Look at you; back again with your mint Zebco 33 combo in hand, ready to learn more about Lake Taneycomo and be regaled with tales of my daughter’s first attempt at mastering Oncorhynchus mykiss-otherwise known as the rainbow trout. Or maybe we will have a date with Salmo trutta, aka the brown trout. Administrative note, we’ll be sticking with the common names. A thermometer doesn’t have enough degrees to attempt pronunciation of Oncorhynchus mykiss. And worse, it sounds really dumb when you try. Just ask my neighbor here at work. I am pretty sure I was just written up for witchcraft.
Salmo trutta sounds like a low level hit man from the Corleone family. So we’ll also be sticking wi…Nope, this just in from the home office, we will officially be referring to the brown trout as Salmo Trutta and only Salmo Trutta from here on out. Salmo Trutta, Salmo Trutta, I just love the way it looks and sounds in my head.
If you find yourself late to the game, I personally invite you to peruse part 1 & 2.
Alright, thankfully the family has been playing some pretty serious Tetris this past six months, because packing the family truckster severely tested those skills. Unable to see out the back window and one mirror, we set off on the 4 hour trip from St. Louis to Lilley’s Landing in Branson, MO.
Sidenote: Since the Show Me Fly Guy is from the Kansas City area, I assume that most of the regular readers here (the Norms and Cliffs, if you will and I just did) are also from the KC area. I want to let it be known that I am not a baseball fan. I do have to entertain clients from time to time at Cardinals games, but I would prefer to gouge my eyes out with rusty treble hooks. Hard to be a football fan in STL right now, however I did once own an Elvis Grbac jersey with #19 rather than #11. I am pretty sure I gave it away. If I do find it, pics will be posted.
So we shoved off from the homestead with hope in our hearts. It’d been awhile since we went on vacation and I was getting pretty amped to share the pain and agony of fishing Taneycomo with my daughter. We’d had her down to Branson before but stayed on Table Rock. She was only about 3 then and I didn’t think she was ready. Truthfully I wasn’t ready to take her. We’ve fished a few times and she’s done pretty well. I learned she is an angler like her old man-a fish caught with no help and my way is better than 10 caught with someone standing over your shoulder. She’s a natural independent. Some day she will learn all that comes with that, too.
On the way down, we listened to a book on tape, “Bear in the Backseat” about a retired Smokey Mountain National Park Ranger’s 30+year career. Great book, highly recommended, and shortened the drive tremendously. Sidenote: Would anyone be interested in a book list/discussion group? I try to read super manly things about war and stuff. Always looking for recommendations, post in the comments if interested.
We pulled in to Lilley’s Landing Resort and Marina around 3, after roughly ten too many stops. Growing up, my dad always timed the trip using the analog clock on our Delta 88. He’d get visibly excited when we were closing in on a record. I think we were always on pace for a record and I can recall numerous times when either me or one of my two sisters asked for bathroom break. I learned about the five stages of grief because of this very question.
I’d write more about the drive, but I am pretty sure that the documentary, National Lampoons Vacation covers the material just as well. If you haven’t seen it, please click away from this article immediately (then click back to this site, we need the views, do it several times, from different computers if you have the means.)
As I have mentioned earlier, we’ve stayed at Lilleys Landing since even before it was called Lilley’s Landing. I love this place, though I am not sure exactly why. I guess it’s just not too fancy and they have everything you need. Except they did get rid of the soda fountain machine. So almost everything I need and totally not cool at all on the soda fountain decision. The rooms are fine, however I am probably not the best person to judge rooms or food. I don’t go on vacation to hang out in a room or eat, so among all the other things I am terrible at, add hotel and restaurant critic to the list. Here’s a secret, you can sit on a couch, watch tv, and eat whatever you want at home. Really, you can. On vacation, you should be doing. End soapbox.
The nerves began to hit me a little once we settled in the room. I always get a little nervous and excited before getting down to the business of fishing, hunting, or anything outdoors. I like Nature – I like that I can’t control or predict it and whether I can or not is no longer a question. I’ve come to believe Nature is much more black and white than civilization. And when it comes to fishing, every time I close my eyes to sleep, immediately visions of Salmo Trutta on the end of my line, rod straining under the pressure, and old Salmo projecting itself from the water like a Cruise missile. SO I usually don’t get much sleep, just too excited.
Of course, a 7 year old does not have that understanding of Nature and fishing. I am all for the naiveté of said 7 year old, especially one who still thinks her dad is a hero and can do anything. But the psi on those expectations does add a little stress for me. Especially, since I am intimately familiar with my shortcomings in the hero and knowledge departments. Let’s just say the cupboards aren’t bare, but they ain’t getting any fuller. So here we are, unloaded and ready to hook and land my daughter’s first trout.
Of course, not quite ready, the first thing every angler must do is head to the local fly shop, find out what’s working, where, and when. This always involves spending money and justifying to the wife that you have to match the hatch. When the kid’s involved, it’s a much easier sell. Just drop, “what is the cost of your child’s happiness” and you can buy half the place. Lilley’s has a great little fly shop, packed to the gills with just about anything you would ever need to catch fish from trout to blue Marlin. They also update a chalkboard frequently with what’s currently working. I always view this board with a truckload of trepidation. I’ve put way too much stock in it over the years and it immediately sets the tone for whether or not I am going to be successful on the trip. It’s the wrong way to approach this, but I’ve tried nothing else and I am all out of ideas. So I catch the board out of the corner of my eye, but will not directly look into it. Kinda like viewing an eclipse, it’s going to be awesome or burn your retinas. (though I am pretty sure an eclipse will both be awesome and burn your retinas, not really an either/or situation. However, I am not scientist). So I meandered around, perusing the wares, and finally looked at it. Uh oh, the number one bait was – nightcrawlers. This is a never a good sign. Two was pink and white power bait – not great. Third was… hope. Well it was really something called a Trout Magnet. I have never heard of a Trout Magnet and thought that maybe the trout were eating their Wheaties. Get it? The iron in Wheaties would be attracted to a magnet? Is this thing on?
(Sidenote: Taneycomo is a cold water riverlake. When the cold air near the water meets the warm air of July, there is fog. So it is always foggy. The other joke about Taneycomo is “Hey, the lake’s on fire”. Or some variation. You will always hear this joke and you will always laugh in that - I am not really amused, but I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings kinda way)
But since I had never heard of the Trout Magnet, it did represent hope in many ways. With a glimmer in my eye, I said, “my good man, where perchance are these Trout Magnets?” I was pointed in the direction of these mythical lures that will save me from utter humiliation and defeat. Now, I am not typical in my purchase habits when it comes to fishing. Or maybe I am typical. Anyway, I know many fishermen who buy every color, size, weight, glitter content, heft, length, scent, unscent, hook gauge, personality, rattle, vibration profile, depth speed, drop rate, cast velocity, etc. I usually buy two – Same size, different colors. Well, not so much with the Trout Magnet since I just bought pink and slightly less pink.
Now I’ve spent a lot of time telling you about the Trout Magnet and you’re thinking, “Man, this guy is one heck of a writer, he is using foreshadowing and I bet this lure is what this random guy from the internet used to help land his daughter’s first fish”. To which I will respond- 1. Thank you. 2. I used the lure three times and only go into such detail as to explain that something new and unknown always gives hope, at least to me.
Of course, my dad forgot his tackle box, and thus my plan to borrow all of my dad’s PowerBait, hooks, sinkers, etc. was foiled. So I had to pick up some hooks, sinkers, PowerBait, nightcrawlers (of course). Earlier I wrote that Nightcrawlers was a bad sign at Taneycomo. I am not really sure if there is any data to back it up, but it always seems that when ‘crawlers are the only thing working, fishing is tough. I am most definitely not one of these Anti-‘crawler, honor the fish by catching them using only flies with materials you personally harvested and tied on to hooks you forged (like some other people you may or may not be familiar with). In fact, I believe that the first Native American who tied a ‘crawler on skipped chief and was nominated straight to demi-god.
Alright, alright we’re getting there. You’ve stayed with me this long and you can make it to the end. Just grit your teeth and we’ll get through it together.
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