal was...the fish had to be here! My answer came in the form of a fellow fisherman who came upon us and asked if we were fishing for stripers. We replied with a frustrated yes. He stated that the fish weren't running up the river yet and that he'd been down here the last few weekends looking for them, but the cooler weather has kept the fish in the Arkansas river. That information was a relief and a letdown at the same time for us as it meant we'd figured out why we werent catching fish because the fish weren't there!

We were about to pack up and head back to the truck when I made another long cast up next to a large log. I let the fly sink and began to strip it back to me when I noticed a large silvery torpedo came out from under the log to chase my fly. It quickly ran down my fly and flashed at it but missed it. I set the hook instinctively upon seeing the flash, obviously missing the fish but it kept swimming around looking for the fly. I quickly recast and put the fly right on its head! The fish whirled around and inhaled the deceiver instantly...I set the hook and the fight was on! The fish made an awesome run followed by a huge jump which allowed me to identify the fish....it was a freaking huge rainbow! She made a few more impressive runs, almost putting me into my backing before I was able to slide her into the shallows and grab its tail.

Big flies = Big fish!

It was the biggest rainbow I'd caught out of the Lower Illinois as well as the biggest trout I'd caught in a couple of years actually. She was fat, healthy, and full of color...quite impressive for a stocked fish. After some quick pictures and a little more admiration, I released her back into the river where she swam right back towards the log which she came from. We decided to call it quits on chasing stripers for the morning and made the long hike back to the truck.

We ended the day by putting away the big rods, breaking out the trout sticks and heading upstream to the Watts WMU access to catch trout for the remainder of the day. We each caught more than our fair share of rainbows so the day wasn't a total loss. We decided to give it a week or two and then come back to the Lower Illinois to start the search again...

The Return to the Current Part 2

Before continuing with day two of our trip, I must defend myself in light of the "lies" told about me in the previous post. What appeared to be me retiring to the tent, due to activities from the previous evening, while the other members of the group went fishing, was simply a ploy. I had to do something to get them to leave in order to make a hasty dash to the "secret" spot I had picked out from the previous year!!! Ahhhh hell, who am I kidding? Too many PBR's and staying up until the wee hours of the morning will make a man crave sleep something awful.

Well now that we have that cleared up, lets get to the important stuff. On the second morning of our Ozark get away, we once again found ourselves waking to the sound of thunder chickens doing their best to impress the opposite sex (for those of you who don't speak redneck, the term "Thunder Chickens" refers to wild turkeys). After wiping the sleep from our eyes and bundling up before stepping out into the crisp spring air, the morning rituals of stoking the fire, setting up the Coleman cookstove, and brewing coffee began. After a while, the smell of breakfast filled the still air, and the mauling of breakfast burritos commenced. After fueling up, we began the familiar dance of trying to coax our waders onto our tired bodies, worn out from a long night spent sleeping with rocks in our backs (with the exception of Chance who was smart enough to bring a convenient little sleeping pad). Then it was on to the rebuilding of leaders, checking gear, packing water, re-checking gear, discussing what the fish might possibly be interested in eating that morning, re-checking gear yet again, then packing our cheeks with some of the big spit (which is redneck speak for chewing tobacco), it was finally time to fish.

Upon reaching the river, our group began working a stretch of faster water just upstream from the Tan Vat access. Chance was the first to score this morning on a red San Juan worm. It was evident from the monkey like whoops and hollers coming from his direction, that he had hooked into a pretty good fish. I arrived by his side just in time to reach out with the net and scoop up the beauty you see below.



I have never seen a more beautiful brown trout with such vibrant colors before in my life. Truly an awesome specimen.


After that first fish confirmed San Juan worms seemed appetizing, it was game on. In no time Chance had hooked several more fish, with Derek following close behind. The San Juan didn't claim all the glory that morning though, with wooly buggers, caddis emergers, and some sort of wooly bugger/spinner/buzzbait contraption that Derek was throwing at one point claiming their fair share of fish.


As for Chris and myself, our morning was a little different from Chance and D's. I for one couldn't seem to find anything in my fly box that the fish liked. I don't know if the caddis emergers I was throwing were just too different from those thrown by the other members of the group, or if my presentation was key player in my lack of fish catching ability (I would wager that the second part of my previous statement was most likely the culprit). Needless to say, the remainder of the morning continued in a similar pattern, with many fish falling to the skills of Chancie and Little D.


After a while, our party began to disperse before finally rejoining at the head of a beautiful pool where our group (minus myself) had started their day of fishing the previous morning. As we walked up, you could see the fish stacked in the current, hiding behind rocks, and stalking the seams for anything that looked appetizing and was unfortunate enough to drift by. Our group immediately began hammering the hole with a varied arsenal of flies. Chance was the first to hook up, with Chris and Derek following in short order. The few fish that were brought to hand, didn't come easy, but the challenge was well worth it.


"Holy Crap, that fish is (expletive) huge!" were the words muttered by Chance as he caught a glimpse of a giant brown trout chasing minnows in the current. That was all it took, and I could tell Chance was on a mission. Cast after cast was made, but no presentation seemed to fool the big brown into taking. It wasn't until after we watched that fish, and several other nice trout, selectively pluck bugs from the water's surface that we decided to break out the 7X tippet and see if once of us could raise the ghost. Chance threw on a CDC caddis, as I followed suit with an orange stimulator. For the next hour we pounded that little stretch of water relentlessly with Chance bringing some nice browns to hand, and me coaxing a rainbow into biting. Unfortunately though, the big brown was never brought to hand.


I probably would have been fine spending the next 15 years of my life fishing that hole perched atop one of the many boulders scattered throughout the stream. But, the sun had already reached its height in the sky, and was beginning to make its downward journey to the West. With all of our gear waiting to be packed up, and a long drive ahead of us, we called it a day and headed for camp.


In all, the time spent on the water those couple of days is priceless even though, for reasons unknown to myself and Chris, the fish did not want to cooperate as much as we would have liked. Nevertheless, the memories made with great friends on such a magical river, in one of the most beautiful settings I've been in, means so much more than tons of fish brought to hand. In fact, I am kind of grateful for my 3 fish weekend. As the saying goes, if it were easy it would be call "catching" and not "fishing".





So, until next time......remember to use sunscreen & tight lines.

_c_A_c_

The Return to the Current...

A year ago, some friends and I planned a 4 day fishing expedition to cover several different waters in Missouri. The plan was to fish the Current, Little Piney River, Mill Creek, and Crane Creek. Well we made it to the Current and never left. The fishing was epic to the say the least even though the weather wasn't. The caddis hatch that came off was out of this world and the fish couldn't resist a #16 Elk Hair Caddis. It was awesome...

We returned to the Current this year on the same weekend that we came last year in hopes of encountering the same fishing conditions. The plan was to leave Tulsa on Friday evening, drive up, then fish saturday, and sunday. The weather forecast showed scattered showers for friday night so we had to stow all our gear under a tarp in the back of my truck. We crossed our fingers and prayed the tarp would keep our gear dry over the extent of the 5 hour drive.





We drove through the rain almost the entire trip but after a few quickstops at Wal-Mart for licenses (and some people watching) and Wendys for a healthy dinner, we arrived at Eagles Park Campground where the rain finally tapered off. There was a huge sigh of relief as we un-packed the gear and found all of it to be dry as a bone. We set up the canopy, tent, got a fire started, and broke out some adult beverages to celebrate our arrival to the fabled waters of the Current. We walked down to Tan Vat with flashlights and saw that the river was in great shape which got us pumped up for the next day.

For this trip, we had added another member to the crew, a newb to the sport of fly fishing. Chris was excited to come along after hearing all the great fishing stories from last years trip. Well, along 2:00 am on friday night, we came to the conclusion that Chris needed to be initiated into the group. I'm not exactly sure who came up with the idea but the next thing I know we're all walking back down to Tan Vat because it was decided that Chris had to walk across the river buck-naked to complete his initiation. I really didn't think he'd do it but he was a trooper. After a few more big drinks of liquid courage, he had stripped down to his boxers and began his trek across the Current River. With flashlights ablaze to light his way and his naked ass, he crossed all the way over to the opposite bank and then came back. I don't think I've lauhed that hard in a long time, I was laying on the streambank...crying because I was laughing so hard. He made his way back to the bank and quickly got back into his clothes before the early signs of hypothermia set in. We hiked back to camp to settle around the fire before we finally went to bad...which was about 3:30 AM. Not our smartest choice....



The next morning we awoke to the sound of gobbling turkeys off in the distance...not a bad way to start the morning. We were all slow to get out of our sleeping bags with only a few hours of sleep but the thought of rising trout and the smell of Dereks campfire breakfast burritos was enough motivation to get us going. Derek is the designated camp chef (or "cookie" as he's called) for all of our trips, his campfire food is the stuff of legend to say the least. After the normal routine of eating breakfast, drinking SEVERAL cups of coffee, gearing up and rigging up rods...we made our way down to Tan Vat.



(On a side note, we started the day without Cole because he had retired back to the tent due to reasons related to the consumption of adult beverages.)

I decided to make the long walk upstream of Tan Vat to fish the area from just below the state park down to below the area known as the "Rock Garden". This area is an awesome stretch of water...full of nice runs, seams, big boulders, and lots of pocket water. Its also full of trout as well! I started the day out with a #12 san juan worm with a #16 caddis emerger as a dropper as there wasn't any bugs coming off just yet. Chris and Derek were fishing similiar rigs but with different lead flies just to change things up. It didn't take long and we were all hooked up with some nice Current River trout...











We continued our trek downstream from the state park boundary, fishing every bit of the quality water that the Current had to offer. We were picking up fish mostly on the caddis emergers and pupae but I was also plucking a few fish from the river on a dark brown sowbug pattern that I actually tie for Taneycomo but after kicking over some rocks to find lots of sowbugs I figured it was a good choice. The dry fly action never really took off for us throughout the morning, although, there was hoards of caddis and mayflies coming off. This happened to me a few weeks earlier on my "scouting trip" to the Current as well, not really sure why the fish weren't keying in on all the bugs on the surface. We were able to hook up with a handful of fish on a size 16 CDC Caddis by targeting specific rising fish. This was very fun because the fish weren't holding a consistent rise pattern so it was quite the challenge, but we were able to succeed!







We finally arrived at the tail-end of the Rock Garden area and the fishing had began to taper off with the sun finally reaching its mid-day position. We decided to call it quits there and make the trek back to camp to get some lunch and to see if Cole was alive. We'd all caught our fair share of trout and were more than content with the mornings fishing. The upper stretches of the Tan Vat area is some awesome fishing and the scenery isn't too bad either. Its one of my favorite stretches of water to fish in the whole state of Missouri, with only the upper section of Crane Creek edging it out. Can't beat this river!!





We hiked back to camp and found Cole fishing just above the Tan Vat access point, casting a dry to a couple rising fish. He'd tangled with a few trout in his short time on the water due to his mid-morning nap. We pulled him out of the river and headed for the campsite. After some time in the camp kitchen, Derek had whipped us up some pulled pork sandwiches with baked beans from a wild feral hog he had trapped back home. It was delicious to put it lightly, everyone felt better to have some grub in the ol' belly. After lunch, we made a run up to the state park store to pick up a few flies, tippet, and some ice for the ice chests to keep the food and the adult beverages cold. Upon arrival, we all crashed out in the tent to get a short nap in before driving down to fish the area below the Baptist access point...the nap was freaking awesome.

We got up from our nap an hour later, geared up, jumped in the truck, and headed towards the Baptist access point to get in a few hours of fishing before darkness set in throughout the valley. We got down to the water and the caddis were, once again, coming off like crazy! Just hoards of them flying up the river! But, once again, there wasn't a fish rising anywhere on the river! So it was back to drifting the emerger pattern under an indicator, searching for big trout. The bite was pretty slow throughout the evening. I caught a few fish on my sowbug pattern and Cole actually caught a few fish on an elk hair caddis...but that was the highlight of the evening. I did do some scouting and walked downstream to check out how the river looked further down. I must say, there is some sweeeeettttt water downstream of Baptist. Big deep holes and some nice riffles everywhere. Bet there is some big browns hanging out down there...just got to find 'em! I will be back to test my theory...

We packed up and went back to camp so we could check on the pork shoulder that Derek had wrapped up and slow cooked on the coals of our fire. Luckily saturday night was pretty un-eventful. We ate like kings with pulled pork, baked beans, and potatoes all cooked over the open flame of our campfire. Shortly afterwards, we all retired to our sleeping bags to get a full nights sleep after spending the day doing what we love....chasing the dream!

Fly Fishing 201, Crane frustration, stinkbait, and Missouri pyromaniacs…

You can probably call me the “ultimate” newb in the group. Chance seems to have been born with a fly rod in his hand. Cole gave an account of his history with the passion last week. Donny bought his first fly outfit a little under a year ago. I, on the other hand, have just only recently dove head-first into the great obsession that is fly fishing. In the last three months I have evolved from talking about wanting to get a rod and give it a try - to owning a full set-up of gear, having fly fishing catalogs from Cabela’s, Orvis, and L.L. Bean scattered across my apartment, and collecting scrap pieces of tippet between my toes as I walk barefoot across my living room. As I type this there are three internet windows minimized up on my computer that contain information on gear reviews, fishing tactics, and water generation schedules. Yeah, I’ve got it bad.

Prior to this weekend I had only been fly fishing for trout twice on the Lower Illinois, which is a great place for a beginner to learn. But with a weekend trip to the Current River rapidly approaching, The Bum decided it was time to put us on some more technical water. So Chance, Cole, Donny, and I left Broken Arrow around 6 a.m. on Sunday morning loaded down with about three gallons of coffee, some EXCELLENT chocolate chip muffins courtesy of Chance’s wonderful wife (I hope she reads this so we can have some for the next trip), and bellies full of my more questionable homemade breakfast burritos. Our destination was Roaring River, with the lesson plan covering the skills of mending, proper weight usage, and fishing elbow-to-elbow with the rest of the crowd.

About two and a half hours later we pulled up to the park store to get our fishing licenses and trout stamps, along with a few last minute flies, then we geared up and headed down to a stretch of the catch and release area. There were a few cars in the parking lot, so we were pleased to see only one other fisherman in view. This water was like looking through glass compared to the Lower Illinois and definitely had more flow than we were used to, at least for me and The Don. Chance and Cole waded straight in and put lines on the water, while Donny and I worked our way up stream a ways. Within a couple hundred yards we found a couple pools with about a dozen fish stacked up like dominoes and we set to it.

We threw everything but our hats at them and couldn’t get ONE bite. We were trying everything. Mending, changing presentation, changing flies… it didn’t matter, nothing worked. The fish wouldn’t even move, not one look. I could hear Donny laugh in frustration as fish jumped five feet away, and I watched as a fish almost ran between my feet. Cole was still fishing around the same stretch he had started on, while Chance had moved around the bend and out of sight. Finally I heard Donny set the hook. ‘Ata boys were being proclaimed and hopes were rising while he landed the fish… a perch. Hmm… Well a fish landed is a fish landed in my book, and something was biting so I got back to fishing. I tied on an orange beadhead wooly bugger and got a couple of good fish to follow it, but they still weren’t biting. It was starting to warm up, and after another half hour had passed Chance walked back up to where we were. We decided to head to the truck and shed a layer.

After refueling ourselves on coffee and muffins we headed downstream. Chance said they had been biting around the bend, and had caught some ridiculous number of fish (like seventeen) on some magical little fly he had tied and only had a couple on him. So we tied on whatever we could find that looked similar and waded in. This is where mending school really began and within a couple of casts Chance had me on the fish. I caught one right off on a beadhead BWO emerger, but after a bit switched to eggs and they really started biting. These fish were good and fat, and seemed content on eating whatever color egg I threw at them. I must have been on the prime spot because Donny and Cole weren’t having much luck. After a while the fish quit biting and it had become a little crowded in our area, so we decided to pack it in and move down river a bit.

We headed down to the no wading area of zone two and spread out along the bank. This place was definitely a popular spot and had plenty of people moving around trying to find the fish. I got lucky and staked out a nice area where the water stepped down and the fish were feeding. I hooked a couple on eggs before I noticed the fish were feeding off the top of the water, so I tied on a blue winged olive and set my sights on the fish that seemed to be feeding the most. My heart would rise and fall as I would watch fish after fish come toward my fly… only to eat the bug next to it or shy away at the last moment. Finally, after this happened ten or thirty times, one took the BWO and I landed my first catch with a dry fly!

The rest of the guys had all moved up to where the trout had stacked up in a big pool next to a dock for the handicapped, and there were some real pigs in there. You could watch as a couple of 20+” monsters worked their way around the pool, and Chance got one to hook up and fight for a bit before it shook him off. Other than that not many fish were biting here, and space on the dock began to get scarce so we pointed the truck toward Crane.

Now we had all heard and read about Chance’s adventures on Crane Creek in the past and the challenges it presented, but none of us had ever been there. Just listening to a description of the place and the methods required to be successful were enough to plant the seeds of doubt in my mind… but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to give it a try. Our 9’ 5 wt. rods weren’t going to be much use here so we rigged up a couple of Chance’s short rods and tramped down to the water. Fully intending to play guide for a while, Chance didn’t carry a rod, and was tossing last minute tips and strategies over his shoulder as we made our way downstream. The plan was to take turns fishing our way back toward the bridge, and I was “volunteered” as first at bat. Well, I spent my time at the first hole learning how to cast a 6’ 3 wt. from my knees. No luck. We started working our way upstream, leap-frogging from bend to bend. Donny’s 9’ rod put him at a severe disadvantage here, but he did find some neat fossils on the riverbank before finding a deep pool that he could jig his fly through. I skipped up stream a ways and found a long, straight stretch of the creek that I could cast down the middle. Or so I thought, as I quickly found myself a tree-fish that kept half of the leader as a trophy. I decided I better give Chance his rod back before I broke it. Cole was finding tree-fish too, so we fired our guide and told him to go fishing. After all, we wanted to see a McCloud first-hand and daylight was rapidly fading. Not one to let his buddies down, Chance hooked up on his second cast!

And again not ten minutes later!

By this time I was content just watching and learning, but Cole on the other hand had declared a vengeance against Crane Creek and its McCloud rainbows. As daylight slipped away and we found ourselves walking back to the truck, Cole was still fishing his way upstream. It wasn’t until we had all of our gear packed away that he came walking out of the woods, vowing to come back and conquer the Crane on another day.

Often when you’re traveling you get to experience new things, sights and smells that you don’t encounter everyday in your neck of the woods… like the sun rising over a snow capped mountain top, or the smell of a turkey farm alongside the road. We weren’t ten minutes on the road to home when a smell overcame the truck that sent us all to gagging and the windows down. We couldn’t get away from it! It smelled as if some gremlin had lined the a/c vents with Danny King’s stinkbait. I’m telling you this smell was vile, and we could not find where it was coming from! When the light-headedness finally passed another smell greeted us… smoke. I was starting to wonder if the eye watering-lung burning-stomach turning-gag a maggot-stinkbait odor had fried my sense of smell when Donny spotted a burning brush pile. And another, and not a mile down the road another! The more we got to thinking about it we realized we had seen something burning nearly everywhere we went in Missouri that day. By the time we crossed back into Oklahoma, we had counted over a dozen burn piles. After we got home I looked around on the internet to see if Sunday had been Missouri’s “burn stuff in your yard” day or if we had unknowingly run over Bigfoot and carried his stench home with us- but couldn’t find a thing. I guess we’ll have to do some investigating on our next trip into The Show Me State…



Crik