Fishing in Wichita, Kansas, of All Places!

Wendy and I spent last weekend in Wichita, Kansas.  Her son Collin had a basketball tournament there and we stayed in a hotel right on the banks for the Arkansas River.  Seeing as how we were so close to water, I felt compelled to bring a fly rod along.  While doing a little research on the Arkansas River, I found that it is a smaller version of the Missouri River in the sense that it was home to gar, carp, and catfish primarily.  Sure, there are probably largemough, bluegill, white bass, and walleye in there as well but for the most part, I knew it was going to fishing for rough fish in muddy water.  However, this was not without a couple of positives.  First off, it was better than no fishing at all.  Second, it would give me a chance to chase that elusive gar that I have been chasing for a while now.  

I fished Saturday and Sunday mornings.  Saturday was sunny and hot.  Sunday was cloudy and cooler.  While I saw more activity on Sunday, Saturday proved to be more eventful.  I fished along man-made walls and bridge pillars with no luck.  The last spot that I hit was a small man-made eddy that seemed to offer some refuge to fish with less current.  It seemed like a good ambush spot for gar so I hit this spot really hard.  I fished a flashy, size 6, olive wooly.  I figured a dark fly in dark water was my best approach.  I also believed that everything in that river probably ate small, slow-moving minnows.  My experiment actually provided a strike.  

That small blip is me.  Wendy took this picture from the hotel room.

While I wasn't completely focused on my fly, I did notice the hit and set the hook fairly hard.  While my first instinct was to check if I was snagged, my line started moving parallel to the bank so I knew I had a fish on.  I also knew it was a decent sized fish because when I set the hook, the fish didn't move much.  The excitement began to build when the wonder of what species of fish I had hooked raced through my mind.  It took about three seconds for that question to be answered.  The long, silver body and long mouth of a gar broke the surface with violent thrashes.  The fish stopped just short of tail walking but the size and power of the fish made my heart pound.  Two second later...it was all over.

Another opportunity for my first gar slipped through my fingers.  That hurt and the pain was sharp.  It haunted me all day and still does but it has dissipated.  On the other hand, I went to a muddy river that didn't seem conducive to fly fishing and hooked a fish.  That gave me some sense of satisfaction.  It was an odd situation to say the least which was followed up by other odd instances.  For example, a guy came zooming past me at one point on a gas-powered scooter that was loaded up with fishing rods and tackle while holding a chihuahua in his lap.  A little while later, a shirtless man on a bicycle rode over a nearby bridge and yelled profanities at me for no reason.  While I didn't get a gar in my hand, I did end up with a pretty interesting fishing story from Wichita, Kansas, of all places.

I also got to visit the local Cabela's store.

It was smaller than the one near the Kansas Speedway, but still a pretty cool place.

I also got a chance to get up close to my arch nemesis and study its behavior.