June 21, 2005
A Chihuahua In Holy Waters
If somehow we could compare the world of dogs to the world of fly-fishers, I know very well that I am just a Chihuahua in a world of St. Bernards.
Bruce on the other hand is a student, scholar, and theologian of the quiet sport. I think the man is truly in love.
One note of caution is in order here. When Bruce is ready to go fly-fishing, which is always, please don’t get in his way. I wouldn’t exactly call it road rage but rather “in a hurry to go a-fishing impatience.” However, it can be quiet animated.
I said something to Bruce about it today and sometimes the way I say things doesn’t come out the way I mean them. I think I may have hurt my buddy, my amigo, and my friends’ feelings. So….Bruce, this is for you. I know when you get back home you will read all of this so man I am sorry. I just wanted to slow down a little.
Today we are standing on the banks of what has been described as the holiest trout waters of Arkansas and I am humbled. Today a Chihuahua will wade in these holy waters. Welcome to the Norfork tail waters.
There has seemed to be confusion on the correct name of this stretch of water. It is commonly called the North Fork River, which it is not. So, for reporting purposes we will refer to it as the Norfork tail waters.
The voyage getting here was to say on very choppy seas while sailing the prairie ocean. In other words that road we came down was the roughest, most potholed, washboard, gravel the size of a cue ball road I have ever been on. Bruce says the rougher the road the better the fishing. I tend to agree with him.
We are camped at McClellans Trout Dock. Hey, this isn’t no country club but the people are extremely nice and helpful and besides all of that good – the waters here are famously popular.
We meet three nice ladies across the way named Debbie, Cindy, and Jeanane. As it turns out Debbie is a fly-fisher and she knows these waters quite well. We visit for a while and then we go to look at the water.
The reason we are looking at the water is to see if the release has stopped and the river has went down. We have been in Arkansas for three days now and have been chasing Rainbows and outrunning water. Does that make any sense?
We gear up and go down to the water to do some night fishing. Now…night fishing is not my cup of tea. My nemesis in my fly-fishing life has become my eyesight, so why in the H E {double you know what} would I want to go fly-fishing at night? Because it’s something new in my fly-fishing life!
We start fishing in the generated water that we are confident, or at least hopeful, is going down. This is blind fishing for me but I simply follow Bruce’s instructions. He gets one on only to loose the battle. I get one on only to loose the battle. Bruce gets another one on and he wins that battle!
Meanwhile, Debbie comes down to water, wades right in and lands a couple of trout. After a lull in her success she comes up for a chat and what am I thinking? “Hey Debbie, you wanna’ go fishing in the morning and kinda show me around?” “Sure, be here at five.” she replies. “Five? How about six?” “See you at four Barry.” “Okay, five will be fine.” You know women, they have to have their way and this is particularly true of women who fly fish. Debbie offers me her fishing honey hole but I politely decline. Bruce takes that hole right away.
As Bruce moves into that honey-covered beehive of water and I’m walking up the hill to the campsite I hear him holler. “Barry, I got one.” I hesitate for a moment but continue on because I have learned to gauge the size of the fish by the inflection in Bruce’s voice; that fish is not that big. I continue on to the most welcome shower house – I’m beat.
I think Murphy’s Law says something to the effect that crap is going to go wrong. If that’s the case then Murphy’s Law is right on. You see, I was in the shower when I thought I heard one of those Arkansas panthers scream. It wasn’t – it was Bruce. I really didn’t know it at the time I heard the scream because I was really enjoying the hot water on my aching back. But…when Debbie knocked on the shower room door I knew I better get my butt in gear.
Somehow in all of this I have become the official photographer. Heck, I even tried to take a picture of myself in the rear-view mirror the other day. I’m getting a lot more laptop and picture taking time than I would like – sure cuts into the quality fishing time. But, Bruce needed my help (in the picture taking department) because he had brought to hand a dan dan dandy, grade A, USDA number one choice, big ole Brown.
It was a beauty! We got a picture too
That was an hour and half ago! It is now 11:16 p.m. and I just heard the dangnest splash in my fly-fishing life. I gotta’ go for now and fetch that camera.
Yep, another big Brown equally as nice and yes I got a picture. It is almost midnight now and Bruce won’t quit. The man is a machine. I have to shut down or just drop dead. I go to the bedroll.
6 a.m. Tuesday morning.
Crap, Bruce said he would set the alarm…he didn’t. I was to meet Debbie at five and here I am an hour late. No telling what she thinks of me. Bruce is sawing logs so I leave him to be. I figure those Browns wore him out last night. Debbie is in the water when I get there and I apologize first and foremost for being late.
She tells me to start out with a bugger so I do but we get zero results. She then leads me upstream to the riffles and says “red ass”. I have only one red ass so I tie it on and hook up with a fish but the fish takes my red ass with him leaving me with a red you know what. We fish another hour with little results.
Bruce and I tried to fix my five weight yesterday but it didn’t work. I have the eight with me this morning and it’s just too much rod for this discipline of fishing. Debbie wants a cup of coffee and I decide to go also to see if I can somehow make my five work. As we are leaving the water here comes Bruce.
I return to camp to get the five and a vehicle pulls up. The gentleman walks up and asks about the trout bum tourney. It turns out I’m talking to Duane Hada. Duane is one of the better-known guides in Arkansas and a heck of a nice guy. Duane is a real heck of a nice guy! He meets me in the water later, gives both Bruce and myself some flies guaranteed to work, shows me a rig he ties and even shows me how to fish it. Duane continues on after I get his picture. I start fishing again and after a couple of casts I have a nice Rainbow and Brown in hand. These waters are loaded with trout and they are very selective. This morning they are keying on midges. Oh…let me say that if anyone needs a guided trip in the Ozarks I would highly recommend Duane. He is a pleasure to talk with.
There is a predominant midge hatch on this stretch of water. Midges, scuds, and sculpins are the main sources of food for the trout. There are some bruiser Browns in these waters. This stretch of water held the Arkansas state record for Browns for many years.
It’s almost noon now and I’m trying to finish this report so we can get to the library before it closes. Plus we have other trout bum business to tend to like getting some dadgum food. Oh yeah, laundry is piling up too, gotta do something about that, dang it. I still have to upload pictures and that will kill the better part of an hour. They’ll start generating soon so we won’t lose too much fishing time.
And where’s Bruce right now? Where do you think?
Today’s reflection: When you’re an unfamiliar fly fisher in unfamiliar waters take all the advice you can get from the people that know the waters. It will help you catch fish.
Long live the mighty Norfork tail waters and long live our home waters Blue River.
Barry & Bruce
The Blue River Bummers
Sail On With The Bummers
