BUFFALO CITY -- Trout started biting as soon as the snow started falling.
The occasion was an annual trout fishing trip I take this time of year with Bill Eldridge of Benton, Ed Kubler of Benton and Rusty Pruitt of Bryant.
We were unsettled because we all wanted to break from tradition, and change is never easy. For years we visited the same lodge and fished the same water the same way. It had gotten stale, but we couldn't agree on a new arrangement.
Eldridge has wanted to do a multi-day float fishing trip on the Buffalo River. There was resistance. It's tough to catch smallmouth bass in streams in cold weather, and frankly, nobody wanted an outing that offers no refuge from the cold.
We considered camping at Norfork Dam and launching our boats at various points on the White and North Fork rivers. For the same reason, that idea evaporated, as well.
The sensible alternative was to rent a cabin.
After considerable debate, we settled on the White-Buffalo Resort. It's on the north shore of the White River a few hundred yards upstream from the mouth of the Buffalo River. It has many different size cabins and an RV campground. We rented a cabin that suited a group of our size. It was cozy and warm, with a fully-equipped kitchen and satellite TV so we could watch the NFL playoffs. The Buffalo City Access is only five minutes away.
After stowing our gear, we launched our boats Saturday evening and fished the long, deep pool between the mouth of the Buffalo River and the area above the public access. Swollen from a period of heavy hydropower generation at Bull Shoals Dam, the river was clogged with coontail moss dislodged by the current that fouls hooks in short order.
That sortie was essentially a shakedown cruise to test and organize our equipment. Eldridge experienced considerable grief from his 9.9-horsepower Mercury four-stroke outboard. It refused to idle and stalled at inopportune times, the most anxious being at the top of the shoal above the mouth of the Buffalo River. We decided it was best to fish well upstream so he could float down to the ramp if necessary.
Sunday dawned heavy, cold and gray, with a heavy breath of snow in the air. We launched our boats and motored upstream to Buffalo Shoal to catch big brown trout in the eddies behind big rocks.
When we arrived at the shoal, Eldridge and Kubler were already anchored behind a big rock fishing Berkley Power Eggs on dropper lines over bottom sinkers.
I got a good bite on a pearl colored Sebile Koolie Minnow, but the line broke before I saw the fish. I don't know what it is about Sebile lures, but I lose an inordinate number of Koolie Minnows and Stick Shadds on breakoffs. I think it has something to do with the oval split ring eye attachment, but it's a problem I don't have with any other lure, including its replacement, a Luck-E-Strike Rick Clunn STX. Pruitt tied on a Rapala stickbait with silver sides and a black back.
After a few casts in the eddies, Pruitt and I decided that our prospects would be better in the deep water well downstream from the rocks.
The wind had sharp teeth, but our layered clothing ground off most of the edge. It was a lot worse on Saturday when I failed to wear headgear. I was ready on Sunday with a thick ski mask and Oakley shades to protect my eyes.
Pruitt, an experienced hand on the White River, wore a neoprene balaclava and Patagonia foul weather gear.
When we reached a good spot in the river, I turned the bow into the current and we pitched out our lures to troll.
That's when the sky opened. Snow flew like feathers from a burst pillow in front of a box fan. The flakes at first were the size of silver dollars, but they got smaller as the volume increased. It made the gray bluffs look even more stark, and it muffled ambient noise such that a hush seemed to fall across the valley. All we heard was the purr of the outboard. Eventually the snow all but obscured the landscape in a near whiteout.
The first fish, a nice rainbow trout, bit almost immediately. Pruitt caught one immediately after, and we hauled them in at a pace that did not abate. We caught a few stocker size rainbows, but most were a little bigger than average.
We did not have as much luck in the turbulent water of the shoals, but it did yield the only brown trout of the trip to Pruitt.
Eldridge and Kubler had similar success. They bounced around from one spot to the next and fished at anchor, but one place was as good as another for them.
We took a two-hour break for lunch and then returned for the afternoon shift. It was still snowing, and the fish bit as well as they did in the morning.
Seeking bigger fish, Pruitt and I speculated that giant trout might be in the deep pool across from the lodge. At sunset, as Eldridge and Kubler trailered their boat, I got a vicious strike in front of the cabins. The fish streaked downstream and reversed the spool with a reedy whine. I raised my rod high to let the fish hook itself. I felt a wobbling sensation, followed by a weightless sensation.
It was over. The fish was gone.
"You only get one chance like that," I said. "Let's call it a day."
Far from disappointed, we were profoundly satisfied. For the accomodations, the weather, the fellowship and the fishing, it was one of our best trips ever.
Sports on 01/21/2018