The Great Gift.

I had been given an early fathers day gift by my wife and daughters: a flyfishing weekend at the location of my choice. Not knowing where I would like to go, or who with, my wife left the details to me, and my mind immediately began to ponder the potential locations. Having moved to Kansas City from Denver approximately one year ago, I tend to gravitate toward Colorado when it comes to flyfishing. But this time I had a problem: runoff. Early June is the time of year that you wait for the rivers to clear in the mountains, and I was in no mood to wait. I was ready to pack the car and go at the first mention of a trip. I could wait a couple of weeks, but not a month, maybe more. I was reminded of a conversation with a fellow angler who pointed out that we have some of the best flyfishing waters in the country right here in Missouri. I started to do the math. A four to five hour drive to fish close to home, or a potential plane ride, or an even longer drive to get to the mountains. One added up to more time on the water, so I decided on the local choice. But my decision was not complete. Which river? This stuff is never easy is it? With a little thought, and some good advice from a friend, it was a surprisingly easy decision.

In August of 1999, I took a trip to the North Fork of the White River, and stayed at the River of Life Farm. I had visited the Missouri Flyfishing website, clicked on fishing locations, and the rest is, well, you know. My first trip had been a success. Plenty of fish, great accommodations, and a big, beautiful river that was surprising for someone who grew up in the Northwestern mountains of Maine. Trout in Missouri? Near Arkansas? I wouldn't have believed it, but found it to be true. This time, after deciding to stay in Missouri, I e-mailed Myron at the ROLF, and inquired as to the potential for dry fly activity during the month of June on the North Fork. His advice was encouraging, and my decision was made. I booked a camping site for the weekend of June 3, as well as a guided trip on Saturday, as I wanted to explore more of the river than I had during my previous visit. The trip was arranged, and I was ready to go. I told Myron that I would see him on Friday morning.

I left Kansas City at 4:00 a.m. Friday with great anticipation. My plan was to fish the "Miracle Mile" of private water at the ROLF on Friday, and take a guided float trip with Shelby Nold on Saturday. Myron had arranged for Shelby to meet me at the farm on Saturday morning. Needless to say I was ready for a couple days of flyfishing. After driving through a series of pretty strong thunderstorms, I arrived at the farm at about 9a.m., to find blue skies, and an inviting river filled with wild trout. I had a nice conversation with my host, and headed toward Pescadore's point to set up camp, and get on the river.

I chose the same campsite that I had used during my first trip in August, because of it's access to the river. A quick walk over the bank, and you're into the fishing. My kind of spot. As I began to unload my gear, I found myself thinking of that quick walk, and how easy it would be to string up the flyrod for a couple of quick casts before setting up camp. I always enjoy setting up camp, because I am filled with feelings of anticipation of the days ahead, and the realization that the next couple of days will not require a wristwatch, or a whole lot of responsibility in general. Although tempted by the river for a few quick casts, the thunderstorms that I had driven through concerned me somewhat, so I decided to get my work done, and fish later. It has been more than once that "a few quick casts" has turned into an entire morning. A muddy tent bottom would not start the weekend off right. The responsible side of me won the battle, and after about an hour of setup time, I was ready to enjoy the rest of the day on the Miracle Mile.

For those of you who have never been to the ROLF, I would greatly encourage a trip. You are missing out on some fantastic water. Slow moving pools, fast riffles, and an abundant food source for the trout make for a fantastic setup. I started to wade downstream from my campsite in the direction of Cave Riffle. I didn't make it all the way to Cave, as I was too impatient. With this much fishable water, and the wade to Cave Riffle being about ten to fifteen minutes, how could I wait to get to Cave? I tend to like to fish upstream, in order to cover as much water as possible. I don't really know why, but it seems to work for me. I decided to head back upstream, and fish a Royal Wulff, with a flashback pheasant tail as a dropper, which would allow me to use the dry fly as a strike indicator, as well as a potential enticement for some surface activity. The flashback pheasant tail yielded almost immediate results, fooling a young rainbow trout. After about an hour of working the water, I decided to abandon the surface fly, as I had no takers. I tied on a Beadhead Prince, with the flashback as the dropper. I can't tell you how many rivers across the country allow a fine day of fishing with a beadhead prince. I just think it's a solid, all around fly. I always tell myself, "start with the beadhead, just to see what's out there." By the end of the day,(if I haven't managed to break off or leave a couple in the branch of a tree, which I always do) I am usually fishing with the same fly. It's that good. I have found the North Fork to be no exception to the rule. I'm sure that I could find exactly what the fish are feeding on, and probably catch a few more. But that's a chance that I'm usually not willing to take. At the end of this session, I had landed six nice fish, all rainbows in the 10-14 inch range. A pretty good morning, all in all. I was briefly interrupted by a passing shower (downpour) lasting for about 10 minutes, and then the blue sky returned. I reminded myself how it sometimes pays to let the fish wait, as I was going back to a dry camp.

After lunch, and some firewood gathering, I proceeded to fish my way up to "The Falls," and found the fishing to be somewhat slower than it had been downstream. I think that there is always a time during the day when the fish just shut down, and don't feed as much. This was one of those times. I decided to get everything ready for dinner, and await the possibility of evening surface feeding. I figured that if a hatch did come off, I would most likely be cooking very late, and that I should be prepared for finding my way back to my campsite in the dark.

I waited until about 7p.m, and pulled the waders and vest on. I had intended on getting back on the water a little bit earlier, but simply enjoyed the quiet at the campsite instead. I tied on a #16 brown elk hair caddis, hoping for a little bit of dry activity in the two hours remaining before dark. I decided to fish directly in front of my camp, as I had been hearing the intermittent sound of a few trout taking naturals off the surface. On the second cast, I was rewarded with a nice rainbow, probably in the 14-15 inch range. There is nothing like dry fly action. It's what attracted me to the sport when I was young, and always keeps me coming back for more. If you ever want to get someone interested in the sport, as my grandfather did for me, try to get them over some fish that are feeding on the surface. Good luck, because in the grand scheme of things, those times are few and far between. But when they do happen… wow. I managed to fool three other fish, not as large, but just as much fun to catch. I had started the charcoal on my baby Webber grill before getting into the water, and could smell the smoke as darkness began to fall. It had been a fantastic day, and I knew that with a guided trip scheduled for Saturday, another was in store. After a hamburger and an ear of corn, it was time to call it a day. I fell asleep to the sound of The Falls, and stars in the sky.

I set my alarm for 5a.m., but after awaking at 3a.m. the day before, I couldn't bring myself to get out of my sleeping bag. At 6:00 I heard a car door slam outside of my tent. Was Shelby (my guide) here already? We had arranged by voice mail to meet at the main house at 8a.m, and for an instant, I thought that I had overslept. Not the case. My host was inviting me to breakfast at a "place up the road." Myron also informed me that Shelby had arrived the night before from just outside of Springfield where he lives, for a little bit of fishing, and a good night sleep. I had seen someone fishing the Falls the night before, and would later learn that he managed to land a nice brown trout before dark. I told Myron that I would meet him at the house at 6:45. That way I would not have to worry about directions. Directions involve responsibility, you know.

I met Shelby Nold at the house, and liked him immediately. We began to talk about his fishing experience at The Falls the night before, the plan for the day, etc. I was encouraged. I knew that I had a great day in front of me. We arrived at Bessie's bed and breakfast after a leisurely drive on a beautiful morning. We started with biscuits and gravy. Homemade biscuits and gravy. This was served with eggs and bacon, coffee, and orange juice. As we were all commenting on how delicious everything was, we were presented with blueberry French toast. This stuff is deadly! We all could have been just fine with the biscuits and gravy, but the food kept coming. What was especially nice was the setting, in that it gave you the feeling of eating breakfast in a familiar kitchen. If you get the chance, eat at Bessie's. But bring your appetite; you're going to need it. If you aren't careful, you may need a nap after breakfast as well.

Shelby and I launched our canoe at my campsite. The plan was to float to Patrick bridge, where Myron was scheduled to pick us up at 5:00. I was positioned in the front of the boat, Shelby in the back to allow me to cast to all of the holes and riffles along the way. My guide was well prepared, bringing two other fly rods to allow me to quickly change fly patterns without having to wait and tie on new flies. It didn't take long before we started to be productive. We landed a small brown before reaching cave riffle, which was taken on a #12 beadhead prince nymph. After negotiating cave riffle without getting wet, or knocked in the head by a tree, we continued to float and land average sized fish in the places that you would expect to see them. The river is sometimes deceiving, as it has shelves that just drop off, right out of the blue. As you're floating, the water may look very shallow, so you may not even have your fly in the water for fear of getting hung up on bottom. Then, out of the blue, you're directly over a nice sized hole. Needless to say you need to pay attention.

During the trip we would stop and fish the areas that looked really good. These were the type of seam setups that one could fish all day if they had the patience, because you just know that they hold some really nice fish. The first area that we stopped at yielded two of the best rainbows of the trip, large fat and strong. One was taken on a prince nymph, the other on a black woolly bugger. The second area also served as our lunch spot. After trying the prince setup and the woolly bugger, we decided to try Shelby's 3 weight rod, which had a crackleback tied to it, one of Shelby's favorites. It felt extremely light after casting five weights all day, and in the current, I could barely make out the fly. But on the second cast.. wham. A monster trout smacked the crackleback. Unfortunately, it broke off after a few seconds, but what a thrill. We both thought about how big we thought that fish was for the rest of the day, and what it would have been like to land it in the current, on a 3 weight rod. Wow! After a fantastic streamside lunch (prepared by Ann McKee) and some great conversation, we pushed on towards Blair Bridge.

We continued to catch fish all the way to Blair, but not as many. The fish had definitely hit their slow time of the day, time for a trout siesta. But that's what's great about floating a river that you don't know all that well. If the fishing is slow, you end up "scouting" for another time, and you can end up finding some really good spots that you know will produce the next time you visit. After reaching Blair, we entered the trophy management area, which was new floating territory even for my guide. While the fishing was still slow, we found the possibilities for trout to be numerous. The interesting thing about this water, was that the distance between riffles was much less than in the wild trout management area. It seemed as if this area had more possibilities. Unfortunately, we were already late for our pickup, so we resorted to casting a crackleback toward the banks with Shelby's 3 weight, while he got us to Patrick bridge (a full hour late). Sorry Myron.

After a scenic ride back to the farm, and a great dinner at the "McKee lodge," I said goodbye to Shelby after trying to persuade him to join me for some potential dry fly action before dark. He was eager to get on the road, as the drive to Springfield would be a lengthy one, but I could tell that it would be difficult to leave on such a beautiful evening, and the potential for a great night of fishing. I reminded him that two more hours wouldn't matter much at this point. He reluctantly declined and I headed over the riverbank, fishing upstream from The Falls, with an elk hair caddis tied on the end of my line.

I had been fishing for about ten minutes when I heard splashing behind me. I turned to see my guide wading his way through the water toward me, with his head hung low, as if he didn't have a choice in the matter. He handed me a spool of #5x tippet that he had borrowed during our canoe trip. "You had to go and forget your tippet, didn't you.," he said with a smile. "Let me know if that one works with your wife tonight when you get home. If it does, I believe I'll use it some day," I told him.

We continued to fish until dark. The conditions were perfect, but the fishing was a little slow. We were treated to stoneflies, caddis, and even a blue winged olive or two, but for some reason, the fish were not very interested. I managed to land a small rainbow, but that was it. We waded our way back to the main house in complete darkness, not as client and guide, but as anglers with something in common. The love of flyfishing, and all that goes with it. To us, it was a fantastic night, although the fish were not plentiful. It's the experience that matters. It's being on the river, and enjoying all that is around you. It's making new friends, and gaining new insights. The fish are just a bonus. I think that's why I love coming to the River of Life, and would recommend it to anyone. You get the entire package. Beautiful country, a wonderful river full of trout of all sizes, and hosts that make you feel like you're one of the family.

It was difficult to leave the next morning, after a successful couple of hours at cave riffle. It was shaping up to be another great day, but with a five hour drive ahead of me, and a family that I missed, I knew that I needed to pack up. As I write this report in mid August, I am hoping that I can get to the farm sometime in September or October, as my guide advised me that those are the best times to fish the river. To me, anytime that I get to spend on the river is great. It's just the number and size of the trout that varies. But I believe that I will take his advice.