Day 2
While my dad and I both had our alarms set for 6:00 to meet our
guide at 7:30, both of us were awake before the wake-up call. I don't
know why he was awake so early, but I was awake because I felt like a kid on
Christmas morning. I had been waiting for this opportunity for a long
time and my hopes and optimism were through the roof.
We bundled up and caffeinated up for our long day on the water.
The high temperature was supposed to be in the lower 40's but our morning
started off in the upper 20's. So with multiple layers and ready to fish
the White River for the first time together, we headed down the boat ramp at
Gaston's Resort where we saw a guy that appeared to be getting a boat ready for an
outing. His name was Pete (of Cranor's Guide Service)and he was our guide for the day.
Pete informed us that water was being generated at the dam
upstream and that we needed to get downstream to beat the rising water.
He said that the water would be lower, clearer, and we would encounter
less debris in the water which would have given our bait a hassle. He let
us know that would be bouncing on the bottom and drifting bait. The bait
we started with was shrimp but over the course of the day, we used Powerbait
and other scented artificial baits. This was a technique that my dad and
I were familiar with as it is a common tactic that is used on Lake Taneycomo
when water is being generated.
As the morning went on, we both picked up rainbows here and there.
Most of them were stockers with my dad catching one exception that was
probably 15 inches. We both missed fish, landed a few, and kept a few for
my dad's buddies back home. Truth be told, I don't eat fish. I
don't care for the taste. If they tasted like t-bones, I would be fishing
for a limit every time out but they don't so I don't.
As we inched closer to lunch, something started to dawn on me and
it wasn't a good feeling. At the start of the day, I was thinking that
the shrimp technique made sense because browns are meat eaters and maybe this
was the method to catch browns on the White. However, after catching
nothing but rainbows, I started to worry about the possibility that maybe I had
made a horrible mistake. Maybe I hadn't let Pete know that we wanted to
go after browns. Maybe he thought that we just wanted to catch as many
fish as possible. Maybe my poor communication was going to turn into a
day of stocker rainbows that my dad and I have managed to do on our own for
years without the help of a guide. My heart started to sink. I started
to feel like this trip was going to be a waste. I didn't want this to
happen but didn't want to be a rude jerk by letting Pete know that I wanted to
go after browns. I was stuck in a bad place and didn't know how to get
out of it.
At lunch, I discussed the matter with my dad. He felt the
same way and thought we should say something to Pete about going after browns.
However, before we could say a single word, Pete addressed the matter.
He told us that the water had been shut off up at the dam and that the
water would be dropping soon. He said that with the conditions the way
they were in the morning, the technique we were using was about all we could
do. I let him know that I would LOVE to go after some big browns if it
was possible and he informed me that the conditions were now right to do just
that. I COULDN'T BELIEVE IT! There was no mistake or
miscommunication! There was just bad conditions that had just improved.
To me, this was the point when the day really started. My hope was
renewed and my optimism was increasing quickly.
We had drifted about 16 miles over the course of the morning and
had a long run upstream. While it was around 35 degrees, we would now
have the wind (and snow that had started falling) in our faces. It
actually wasn't too bad if you bundled up your hands and face and we saw some
cool stuff on our run. We saw some bald eagles, a blue heron grab and eat
a trout, and an otter that was screwing around on the bank. About 20-30
minutes later, we arrived at another one of Pete's boats where he kept his
sculpin bait.
Pete said that he catches his own sculpin that he uses to target
browns. He also gave my dad and I an education on sculpin behavior.
He told us that they were able to change their skin color like a
chameleon, and could blend in with their environments. This made sense
because they had to do something to survive and remain a part of the ecosystem.
Pete grabbed a few sculpin that he carefully selected (not sure about the
criteria) and we were on our way again.
As we approached a bend in the river, he dropped the anchor.
I have to admit, it seemed like a pretty unassuming spot. I didn't
think it looked any different than the rest of the river, but then again, I had
only spent 6 hours on the river whereas Pete had logged 37 years. I just
assumed Pete knew what he was doing. He did.
As he prepped the bait and was about ready to put a hook through a
sculpin, I noticed that he skinned it first. This got my attention and my
curiosity got the better of me so I had to ask, what was up with the skinning
process. Pete reminded me of the sculpin defense mechanism of camouflage
and said that we needed fish to see the bait. No skin = no camo.
I'm not sure why that wasn't more obvious to me. I chalk it up to
frozen brain cells but hey, I was starting to get feeling back in my toes
again...which was nice.
So there we were; rigged up, baited up, and anchored up.
Pete told me to try to cast to a particular spot near the bank. He
said that my bait would bounce along the bottom in a similar manner to how we
had fished earlier in the day and to be ready to feel the weight bouncing along
the rocks. He said that if the bouncing stopped that I could be hung up
on some moss or I might have a bite. He said to gently lift the rod tip
up and see if I felt something pull back. He also said that if I didn't
feel anything, to lower to rod tip back down and see if the weight started to
bounce along the bottom again. He said if it didn't resume its bouncing
activity, then I might have a fish on.
Now I'm not going to lie, my adrenaline was pumping. This was
what we came for. This was what I had waited over a year for. This
was what we froze for. The place was here and the time was now. I
double checked to make sure that I was preparing to cast to the right spot and
made my heave. I felt a bounce, felt a bounce, felt a bounce, and then
didn't feel a bounce. Pete asked me if the bouncing stopped and I said
yes. He told me to raise my rod tip to see what I could feel. I
felt nothing. He told me to lower the rod tip back down to feel for
bouncing. I did not. Then he calmly told me to go ahead and set the
hook. That all happened in about 5-6 seconds. I set the hook and
felt something similar to lightning surging up the line and heard the sound of
singing drag. Pete said, "There's a brown." YOU DARN
RIGHT THERE WAS A BROWN!
The power of the fish was incredible and to be hooked up with what
I knew was a nice brown was a feeling unlike any other. After a few
minutes passed, I got the fish up to the boat and Pete netted the beast.
It was a beautiful fish and I was thrilled to land my first White River
brown trout. My next thought went to the tale of the tape. I wanted
to know if I had achieved my goal of my biggest brown trout ever. The
fish measured about 19-19 and 1/2 inches and aside from being my longest brown,
this fish was beautiful. The browns, the yellows, the black spots, and
red spots, the halos...all of it was beautiful. After some pictures and
measurements, we got the girl (no kype jaw) back in the water and watched her
successfully swim off. I had almost forgot that there was still time to
fish when Pete said, "Throw back out there and try to catch big
brother." He rigged me up again and told me to cast to the same
spot. Again, I was suspicious of this because I thought the fight would
have spooked everything within 50 square yards but again, my now 6 hours of
fishing prowess on the White was still slightly less than Pete's 37 years.
I cast back to the same spot.
The
next fish did NOT bite in the first 5 seconds.
The second fish took about thirty seconds to hook. The bite came in pretty much the same way and
the fight was similar. It peeled some
drag, gave some violent head shakes, and wasn’t thrilled about coming close to
the boat. It turned out to be about 20
inches long and was every bit as beautiful as the first fish. I had just caught the biggest brown of my
life…again.
Now
at this point, I didn’t think catching anything bigger was likely or even
possible this late in the day. We only
had about an hour left to fish and I had already accomplished what I
wanted. To be honest, I had kind of let
my guard down and started to relax. My
adrenaline rush was starting to subside and now I was just fishing for pure
enjoyment. We didn’t catch any more fish
in this particular spot so Pete let the boat drift a little ways to fish a
little further downstream. I was
casting, bouncing, having pauses in bounces, and bouncing again. Again, I really wasn’t expecting to catch
anything else. So guess what happened?
I
was bouncing along the bottom with my bait when it paused. I wasn’t sure if it was hung up on moss or
had a bite but lowered the rod tip and didn’t feel any further bouncing. I set the hook and it happened with the
subtleness of a broken shoelace. This
fish took off like a shot downstream.
This fish had a nastier attitude and peeled more drag than the other
fish. I started to wonder if this fish
was bigger but predicted that it just had a tougher mean streak. As I slowly fought it closer to the boat,
Pete and I finally got a look at it. It
looked like a similar sized fish that was in the 20 inch range. I was still dumbfounded by the fishery and in
awe of a similar fish. Then Pete got the
fish in the net. This was NOT a similar
sized fish.
Pete
commented that we had only seen the back and profile of the fish from above and
couldn’t see the girth and boy did it have some girth. When it rolled over in the net, this fish was
A LOT thicker than the other fish. A
LOT thicker. I immediately knew that
this was the biggest brown I had ever caught and I knew it was a nice fish when
Pete got out the digital scale and moved around the boat a little faster than
he had the rest of the day.
He
said that the fish weighed in around 5 pounds and I think I might have squealed
like a little girl at that point. To me,
this was a true trophy and the fish of a lifetime. We took a few pictures and checked the length
which came out to be 24 inches. Pete
also estimated the girth to be about 16 inches and told me to put the fish in
the net but to not let it go. I noticed
that he was doing something with the scale and asked to see the fish
again. He told me that the scale had
accidentally been set to measure in kilograms and that he had fixed the
problem. He put the fish on the scale
again and he asked me what I thought of the new measurement. 6 pounds, one ounce sounded like a heck of a
big deal to me. Pete got the fish in the
water, got some water rushing through its gills and off it swam. It all happened so fast that it didn’t really
sink in but it slowly crept into my conscious and good gracious did it feel
good. I had caught a true trophy brown (as
defined by the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission) on the White River on my
first trip and could not have even imagined that was possible. I am incredibly grateful for my dad, Pete,
and of course the good Lord making this entire, amazing event possible. I’m a lucky guy and that fact is NOT lost on
me, nor is my gratitude towards those that were so gracious with their time and
efforts.
With about 15 minutes left to fish before our
time was up with Pete, he baited me up again and I cast out. I didn’t get any hits after a few casts so
Pete pulled the anchor again and we drift a little further downstream. On my
second cast, a fourth bite came and why wouldn’t I have another bite? This was the White River after all and this
was becoming commonplace. This fish was
a fighter as well and just as beautiful as the others. She checked in at 19 inches and was
successfully released like the other three browns. 
With a small ride left to the boat ramp and our time up, this was the last fish for the day. Now it is rare for me to feel ready for the end of a fishing day, but what more could I have asked for and what more was there to do? I felt fulfilled and satisfied. Truth be told, I was looking forward to warming up a little and feeling my toes again as well as look at the pictures and video because it felt like I had just lived a dream.
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