Fishing Fallen Water

[Kevin]

FISHING FALLEN WATER
BY JOHN BERRY
I recently guided a father and his daughter, Gerald and Laurie, for three days on the White and Norfork Rivers. It brought back memories of all of the fishing trips that I had with my daughter as she grew up. We spent a lot of time on Dry Run Creek and I still cherish the memories. The fact that, on the day after they left, my daughter, Katherine, her husband, Stewart, and my grand children John and Larkin were due for a visit, made it even more poignant. The first two days featured tough conditions. We experienced high water (seven generators on the White) and high wind (complete with lake wind advisories). We were due for a break.
 
On Friday night we had a significant thunder storm. I have a pretty good handle on this because my yellow lab, Ellie, is storm phobic and always spends the night in the bedroom with Lori and me, when we have a storm. I knew that the next day the river would be choked with muddy water from runoff and would be pretty much unfishable. Conventional wisdom under such conditions is to head upstream until you find clear water. In most instances, the best place to start is the Catch and Release section below Bull Shoals Dam. The generation forecast for the day was for the Corps of Engineers to run seven full generators (over 21,000 cubic feet per second) for the entire twenty four hour period. As a result, we left the waders at the lodge.
 
When we arrived, we found the water to be gin clear and running very high. We launched my river boat and began fishing in earnest. It was the day before Easter and the river was eerily empty. There was only one trailer in the parking lot and the boat was not to be seen. We rigged the fly rods with the usual high water flies, brightly colored San Juan worms and egg patterns. We tried various colors without any success.
 
After a few hours, I noticed that the water was dropping. I switched the flies to small nymphs and still there was no action to speak of. We broke for lunch. We anchored the boat and walked up to my Volvo. I pulled a few chairs out and we sat and dawdled over lunch and watched the river drop. When we finished, I stored my gear and we returned to the river. The water was too low to drift and it was still muddy down stream. To further complicate matters their waders were back at the lodge. I had to come up with a new plan.
 
I loaded Gerald and Laurie in the boat and we motored over to a nearby gravel bar. We tried fishing from it but the wind had picked up to speeds in excess of twenty miles an hour and they were having trouble putting their fly in productive water. I loaded them back in the boat and we motored out a bit and anchored the boat. They were now in the middle of productive water. I rigged their rods with small tan soft hackles. They began picking up fish. From time to time, I would pull the anchor and let the boat slip down stream a few feet, which would present us with new water to fish. The catch slowed and I remembered that with the recent regulation change we could now fish multiple fly rigs.  I rigged their rods with dropper flies (zebra midges) in addition to the soft hackles. We began picking up some nice fish once again.
 
About this time, I noticed another boat approaching from down stream. The boater was having trouble and was grinding down his propeller on the rocks. The river had dropped to a very low level. I later learned that they had ramped down the level of generation down to 962 cubic feet per second or about a quarter of one full generator. There was not enough water to load the boat on the trailer. It made me wonder just how I would get my boat out of there. The other boater tried backing his car down in several spots until he found one where he could get in his trailer. I carefully noted it. He then got in his boat and after hitting several substantial rocks was able to drive it on the trailer. It was barely between the trailer rails and he had to winch it up a pretty good distance. He was finally loaded. By this time he had lost his temper and raced up the ramp and slammed on the brakes, which sent his spider chairs flying. I watched in wonder trying to learn from his mistakes but I was sure that the process would be fraught with danger.
 
About this time, I looked at the bank and noted that the water level was inching up. I called out a warning to a couple of wade fishermen that had moved in nearby. They immediately cranked in their lines and moved out. The Corps increased the level of generation by another 600 cubic feet per second, to the rough equivalent of one half of a generator. It was just enough water for me to safely get out of there. I motored over to the ramp and discharged my passengers. I walked up the ramp and retrieved my car. I carefully backed down the ramp until my trailer bunks were in the water. I was then able to carefully drive the boat onto the trailer and avoid hitting some pretty big rocks in the process. We stowed our gear, loaded into the car and headed back to the lodge.
 
Even though we had encountered some tough conditions, high water, muddy water, low water and heavy winds, we had managed to catch fish and enjoy the day. The secret had been to stay flexible and try different things.