After breakfast at Braum's I arrived at the power plant parking lot to gave upon my day to come. The water was still and dark. Rock islands rose up from the river bottom in the still of the slack current. I always think of Mordor when I look down on the slack river.
I made a few half-hearted casts, watched the gathered anglers on the Oklahoma side as they angled in vain. Gray arrived in a bit. We chose to wet wade, went on in and started fishing away. Soon we were visited by a shoal of rude buffalo and carp who made rude fin gestures as they snubbed our flies. It only took a small more quantity of time before I mentioned to Gray that the Blue River was only a bit over fifty miles more north. After brief consultation with his wife Gray and I were off to the Blue!
A stop in Caddo OK for fuel and a bit of food at the DQ where a young man in the employ of Dairy Queen roamed the dining room with a fly swatter. not the sort of thing you see in the greater Dallas area. But DQ food continues to rock and, when in Rome....
We pulled up to the Blue River Public Hunting and Fishing Area. I still find the placement of hunting before fishing as interesting. Deer hunting with a shotgun is permitted in season. I suppose other hunting is as well. Thank goodness it's shotguns with pellets only. Rifles in those woods is ballistically creepy.
We started in below the low water crossing, testing the wading, which was a bit OK. Gray got into a chubby spotted bass and sighted two very large bass that didn't stay to play.
This is an image of what the pool below Hughes Crossing looks like. Although I don't know who that is in the photo.
After a bit we pulled off of the pool and started working our way upstream from the crossing. We found no bite and I was starting to labor against a desire to bug out. I run into that wall every so often and have to fight it. Although I maintain that it was right to ditch the Red, especially in hindsight.
Gray took off in another direction and I carried on with fishing where I was. Not too awful long afterward he came back with whisper to follow. We pushed and whacked our way through bloodweed and undergrowth along with overgrowth and assorted dense foliage. Finally we came out upon a new section of river we'd not seen. We fished our way upstream with no real success. There were a good number of follow fish, the ones that follow your fly all the way back but in the end veer off with no commit to the sport.
Then we saw a cut that went back into the weeds and trees. There was an ever-so- slight flow, a trickle really. Across the cut was a huge old pine tree that had fallen recently enough that there were still needles growing. I don't know if fallen pines can last over several seasons or not. Going over appeared to be a hassle and Gray elected to take the under-route joking about when the treewa sdue to collapse. I pondered both routes before choosing to go over the top. Oncce across we had a short walk to the other end of the cut through what was an island in the river. We came out on a pool immediately above the falls nearest the low water crossing. And here it began....
Gray put on a yellow Turck's Tarantula Shortly he was pulling in chubby little spotted bass right and left. Their buddies were chasing their hooked bretheren all the way to the angler's hand. Crystal clear water, beautiful and brightly colored river bank. What a day this suddenly became! I tied on a chartreuse foam spider and soon was into it as well. A feisty bluegill who was big enough to run with the basses. Then several rock bass. Fighters that made me think "bass" all the way to the hand.
Then Gray let out a whoop and began his battle in earnest. He'd lost his Tarantula and had tied on a big black nymph pattern. The fish fought ferociously and when he got her to hand was almost speechless. I know I was! This was the first smallmouth I'd ever seen in the wild and per Gray, the most exciting fish he'd ever caught, tarpon included.
Lest any question the photograph as "staged" please notice Gray's quite proportional hand holding the fish's lip.
We caught a few more, moved on and then it got too hot and too late so we wimped, caved and headed for home instead of setting up an impromptu riverside camp and waiting til dawn to go again.
Aside from the obvious thrill of the fast and furious fishing there were several other moments that set in my mind as memorable. At one point I had to tie on a new fly. Standing there with my reel seat under my arm, I dropped the fly in the water and prepared to pick up and start fishing again. About that time a tiny spotted bass, around the length of less than my hand, boldly and savagely dashed up and tried to eat that fly as it sat in the water not five inches from my leg. Now that was an LOL.
My casting pleased me. Very much so. I was laying out casts that put the spider right up on the bank where it got hammered. That was a vast improvement over past attempts at fly placement. That in and of itself was a worthwhile and satisfying experience. I need to thank and acknowledge all those who have either inspired or coached me over the years. Al Crise and Steve Hollensed - Al has been at many area events and given innumerable presentations on casting, all of which were eye-openers. Steve has been the co-speaker and casting demonstrator at some recent Red River Fly Fishers events at Eisenhower State Park. It's been one epiphany after another.
Don Davis - Don has been my fishing buddy and a source of casting advice that has honed my sense of a good cast to higher levels. He has a sense of what makes a rodo a good rod and, oftentimes, how to turn a bad rod into a good one by simple tweaks or line changes. That finer sense has brought me to higher levels of competence.
Long-Haired Dave and Christian Cabal have shown by example that we just need to get out there and fish, and not be too huffy about tackle because it's the sport that it's all about.
I recommend a trip to to the Blue. That river, if you have never been there outside trout season, is worth the trip just to look. Remember that you'll need an annual OK license. A three day won't cut it as you'd then have to buy the annual Blue River passport as well. Might as well spring for the whole loaf I say.
See you on the Blue!
No comments:
Post a Comment