Bon voyage

ROCKHOUSE - Just ahead on the Kings River was arguably the most scenic spot along the 16 miles between Marshall Ford and Rockhouse.

Featuring a long, high bluff overhanging a bend in the river across from a tree-shaded gravel bar, the setting had always provoked a pause during a half-dozen previous float trips.

The pauses had been brief, allowing only enough time for a few photos or a quick lunch break. Such is the case with most paddling and float fishing outings on Ozark streams - one has to keep moving to finish in four to eight hours.

Things were different last weekend.

As Drew Daniel of Centerton and a guest floated up to the bluff and around the bend in his 18-foot aluminum drift boat, we beheld the gravel bar lined with more than a dozen canoes being unloaded by a group setting up camp for the night.

The gathering included brothers Tim McClung of Rogers and Sonny McClung of Eureka Springs, who were leading a dozen good friends on a seventh annual three-day float trip.

Representing the younger generation of a family well known in real estate and banking businesses in Northwest Arkansas, the brothers were carrying on a tradition of extended floats that were quite popular from the 1940s to the 1960s.

An entire issue of Life magazine in the 1940s, for example, was devoted to traditional float trips on the Buffalo and White rivers. The issue included numerous black-and-white photos of folks camping on gravel bars with wooden, flat-bottom drift boats beached nearby, big canvas tents set in the shade, fire rings surrounded by pots and pans, and men, women and children eating, swimming and fishing,

The tradition waned after the building of the big lakes and many shore-side parks along the White River and its tributaries, but the McClungs and their band of brothers are among a few younger groups keeping it alive.

They had dubbed their group the Pirates of the Kings River, but it would soon become clear they considered themselves to be friendly Jolly Rogers more than plunderers of the river's natural resources. They would keep only a few goggleye, leave no trace at their campsites and transport all their trash to the end.

It was a privilege to be invited on the float, and the Marshall Ford-to-Rockhouse section seemed ideal for getting reacquainted with the river. I had floated the stretch six weeks ago in the aftermath of a 35-foot rise, but the river had since experienced a 30-foot rise in early April and a 20-foot rise later that month.

Contacted Friday morning, Ernie Kilman with Kings River Outfitters at Trigger Gap cautioned about the river being decidedly different from what I had seen after the March rise.

"That first rise blew the river open of logs, trees and low-hanging limbs, but the next two put a lot of new trees and root wads back in the river, and they're the problem. I've already had six of my canoes pinned between Rockhouse and Trigger Gap, and at least three private canoes have been destroyed and are still down there," Kilman said.

On the other hand, he noted the river flow would be excellent for the float and the water would be clear enough for fishing. Naturally, fishing for smallmouth bass was of major interest.

CONVIVIAL FLOATING

After a fast-moving line of violent thunderstorms blew through early Friday morning to leave sunny skies in its wake, most of the day was consumed with the daunting logistics of an extended float.

It was early afternoon by the time we reached the Marshall Ford access at the remnant of the old low-water bridge. Boulders blocking the beginning of what was left of the bridge required the 12 canoes and two drift boats to be hand-carried to the water's edge.

The same applied to what seemed like two tons of camping gear and supplies that had to be unloaded and distributed among the boats. With the number of canoes matching the paddlers present, it became clear the group intended to go downriver as solo paddlers. One reason may have been because the canoes were too full of gear to hold more than one person.

While the distribution of gear was being accomplished with jovial spirit, I took note of the musical instruments being loaded and the oddity of bowfishing gear in one canoe.

It was a relief at midafternoon to put the workaday world behind us to enjoy the flow of the milkygreen currents and the river's quiet surroundings.

Daniel and I got right to fishing for smallmouths, along with several other serious fishermen who included Tim McClung and Jeremy George of Blue Eye, Mo.

The main interest of the rest of the group was simple relaxation. With their canoes rafted up gunwale to gunwale, they were content to lie back and slowly drift along, separating only to negotiate tighter runs of the riffles and bends.

As we had been warned, intruding trees laid down by the recent rises had made many of the tight spots much tighter and more hazardous.

Approaching one narrow, white-water run where a downed tree nearly blocked the channel, we watched a red canoe hit the tree broadside and immediately get rolled under. Bill Evans of Bella Vista slammed hard against the tree but was able to leap from his swamped canoe to prevent it from being pinned.

The red canoe was soon recovered along with all the gear that had floated downstream.

Thereafter, caution was the rule when dealing with encroaching trees and root wads. Hearkening to the safety-first rule of "walk around, don't drown," Daniel would regularly dismount to walk his boat through the most hazardous spots, and many of the other paddlers would follow suit, allowing the float to be completed without further turnovers.

The fishing, unfortunately, was slow, with only a half-dozen small smallmouth bass and few goggleye caught among all the anglers.

Arriving at the beautiful campsite on the gravel bar, we found the group in a festive mood, busily engaged in arranging their sleeping spots, setting up chairs and tables and firing up camp stoves, grills and piles of charcoal.

Different hearty meals were soon being prepared by competitive cooks, including George Purvis of Eureka Springs and Will Gladden of Fayetteville, who teamed to put on a show of Dutch-oven cooking while preparing a stew that included chicken, potatoes, bacon and cheese.

The highlight of camp festivities came when Tim McClung and George pulled out a guitar and a mandolin to begin a picking-and-singing concert that lasted through sunset and continued around a communal campfire until nearly midnight.

Both men had appeared at major country music concerts and had jammed with the likes Ricky Skaggs and the Dixie Chicks, and it showed in the quality of their playing and singing. Bruce "Crusty" Capps of Eureka Springs soon joined in to keep time with the beat by knocking two river rocks together; he even did a rock-knocking solo.

They played and sang country and folk classics, sad songs and funny songs and improvisations poking fun at one member of the group or another. Appropriate to the river setting was a rendition of "Dueling Banjos," but most fitting for the evening was a song with the refrain of "sitting on top of the world."

COMPLICATIONS AND COMEBACKS

After bedding down under the stars, we awoke to clouds scudding overhead, a cold wind blowing and the river having risen about 10 inches and become muddy from rainfall far upstream.

The change was terribly discouraging for fishing prospects, but the "pirates" didn't seem to mind, turning breakfasting and breaking camp into a three-hour affair.

Setting out under clearing skies at midmorning, we were soon reminded why the six miles of river below Marshall Ford is considered the most scenic along the entire river.

The group was content to drift slowly to take in the views of striking bluffs and rock formations one after another. Daniel and I tried fishing but had no success whatsoever.

After a boisterous two-hour lunch break and nap time, we had reached the point where the river began to widen to feature long pools and shallow gravel riffles.

Many of the downed trees from this area down to Rockhouse tended to show green leaves, indicating they had survived the March rise but not the April floods.

Some of the largest trees that would have completely blocked the channel showed fresh evidence of having their large, protruding branches cut back with chain saws carried by paddlers floating ahead of us. Fortunately, we wouldn't need the chain saw the group was carrying.

Although the river had cleared enough to be marginally fishable, we caught only a couple of little smallmouths, causing us to wonder if the floods had flushed the fish from the river.

The most fortunate fisherman of the day was Purvis, who used his bowfishing gear to put an arrow through a 3-foot gar that he was later seen cleaning for the evening cookout.

The evening campsite was a great one - on a level gravel bar across from a bluff where a waterfall was spilling to provide background "water music." After tents were set up at sundown, the agenda was a repeat of the previous night, with the preparation of gourmet meals and a campfire concert.

The best was yet to be when Sunday dawned as a perfect spring day with clear skies, warm sun and the river flowing clear and sparkling.

The group appeared to be a bit reluctant to break camp andstart downriver for the conclusion of the float, but Daniel and I, along with Capps and George, were on the river and fishing as soon as possible.

It was a good thing, too, because the smallmouths showed they had weathered the floods and were finally in a biting mood.

The seven miles or so of river above Rockhouse features an excellent variety of fishing terrain that includes chunk-rock runs, deep holes with eddies and medium-length pools with slow current flowing against boulders and ledges.

The flow on Sunday was still a bit too swift to fish the runs, but we found plenty of smallmouths in the pools, especially those with slow current.

Casting tubes, we soon learned the best presentation was to cast upstream and let the lures bounce slowly along the bottom. Often, just dragging the lures in a slow, trolling fashion did the trick.

With goggleye adding to the action, the bite stayed steady throughout the warm and sunny day, allowing us to catch nearly 50 smallmouths.

Most of the brownies measured 10-12 inches, the largest ones going 14-16 inches. All were healthy and fought hard. Some of the females with swollen bellies appeared close to spawning.

"In a couple of weeks when the water is about a foot lower and a few degrees warmer, it's going to be prime time to catch the big ones," Daniel assured us.

The gathering of the group at the Rockhouse Access was a bittersweet affair. They regretted the end of the enjoyable float, but were already talking expectantly about continuing the tradition next spring.

The big surprise for me was being invited back.