I recently spent two days guiding two nice guys on the White River. Don was a lawyer from California and Robert was a computer engineer from Saint Louis. Both were accomplished anglers. The first day was glorious. It was sunny with a light wind and a cool morning. We went to Rim Shoals, my home water, and launched the boat. The water was dropping out. We fished around Redbud Shoals and caught a lot of fish. Around noon, we stopped for lunch. It was starting to warm up, so we ate our lunch on a picnic table in the shade near the river. The light breeze was perfect. Don was thinking of a nap but the idea of landing a few more nice fish finally drew him back to the river.
The river had completely dropped out. We donned our waders and loaded back into the boat. I drove us across to the island at Rim Shoals. This allowed us to avoid the tough wade across the shoals. The river was pretty crowded. We walked down the island toward my favorite spots but it was occupied. I walked over to another spot and tried fishing there. We picked up a couple of trout but the going was slow. I looked up stream and noticed that only one angler was fishing the top of the island. I moved the guys up there and we started catching fish hand over fist. We stayed there until the water came up. We then loaded back into the boat and went back to drift fishing. We caught a few more before the water became very trashy and the trout quit feeding. It was time to quit. My clients had put in a full day of fishing and had landed over fifty fish. They were quite happy.
The next day was a virtual mirror image of the first. The weather was a little bit warmer and there was not much of a breeze. The water was not dropping out quite as quickly as the day before. The major difference was that the fishing was quite a bit slower. We caught fish, good ones, but not at the rate of the prior day. Around noon, we ate lunch in the shade again. It seemed a lot hotter, even sticky, as we ate our sandwiches. We welcomed the thought of wading in the cool water. Once again, we donned our waders and boated over to the island. It was even more crowded than the day before. Miraculously no one was fishing near the top of the island.
We returned to the same spot we had fished the day before and started picking up fish. They were strong fish that fought well. Don had been the one with the hot hand the day before but this day belonged to Robert. Not only did he manage to land the most fish but also managed to land the big fish. In this case, it was a fat twenty inch rainbow. It was the largest trout he had ever landed and gave him bragging rights for the rest of the trip.
Despite the good fish, I was concerned. The fishing was quite a bit slower than the day before (we finished the day with around thirty fish). I was afraid that my clients would be disappointed with the day’s catch. I felt like there was not much more that I could do but at the same time I wanted to somehow produce fish.
About the middle of the afternoon, an angler on the other side of the river hailed me. He said that he was there on an outing of the Mid South Fly Fishers (my old fishing club) and that he was fishing a a woolly bugger that my brother Dan had given him. I watched him for a while and noticed that he was struggling a bit. My clients were catching fish and reasonably happy. I decided to wade over and give him a few pointers.
I met Don (another one) and his wife Meg. They were new members and not very experienced. I examined Don’s rigging and noticed a few flaws. He was fishing a too short leader, a strike indicator but no additional weight with Dan’s Woolly bugger. I removed the strike indicator, added two feet of tippet and a strip of lead. I quickly tied the fly back on. I then demonstrated the best way to fish a woolly. We chatted briefly and I returned to the other side of the river and my clients. During the afternoon, I observed him catching a few fish but thought nothing of it.
We finished the day much like the one before. The water came up, we caught a couple more fish and the water got trashy. We quit a bit early as it was hot and the trout had shut down. We said our goodbyes and I headed home. My neighbor Mike was cutting his grass. He stopped for a minute and he said that he had run into Don and Meg in the parking lot. He explained that they were very pleased that I had assisted them. They had caught five fish between them and they were ecstatic. It was their best day ever and they gave me credit for it.
It made me think about my first fly fishing trip over twenty five years when my brother, Dan showed me the ropes. Over the years, I have raised my expectations. I now think I should catch a lot of fish every time I go out. Don and Meg had the time of their life with five fish and I was disappointed with thirty. One, of which, was a trophy.
We all need to temper our expectations with reality and concentrate on the simple joys of catching fish. Thank you Don and Meg, you reminded me of that.
John Berry
(870) 435-2169
www.berrybrothersguides.com
