GLENWOOD -- I don't think I've ever gotten so wet so fast.
It happened Monday while float fishing the Caddo River with Ray Tucker of Little Rock. It was our first trip on the Caddo this year. We tried in May, but it was too low to float. It stayed so low that our usual outfitter, Lucky's Canoe Rental, operated pretty much on call for most of the summer.
Recent rains put the Caddo in prime floating condition Monday. Optimum floating conditions top out at 6.2 feet at the Caddo Gap gauge, but it was at 5.84 and falling when we arrived.
Lucky's rented us a pair of short Old Town canoes, which are now made of a new material that's similar to the Royalex, which is out of production. We put in at the same time as a father and son from Hot Springs. The woman of their life -- their wife and mother -- recently died after a short, but painful, bout with cancer. They were doing a float-fishing tour of Arkansas to begin healing.
To that point, they had only floated relatively tame water. The Caddo River between Caddo Gap and Glenwood is rough and rocky, with several subtle traps that can upend inexperienced paddlers.
"There's really just one place that will knock you for a loop," I said. "It's a brawling S-turn rapid down past the mouth of the South Fork. Stay close to us until you get through in case you get in a bind."
They are large people that fairly filled their canoe, but they got through that crazy S-turn rapid with amazing ease. Their trouble occurred at the end of a small rock garden a few yards from the put in.
Tucker and I were ahead of them and out of sight around a bend when a raft of flotsam approached, including a paddle. It took us about 20 minutes to gather it all, and then we pulled to the bank and waited. The pair did not show.
I paddled back around the bend. The bewildered fellows struggled to drain the water from their boat and were pondering the thought of paddling the rest of the way with one paddle. They couldn't hear me yelling over the roar of the water, so I waved to get their attention. They looked very relieved when I held up their paddle and summoned them down to the next gravel bar.
We recovered every item except the upper half of a two-piece fishing rod.
I reunited with them above the mouth of the South Fork when I pulled over to fish an eddy at the bottom of a short, steep rapid.
I used a Creekside light-action spinning rod with a Mitchell Avocet reel and 6-pound test Sufix line. I cast a Zoom Mini Lizard in watermelon/cotton candy color into the seam between the currents and let it soak. Then I slowly dragged the lizard across the bottom.
I felt a mushy resistance, followed by a gentle tug. I set the hook with a sharp jolt, and then drove home the point with three subsequent jolts. The mushy resistance blossomed into a full-fledged revolt as the fish on the other end surged into the channel.
The current added horsepower to the fish's considerable strength, and I struggled to loosen the drag before the fish snapped my line. It was near the breaking point when the drag finally released, and the spool squealed as the fish streaked downstream.
I tightened it gradually until I gained control over the fish and slowly gained traction.
When I finally turned it back upstream, I felt the familiar void that always reminds me of sitting in a roller-coaster car at the precipice of a steep drop. I braced myself for the inevitable leap, and when it came, it came in flurries. I cheered each time, and my new-found friends arrived in time to witness the final stage of the battle.
It was a bronze-tinted smallmouth bass with dark stripes and mottles, and it measured about 19 inches long. It was my biggest Caddo River smallmouth since February 2010, and I am pleased to say it is still there and quite healthy.
I caught one more that was considerably smaller in that spot, and then the bites evaporated.
The river was too high to fish effectively, but I worked every eddy. I figured it would remain slim when I got just one tiny strike on a Whopper Plopper topwater lure in the rocky pool above the S-turn.
My friends sailed through that rapid at a comfortable and leisurely pace, and I did not see them again.
With so much water churning through it, running the Flag Hole was delightful.
Below the Flag Hole is a big rock that is usually good for a fish or two, but they weren't home that day.
As I worked a Bagley crankbait around the rocks, I felt raindrops. Naturally, my rain gear was in the truck.
Without warning, the clouds unleashed their contents upon the river, and my first thought was that it should make the fish start biting.
A fierce wind blew me upstream faster than the current previously carried me down. I continued trying to fish when it finally dawned on me that my priorities were out of order.
I got as far out of the wind as I could, rounded the corner into a sheltered run and entered a long, unbroken stretch of rapids that took me to the final pool.
In the distance, a canoe materialized from the bank. Its pilot was bedecked in rain gear. It was Tucker, whom I hadn't seen in more than an hour. He was comfortable, warm and dry.
We had a good laugh about it as we beached the boats and carried our gear to the truck.
We were already discussing possible destinations for our next trip.
Sports on 09/30/2018