DEGRAY LAKE - J.O. Brooks wanted a rematch.
Fishing was decent the last time we visited DeGray Lake last month, but it wasn't up to his high standards. It galled him that the fish started biting when it was time to leave, so we couldn't enjoy the fruits of our patience.
When Brooks offered a rematch on Tuesday, I eagerly accepted, knowing full well that the heat and and stalled barometer would make fishing even more challenging.
Brooks, as they say, is living the dream. He's well into his 80s, but he fishes every day, usually at DeGray despite the long commute from his home in Little Rock.
"When I leave, I can't hardly wait to get out here again," Brooks said.
Catching white bass/striped bass hybrids is his passion, and he is disgruntled with the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission for decreasing the number of hybrids it stocks in DeGray, an impoundment of the Caddo River between Bismarck and Arkadelphia.
"They've knocked it down to 40,000 the amount of hybrids they stock," Brooks grumbled. "That ain't enough to stock Brushy Creek!"
Our first stop was a cove a short distance from the boat ramp. Only one other boat was present, and it had been there since before dawn.
"They're not biting yet," its captain said. "Yesterday they didn't start biting until about 7:20 (a.m.)."
"I think that full moon's got them all messed up," Brooks responded. "They're probably feeding all night and staying deep in the daylight."
Usually there's a flurry of activity at dawn when black bass, white bass and hybrids force shad to the surface for a quick breakfast, but that didn't happen Tuesday. Brooks, as usual, was too impatient to wait.
"I got plenty of other traps to run," he said. "We'll hit them all until we find out where they're biting."
They weren't biting at the second place either, so he motored around a bend to his third spot. Half a dozen other boats were already there, and fish were hitting the surface. Darryl Morris, a guide with Family Fishing Trips, had clients in his boat. There was also a big War Eagle with a graph the size of a small high definition television mounted on the gunnel.
"I'll be J.O. knows every one of these people," said Rusty Pruitt of Bryant, who joined us to wet a line before work. In his previous life as a commercial lender in Mountain Home, Bryant was locally famous for his early morning "lightning strikes" on the White and North Fork rivers. He carried his waders and fly rig in his car, and he fished for an hour or so in a dress shirt and necktie.
Indeed, Brooks trolled past the flotilla and greeted each captain by name. He asked one fellow why he had been absent for a couple of days. He encouraged the young grandson of another angler and then trolled to a station a respectable distance away.
Big fish were hitting the surface, but they weren't hybrids. They were spotted gar.
"One thing about gar is you always find them with hybrids and whites," Brooks said. "They're big buddies. By God's design, white bass and hybrids overkill when they bust into a school of shad. They get what they get, but there's dead shad and parts of shad all over the place. Gar and catfish are like the cleanup crew."
As usual, we threw 2-ounce spoons with custom yellow and white paint jobs. Brooks's reel howled like a siren with each cast.
"J.O., I don't think your reel likes that big ol' spoon," I said. "It's saying, 'Stop it! Please stop it! I can't take it anymore!'"
Brooks chuckled and said, "I've had this thing apart I don't know how many times, and I can't find what's wrong with it."
"I'll tell you what's wrong with it. It's like trying to pull down a old oak tree with an ATV winch. You're wearing it out!"
Finally the reel rebelled and presented Brooks an incurable backlash. It was done for the day, but Brooks had a dozen more in the bullpen.
My reel of choice for the morning was a 22-year old Quantum Iron baitcaster, one of the first left-handed retrieve reels made. On our last trip it wouldn't cast 30 feet. I disassembled it as soon as I got home and cleaned it thoroughly. I scrubbed until its guts gleamed, and then I applied a light coat of Penn Reel Grease where appropriate, and applied light beads of Penn Reel Oil on the bearings. Now it casts to the horizon.
"You'd be amazed how much grit and gunk accumulates in a reel over 22 years," I said.
"I reckon it does," Brooks said, chuckling.
While hybrids stayed in port, we managed to assemble a fair number of good-size white bass in Brooks's cooler. We caught them here and there, one and two at a time. Brooks caught two hybrids, and Pruitt hooked one, which he lost when his rod tangled with Brooks's spoon.
At about 9 a.m., Brooks announced that the trip was over. When Brooks is ready to quit, you can rest assured that there's no reason to stay a minute longer.
The fish won that round, but they don't hide from Brooks for too long. Rematch III should be a doozy.
Sports on 07/01/2018