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Now you can talk to me all you want to about dumb animals but I am here to tell you
that once a trout takes a fly and it is pulled through his mouth and revealed as a fake he
will not hit it again that evening. You get one chance and one chance only.
I looked for and found another and the result was
the same. The light was failing fast and I knew I wouldn't get many more chances. The last
fish I casted to was rising upstream from me and slightly to my right. I made a good cast,
the fish rose and took the fly and the hook found its way into the fishes jaw. It was an
average size brown and gave up to the unyielding pressure of the rod and I slipped out the
hook and released him. I waded ashore, fulfilled now that I had caught a trout.
I was on the North Fork of the White River
in Southern Missouri with my father-in-law, Fred, for several days of fly fishing and
visiting with our good friends the McKees who own and operate
River of Life Farm Outfitters on the river. They
have several cabins including "the
chalet" a pretty, well stocked
house on their property.
I have been visiting them at their place
for about 13 years now and have never met a more wonderful family of people. They home
school their children, all 7 of them, and a smarter, more well behaved, fun bunch of kids
you have never met.
I returned to the RV after catching the
brown, and proclaimed to "Pop Fred" that the trip was a success if we would have
to pack up and leave right then. This was the first time in years I have hit the river
when it was low and clear enough to fish properly. We spent the rest of the evening
watching a movie on the TV/VCR and then turned in for the night.
Tuesday morning, after breakfast, I tied
on a number 10 olive flashabugger and headed downstream from "the falls". The
falls is a rock ledge over which the river rushes to form the trickiest piece of water on
the river, from a floaters point of view. I have seen countless canoes run up on the rocks
here and swamp and bend around the rocks from the force of the water.
I fished for a hundred yards or so
downstream without success and then a small rainbow hit the fly and hooked himself. He put
up a good fight, despite his size, with the aid of the swift current and was landed and
released.
A few minutes later a fish smashed the
flashabugger and I felt the thud, thud, thud, of a bigger fish. I thought it was one of
the large browns which inhabit the river but I could just make out the green back and pink
side of a wild, streambred rainbow trout. If I had not cut my leader back to a heavier
weight tippet, the fish may have broken off. Such was his power downstream from me in the
heavy current. But the tippet held and I eventually brought him to hand, a beautiful,
healthy, 16" fish. As I released him, he darted away into deeper water and I knew I
had not played him too long and that he was still in good condition and would survive to
fight again.
That was the extent of the action for the
morning and I returned to the RV for lunch and some R&R that afternoon. For a time I
took a lawn chair to the edge of the river and just watched it roll by, drawing my stress
and cares along with it. I was reminded of a line of literature I once heard, "I am
haunted by waters". It is particularly true for me.
I passed the rest of the afternoon
blissfully napping in the RV and arose to fix an early supper so as to have time to fish
the evening rise. After a big meal of steaks and baked potatoes, I suited up and headed
upstream to a heavy riffle to try and break the code there. I have snorkeled the river in
a wet suit and knew there to be a lot of fish in this particular stretch of water.
I rigged up with a nymph and a lot of split shot to get the fly down near the bottom, but
when I got hung up and lost the fly and all the weights, I got disgusted and put on the
flashabugger again. I got a few hits before I noticed some fish rising in the choppy water
below me.
This was what I had come
for, to fish the rises, so I tied on a long piece of fine tippet and the size 18 parachute
blue winged olive and waded down to give them a shot.
I got into position above the rising fish and
presented the little fly on a
downstream slack line cast. The first fish it drifted over came up and smacked it and was
solidly hooked. It was a 12’ wild rainbow.
More rises and more fish and I was on a roll. I could raise almost every fish I cast to
and hooked most of them. Then as I waded carefully downstream on the treacherous riverbed,
I came to another pod of rising fish. I took nearly all of them including another 16"
rainbow. On the tiny fly and light tippet, this fish was more exciting than the 16 incher
that morning.
I called to a new friend I had made that
morning, who was staying in the chalet, and told him to come up where the action was. He
was a brand new fly fisher and could not yet master the drag-free drift and caught none. He
and his partner had agreed to go night fishing with me, but both backed out at the last
minute and I started alone.
I put on a big dark muddler minnow and
started casting blind in the dark. I fished for a time before boredom overtook me and as I
reeled in to quit, I discovered that my line had been seriously tangled almost the whole
time I had been fishing. No fish would have taken the fly as tangled as it had been. I
returned to camp and watched "The Bridges of Madison County" with Pop Fred
before we both turned in.
Wednesday morning Pop Fred drove me up the
river where I put in at the first riffle below the Casey Hole. Although the water was
similar to what I had fished the day before, few trout came to the flashabugger and even
fewer were hooked.
I did manage to hook and land one after
seeing him rise to a dry fly. I quickly changed to an elk hair caddis and nailed him on
the first drift over him. That was the sum of the action for the morning.
After lunch I suited up and drove
downstream. I moved over to the edge of the water and waded in to fish a fast riffle with
the flashabugger. As I entered the water I scanned the river up and downstream and saw a
canoe approaching from upstream. I made a few casts and then turned to look at the canoe
passing behind me to avoid catching them with a backcast. As I did so, my left foot went
out from under me on the slick bottom and I went in up to my neck!
I struggled to the surface to hear one of
the canoeists make a sympathetic remark about the slick bottom. Silently heaping curses on
their heads for distracting me, I waded to shore, stomped up to the Jeep and returned to
camp to dry out and change clothes. Myron chuckled at me for getting baptized and told me
that stretch of water was named "soap and water shoal" for all the baths folks
had got there over the years.
After an early supper of grilled chicken,
I headed back to the river to fish the evening hatch. A little tan mayfly in about a size
18 was coming off the water and the trout were taking them regularly. I didn’t have a
match and spent many frustrating minutes trying to get a hookup.
I finally got one to come up for a weird
pattern called a "halo nymph". I managed to get him in and should have thought
to use my stomach pump to find out exactly what they were eating. But I put him back
immediately and didn’t hook another fish that night.
Thursday morning I went back down to where
I hooked the 16 incher the day before, but the spell was broken, and I only got a couple
of hits. I returned to the pool in front of McKees and did manage to get a few rises to
dry flies before I had to quit for the trip home. Although I didn’t land any of those
trout I got a thrill from it just the same.
Pop Fred and I made one last visit to the
McKees and then unhooked for the trip home. Except for forgetting to turn the gas shutoff
valve on and spending several frustrating minutes trying to light the hot water heater,
the trip went smoothly.
If you would like more information on
renting the
chalet or
another cabin from River of Life
Outfitters call Myron McKee at 417-261-2397. Believe me when I tell you it is worth the
expense of the cabin just to see that river, even if you never wet a line. If you’re
lucky, maybe you’ll get to push one of the kids in the rope swing.
Flyfishing for Trout at the River of Life is
copyrighted material and may not be reproduced or copied or transmitted in any form
without the express written permission of the
Webmaster.
Call today to make your Reservations!
River of
Life Farm
RR. 1 Box 4535
Dora, MO 65637
417-261-7777
Myron@RiverofLifeFarm.com
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