| The Prez Sez | Mark Van Patten |
| Informative Official Stuff | . |
| High School Fly Fishing Clubs-A Bridge to the Future? | by George Hobson, Executive VP/Secretary |
| 1996 Council Awards Presented at Conclave | . |
| Bill Lambing Memorial Scholarship Established | by Steve Jensen, Southwest Missouri Fly Fishers |
| New Southern Council Officers | by Hod McIntosh, VP Communication |
| The 1997 Texas Fly Fishing Show 'Fun on the Banks of the | by Bob Miller, Alamo Fly Fishers |
| Conclave 1996 Recap | by Tracie Maler, VP Membership |
| Long Casts Distribution | by Tracie Maler, VP Membership |
| Fly Fishing the Ozarks | by Dave Adkins, North Arkansas Fly Fishers |
| Ham & Fish Eggs | By Rusty Dunn, Heart of America Fly Fishers |
| Barren Fork's Best | By Chuck Tryon, Roubidoux Fly Fishers |
| Master Angler | by Donna Stenneche, CornHusker Fly Fishers |
| Closing | . |
The Prez Sez |
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The Ladies Luncheon and the Youth Conclave did their part in reaching new heights in attendance. The Ladies boasted 68 attendees, while the Youth had 36 young people learning and sharing in our favorite sport.
The Sunday morning board meeting shows promise of a busy year ahead. The funding for many conservation projects was approved and will be dispersed this year. The new executive committee was elected, and are listed elsewhere in the newsletter. Of note is the fact that these officers represent six of the seven states in the Southern Council. I want to thank these poor souls who have volunteered to dedicate their time to helping the Southern Council grow. The jobs are not easy and the time required to fulfill the obligations of their office is great.
The Southern Council is making a strong conservation statement for the upcoming year. At our December business meeting, The Council's conservation budget was increased from $3,500.00 last year to $7,000.00 for 1997.
One program to benefit is the Crooked Creek Coalition. After a presentation at our business meeting by Dave and Emily Whitlock, voting attendees at the meeting provided $2,000.00 in donation for use in combating the continued mining of gravel (at over 20 different sites) on the creek . Another $1,000.00 was donated to the Missouri STREAM TEAM program to be used to help support water quality monitoring projects. Youth will again be served by the $5,000.00 donated for project WET scholorships, from which Mid South Fly Fishers will receive $1,000.00 per year for five years, and the $1,000.00 donation voted to continue support for the Council's Louisianna youth program.
Donations pay off . Many of you saw the Arkansas Game and Fish Dept. electro-fishing boat parked in the Ramada Inn parking lot during the conclave. This boat was partially funded by a donation from our council, and is being put to good use, according to Arkansas cold water biologist John Stark. Conservation and youth education issues are worth our continued support. Any money we spend on these is an investment in our future.
In all, the Southern Council is doing more than talking clean streams. They are putting their money where their mouth is. We have been fortunate to have the leadership and dedication in the past that has enabled us to afford to support these worthwhile efforts. I will do my best to continue that tradition as your president. I hope to serve you well over the next two years. Thank you for your confidence, "clean streams and angling dreams."
Mark Van Patten
INFORMATIVE OFFICIAL STUFF |
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Changes of address should be mailed to the Southern Council's VP for Membership, Tracie Maler, 299 S. Walnut Bend, Suite 101, Cordova, Tn. 38018
Advertising inquiries and correspondence should be directed to the Southern Council's VP for Development, Michael Verduin, 2102 Montclair, Lewisville, Tx. 75067
Long Casts is printed and mailed by ED REED, Reed Printing and Supply Company, Inc., PO Box 605, 619 South Brindlee Mountain Parkway, Arab, Al. 35016.
The Southern Council Homepage is located at http://www.sky.net/~flyfish/ Send any home page related comments or questions to Bill Brant
High School Fly Fishing Clubs- A Bridge to the Future? |
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The RFFA's concept of the club centered on two premises. The first was that the RFFA could provide positive role models for the young men and women. The club's members ethical approach would provide leadership by example rather than by lectures and class room work. School officials saw the RFFA's ongoing work with conservation projects, other youth activities, and the ideals of community betterment as practical demonstrations of good citizenship. As the Number 1 Stream Team in Missouri, the RFFA's work on the local Roubidoux Creek and other community projects was seen as just the type of activity that would interest students, and prepare them for community involvement as adults.
No less important were the opportunities to be provided by fly fishing itself. It was not just the fishing, but the fly tying, aquatic entomology, rod building, and the numerous other activities of the sport that were rightly viewed as offering appeal and challenge to a broad range of students. The truth of that view proved out in the number of students who found specific interests to the exclusions of others: some liked to just tie flies, and others found the aquatic entomology to be of greatest interest. However, the majority enjoyed the full range of fly fishing activities, and with the enthusiasm of youth, many quickly became adept at fly tying and catch and release of the fish caught with their creations.
Students have repaid the interest of the RFFA many times over, not only by their enthusiasm of the sport, but through their voluntary participation in removing several tons of trash from the Roubidoux Creek, in after-school fly fishing classes and trips, and tours of Missouri Department of Conservation trout hatcheries.
The student interest was a bit cautious the first year, with only sixteen initial members. The second year over sixty students joined the club, and the membership continues to be above that level. It has been interesting that the best of the school's academic leaders, athletes, and student body leaders are always represented in the club membership.
The success of the club was so noteworthy that it was featured by the Missouri Department of Conservation (MDC) on its syndicated television show, Missouri Outdoors. By 1992, the Southern Council asked the National Headquarters to take on the program, and serve as a single point of contact for other FFF clubs. The Southern Council provides funds to assist in this effort, and the MDC produced a six minute video in support of the program.
There are several Items available at cost and on a loan basis from the national FFF for FFF clubs and individuals interested in this program for their own schools:
The Student's Guide is designed as an active text, complementing the Instructor's Guide by requiring students to complete fill-in-the-blank portions as they learn about everything from rods and selection of equipment to knots. The books have been designed to allow local instructors to customize the sequence of instruction, content, and locally reproduce portions of the booklets if each student can not be provided their own copy. It is essential that an Instructor's Guide be used when teaching the material in the Student's Guide. The video Fly Fishing Clubs is available on a loan basis, and provides a great way to see what really goes on at one of the clubs: the enthusiasm of the students must be seen to be appreciated! The video is a great way to introduce the program to your club, school administrations, and school boards to gain their support.
Editors note: The future of all conservation, preservation, and restoration effort lies within the mind and heart of what are now our youth. Can we afford to leave that future to chance? Through education, the need to make a difference as an individual will become apparent. Please consider getting involved. You won't be sorry.
If you would like to get information directly from the RFFA, you can call or write to George K. Hobson. George developed the materials for the program, and remains active in the Waynesville High School Club program. He can be contacted at (573) 774-2797, or write to: 202 Bobby Dale Drive; Waynesville, MO. 65583
1996 Council Awards Presented at Conclave |
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Bill Lambing Memorial Scholarship Established |
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At the 1996 Annual Business Meeting of the Southern Council, held October 6th, in Mountain Home, Arkansas, the Scholarship was officially named "The Bill Lambing Memorial Scholarship", in recognition of Bill's many talents and his efforts on behalf of the Southern Council. The Council lost a great friend when Bill passed away earlier this year, a victim of cancer.
Initial funding for future scholarships to be issued in recognition of Bill came from a heartfelt donation of $500 from Richard and Diana Turner of Mountain Home, as well as an additional $350 contributed by individuals who attended the pre-conclave gathering at the Turner's home. Those donations, future donations, and continued funding by the Southern Council will assure that Bill Lambing is remembered.
Individuals wishing to donate to the fund may do so by sending a check (payable to the Southern Council, FFF) to:
New Southern Council Officers |
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The election of officers and directors took place during this annual business meeting and we have new people elected to all council offices except for VP's of Communication and Education and one International Director. The Southern Council Officers and Directors for the term running from October 1996 to October 1998 are as listed below:
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The 1997 Texas Fly Fishing Show 'Fun on the Banks of the Guadalupe' |
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More than 800 men, women, and children attended the 1996 event, held this past May 3-5. The show was deemed a "rousing success" by organizers and participants alike. The '96 show, the first of its kind, featured all kinds of activities, exhibitors, classes (both free basic and pay-for advanced), fishing, and presentations such as those on Texas streams and gulf coast fishing, by members of the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department.
Members of the Alamo Fly Fishers taught more than 300 persons to fly cast. Canoe, kayak, and pontoon boats were available, along with instruction on their use. Classes offered were varied and diverse, covering topics from bass fishing for trophies, to nymphing for trout.
Those interested in receiving registration packets for the 1997 event may call 210-792-3535, or write to Bob Miller, c/o Pico Outdoor Co., PO Box2192, 1600 harper rd., Kerrville, TX. 78028.
Conclave 1996 Recap |
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It all began Thursday evening at the home of Richard and Diane Turner. Richard and Diane prepared delicious food and opened their beautiful home to everyone who was in town that evening. We all had a fabulous time and look forward to doing it again next year. Make sure you get to Mountain Home early to attend the party.
Friday was full of fun and interesting events. Ed Jaworowski's casting clinic and Dave Whitlock's fly tying clinic received rave reviews. Maggie Merriman surprised us all when she conducted a casting clinic of her own for the ladies. The casting games conducted by Shawn Taylor and Jerry Clark were so popular this year that we thought the sun would go down before everyone got their chance to compete. Tom Jindra, our national President, conducted FFF casting certification at a nearby facility. Chuck Easterling conducted a beginning fly tying class that truly gave those who had never tied a fly the fly tying fever. (believe me, my mother is one of them.) Over forty fly tiers showed up their talents. Commercial displayers presented their fly fishing items and answered questions about their products. Slide show presentations took place all afternoon on topics from fishing in local waters to exotic far away places. Computers were available, along with assistance to show you how to "surf the net" for fly fishing information and a silent auction and raffle were held during the course of the day.
Friday evening began with a presentation by Knee Deep in Science, a group of Raymondville, Missouri grade school children that are members of the Stream Team. Their presentation delighted everyone as well as gave us some very important issues on the environment to think about. Dave and Emily Whitlock presented a program on "Fly Fishing the Ozarks" which showed us beautiful slides of the area during each season of the year. Johnny Chamness assisted by Dennis Slane were terrific as always at auctioning items during the live auction. The evening was capped off by live music courtesy of the "Busted Fin Mud Thumpers Band".
Saturday had even more in store. In addition to Ed's casting clinic, Dave's fly tying clinic, fly tying demonstrations, commercial displayers, slide show presentations, computer demonstrations, raffle and silent auction, we had a youth conclave that was a tremendous success. John Viser chaired this challenging task. John, along with lots of volunteers, took 38 children to Dry Run Creek for some wonderful fishing. The largest fish caught was between six and seven pounds! (not bad for a beginning fly fisher). The children and the volunteers ass had a wonderful time.
A ladies brunch was held at Chelsea's Restaurant, where a record breaking 68 were in attendance. Maggie Merriman was our guest speaker. A raffle and live auction, conducted by Steve Jensen, were held and everyone left the brunch with a gift. Christina Taylor and Amy Galyardt did a fantastic job in organizing this event.
Saturday evening began with a banquet and was followed by an entertaining look at the "Education of a Fly Fisher", presented by Ed Jaworoski. The evening ended with a live auction once again conducted by Johnny Chamness.
We broke a lot of records this year, and the one I am most proud of was our attendance of 609. Betty and Don Niccum and Sharon and Lew Goodson did a super job of making sure that registration ran smoothly this year, just as they do every year.
What a full and fabulous weekend. If you were there, you know what fun we all had. If you happened to miss it, please try to come next year. I'm sure you'll agree that Conclave is not only entertaining. but educational as well. Again, thank you volunteers, for donating your time and talents, and making this the most successful conclave ever!
Long Casts Distribution |
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The challenge is: UPDATE YOUR CLUB ROSTER
A current listing of all your members names, addresses and phone numbers will help to assure that everyone in your club receives a copy of Long Casts. Each month as new members join your club, make sure that their information is sent to me. If we keep up with new members each month, it will make all of our jobs easier.
Long Casts is full of valuable information that everyone should have access to and you can help make it happen.
Please send your updated club roster to: Tracie Maler, 299 S. Wallnut Bend, Suite 101, Cordova, TN. 38018. If you need to contact me: (901) 757-2383 work, or (901) 757-0112 home.
Also, please send me your clubs FFF annual Dues. A letter requesting your dues was sent out in October. If you have not already sent them in, now is the time.
I appreciate all your cooperation in assuring that no one is left off our mailing list.
Long Casts Editor's note: Tracie has already spent endless hours removing duplications from the ancient mailing list she inherited. Under former President Jensen, the Council vowed to get a newsletter to each member of the Southern Council. Someday soon, this will become a reality. All we need is your help. Please send only editorial comment to the newsletter editor. All issues concerning delivery of the newsletter, must be addressed to Tracie.
Club officers - Your cooperation will make the above possible! Help Tracie, and your club members, by sending in your rosters and then updates as you get new members. Let's all help make our council the best informed one in the FFF, by getting a newsletter to each member each quarter.
Fly Fishing the Ozarks |
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Since this was his first time on the White, I suggested that we walk down river and see if the fishing prospects were better than the spot we now occupied. The river was down, and had been for over 24 hours. As we walked, I noticed small a small cut in the bank, and from a distance, it appeared to be fairly deep, maybe two or three feet. The sun picked the moment I approached to come out, and naturally, since I was standing straight up, my shadow was cast directly over the little hole. All I saw was a streak and a wake as big as a submarine torpedo, as the hole's occupant took his leave. I learned something there, - you can't count on the clouds to keep you out of sight - Murphy's Law still lives.
Anyway, Texas and I continued down river. We got to the gravel bar in front of Sportsman's and began to cast to the faster water in the chute formed at low water between the gravel bar and the opposite bank. On the first cast, my sow bug was engulfed by a good rainbow. He ran this way and that, cutting bank and forth through the fast water, straining the two pound tippet to its limit. But, alas, his struggle was to no avail, and, thanks to a barbless hook, he was returned to fight another day. After catching several rainbows from the chute, I decided to try the relatively calm water on the south bank. I waded across the gravel bar and cast to a small eddy of calm water. The sow bug was slammed hard, the strike indicator skidded sideways and I thought I had encountered Moby Dick. When I lifted my rod tip to set the hook, my quarry revealed himself - a nine-inch brookie. In addition to being the first brookie I had ever caught, that was the jumpingest fish I ever saw. He cleared the water three times by a full body length. what a scrappy little fish. After releasing that one, I cast back to the same spot, with the same result. The second fish was an exact copy of the first, aerobatics and all.
I moved several times and caught fish each time. All rainbows, but no real size to them. After about five hours of this, I was growing weary, and still faced the long walk back to my truck at the White Hole. So, I examined my bug, found to be severely chewed and weary, and, like a sailor who has given his last effort in battle, it was given a watery burial in the river, and a replacement was called to the front. I tied on a beadhead nymph and began the long (about a mile) walk back up river to the White Hole. Texas was still fishing the chute, and had caught enough for his dinner, since he was eating out (outside his van). However, he had not been too successful with his choice of flies, and had abandoned his fly rod in favor of power bait and spin cast. Well, to each his own, I guess. So, bidding him a farewell and tight lines, I left him there.
As I walked along the bank, I remembered the little cut I had emptied with my shadow five hours before, and this time I was determined that, if that fish was there, it was mine. I got to within 25 feet of the hole, and saw his shadow (it's only fair, he saw mine last time). He was huge, and at maybe four pounds, was about 20 inches long. I made two false casts to let out line, my heart was pounding, my hand shaking, but I managed to drop the beadhead right on target, just to his right. Immediately, he turned, saw the bug, and blasted it. The battle was on. The rainbow tore off out of the hole and down river, his mistake, since now I was above him, and he had to fight the current and me, too. I crashed down the bank into the river. My reel was screaming. Suddenly, the backing appeared on my reel, and I knew I was into a real fish. Trying to stay up river from the fish, I was thrashing around in the river, water everywhere, including in my waders, off my chin and down my arms. Rod tip high, reel screaming, line tight, I just knew the tippet was going to let go (it had seen a lot of fish that day). About 20 yards into the backing on my reel, back and forth we went, first he would take line, then gave it back, seesaw. As we both tired, I felt extreme pride in this fish. He had the guts and the strength to see the battle through to the end. As he came close to me and rolled on his side, I reached to remove the hook that had joined us for a short time, but, he had one more trick. He wasn't quite as tired as I thought, and, with a flip of his tail, he dowsed me with ice-cold river water, and broke off. I have never fought a more valiant or cunning fish, or one with more will to win, and not surrender. The best part of this story, is that fish is still in the river, waiting to fight another day, and to make more just like himself. Maybe you'll encounter him or one of his kin one day. If you do, give him my regards, then let him go to fight another day.
Come on down, or up as the case may be, to the Arkansas Ozarks. We have fishing you wouldn't believe. Sometimes, the fishing on the White River is real good, sometimes it's fantastic. I've never been skunked or had a bad day on the river. So, come on down to the tail waters of the White, below Lake Rim Shoals Dam, tie one on, and be glad you did. Remember, "If you're too busy to go fishing, you're too busy".
Ham & Fish Eggs |
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A friend of mine, Paul, has gone off the deep end. This is always sad, but this particular guy used to have it so "together." Anyway, the other day I walked right by, and didn't even recognize him, though he noticed me, and identified himself. I was in no particular hurry, and, since we were very near a favorite watering hole, we ambled in for a drink. Paul looked terrible, like he hadn't slept or eaten in a week, and I asked him why he hadn't been taking better care of himself.
He agreed that he had not been taking care of himself, but said that his work was too important to take time out for grooming, eating, etc.(his smell was enough to gag over, though somewhat vaguely familiar). My friend continued, saying that, until recently, he had been spending almost every waking hour fishing, or thinking about fishing. Now, if you know me, you are aware that this is almost all I do, and that most of my buddies are similarly afflicted "brothers of the fin," as I reminded Paul. He adamantly disagreed with my comparison of his situation and mine, and became even more agitated, as he began pouring his story out to me. His strange experiences follow, just as they were related to me....
Pauls's Story:
It had been a rough day of fishing. Not a single bite, although there were large numbers of fish in each pool. It was one of those sunny, blue sky days, the kind that make fishing all but impossible, sometimes. At lunchtime, having been unable to solve the mystery that would enable me to limit out, I sat down under a tree to eat my lunch. It was so pretty out that I fell into a kind of daze, and then actually went to sleep. After only a few seconds, however, a black walnut fell on my head, and, of course, woke me up......That's when I had the revelation!
It was all so clear to me!....No amount of common stealth would work on these fish. I would have to pit my intelligence against theirs, and figure out how to lull them into a sense of false security, so they would feed naturally in my presense, thus rendering them catchable. I thought of all I knew about fish, most of my knowledge coming from the books I'd been collecting for years. Yes, I wore all green, crouched down as I approached my quarry, and so on. But, I would obviously have to do more....So, I began to experiment, wondering just how far is far enough....Just how well developed were their senses....?
First, I must look like my prey's surroundings, so I put on camouflage (including face paint), like they do on South Island in New Zealand. This improved my fish catching a little, but not nearly enough. Perhaps, more thought on looks, later....
Next, of course, was the inevitable thought that I must smell familiar also....so, I began experimenting with several exotic scents....river muck, dead fish, rotting leaves....these experiments alone....just the tip of the iceburg, so to speak, were solely responsible for my divorce. Getting back to my story, however, smells alone, didn't achieve my ultimate goal. So, my quest continued....Obviously, I must sound like the river....
So, I listened to the river, particularly around the pools and found that I had trouble distinguishing different sounds. Two thousand dollars later (after a loan from the bank), however, I could isolate sounds with my new audio equipment, and what I found startled me! Most of what the fish were hearing was the sound of other fish and insects....
First I tried dressing and sounding like a fish. This may seem easy, but most fish don't make much noise. If you are familiar with fish tank fish, then you know that they just open their mouths and don't say anything, or so we thought. Guess what! They talk....they just whisper....but, do have any idea how difficult it is to whisper all the time? Well, let me tell you, it drives you crazy. Dressing like a fish is no walk in the park, either, especially when you have to go into the local Loaf and Jug, and pay for your gas. The looks you get are bad enough, but those "Charlie the Tuna" cracks are hard to take. For no apparent reason, I lost my job about this time. Anyway, my fishing success didn't improve like I thought it should have, so my quest continued....
Insects, I thought....now there's the answer! All I had to do was dress, smell, sound, and think like an insect, or, as my old high school football coach used to say, "be," in this case, an insect. It is surprising how little the average guy knows about the daily routine of an insect.
After two months of rubbing myself with paste made from ground mayflies, I pretty much smelled like an insect. The clothing was a bit more difficult, but there were certain shortcuts, like the bug eye type sunglasses you can find in any drugstore, which are perfect, and the joke shop head antennae, which pass for the real thing, in an pinch. I had to rewire the theatrical wings I ended up using, so that I could still get my fishing vest on, and cast.
Having tried out the dress and sound of several different insects, I decided to go with a cricket....since it wears all black (easy to find clothing color), and the sound is one with which I'm familiar. Of course, about this time the bank foreclosed on my home, and my car was reposessed. Still, most cricket mannerisms were easy to learn, but the idea of rubbing your legs together to make a courting noise is for the birds (just a figure of speech). That's not the worst of it either. Now, every time a girl walks by wearing black, I have indecent thoughts....but, I digress....
Armed with my new identity, I returned to the stream (with my posessions, such as they were, since I'd been thrown out of town, by the police), only to find the fish still frightened. So, I rigged up wiring in the trees, and was able to appear to fly through the air, insect fashion....casting was difficult, etc., but I was finally starting to blend in. That's when the trouble started....
I began to like flying from one tree to another more than fishing, and I made more cricket noises than absolutely necessary. I wore only black, and abhorred all other colors. Nighttime was my time, and light was beginning to hurt my eyes. My smell was something I was proud of, and I began to fanticise about female insects. Things were getting out of hand. I chirped all night on Saturday, and spent the better part of yesterday running from my dog, Henry, who was probably just curious, but growlingly, if so....
.........Paul's Story Ends.......
I stopped Paul at this point, as I was becoming alarmed at his level of anxiety. A closer look at his gaunt, emaciated shell caused me to excuse myself to go to the bathroom, where I looked up a number in the phone book, called to verify location, and then returned to my table, and the waifish body of my companion. I led him from the bar to a building just down the street, where I guided him into a backroom meeting of I. A. (Insects Anonymous). I stayed with Paul as he admitted to the group that he had a problem....
Knowing that he would now be okay, I returned to work, with only the small tin of ground insect pulp I had wrenched from Paul's pathetic, bony hands as a memory of the horrid event.
I've been experimenting with the insect pulp, and have begun to long to smell the smell of insects, to chase women wearing black, or, of course, those buggy looking sunglasses. This morning, when I found myself rubbing my legs together under the desk (my secretary wore all black), I knew I must do something! On rubbery legs, I half walked, half jumped to an I. A. meeting, took my place in line, and prepared myself to admit to a deep desire to have antennae, wings, and bug eyes....
Postscript....
The oldtimers in the support group say there is hope for me, but Paul, it is sad to say, was beyond therapy, and today lives with a colony of grasshoppers, somewhere in the Wind River range, of Western Wyoming. His occasional letters do not offer much hope, full, as they are, of his chronicle of life in the wild, hopping from one weed to another, happy as a clam....but then clams are another story, since I also have a secret crustacean fantasy....
Barren Fork's Best |
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I first chanced upon the place in 1967. In my job as a wildland hydrologist, I was reconnoitering the area preparatory to an investigation of that little corner of the earth's water resources-its geology, hydrologic behavior, water quality, aquatic life, management possibilities and potential problems to guard against. Just because I was there, I leaned out the truck door halfway across the county-road ford and stuck a thermometer in the water. On that sweltering June afternoon, the temperature was a chilly 62 degrees. wow! This might, or could, be trout water. But "Death to Tresspassers" sign reminded me I had other, perhaps friendlier, places to reconnoiter, too.
I learned a lot about Barren Fork over the next ten years, but ot wasn't until 1979 that I discovered it was indeed a trout stream, stocked by a private club which leased a couple of miles of it from one of two major landowners. Natural trout reproduction wasn't confirmed for several more years, after the club disbanded and stocking stopped. Whether today's wild population is the progeny of those stockings in the '70s, or of other possible stockings vaguely alluded to by federal hatchery records dating back to the teens, may never be known with certainty.
The Major landowner's only interest in trout was as an income source. With the loss of the fishing club's lease payments in the early '80s, his plan turned to selling cabin sites and trout-fishing timeshares. He would raise and stock his own trout, and I was offered the job of managing it all for him. As a seductive enticement, he toured me up and down the creek that day, extolling its virtues, but never suggesting I wet a line. It was my first, and still my only, foray beyond the death-to-tresspassers signs, and it was tough to keep my cool. Still, I did (I think), and I turned his offer down. Atta boy, Chuck!
Trout Unlimited initiated a stream-aquisition program in 1990, and I helped select Barren Fork as Missouri's nominee for inclusion. Maybe my 25-year unrequited love affair with Barren Fork finally would bear fruit.
It was not to be. Purchase negotions between TU and the two landowners proved baren, too, and TU's funding was diverted elsewhere. Disappointing, even depressing.
But seeds had been sown, and the Conservation Department finally acquired Twin Springs and a half mile of the creek below late in 1995. It was an exciting moment, a dream at least partially come true. At last I had free rein to stalk Barren Fork's wild, streambred trout, even if only a few of them. Alright!
My first foray was in February of '96. I deferred much of the water to two companions that day, and took my delight in their success. Ed-one, Terry-one, Chuck-zero. but in was great fun, anyway.
My second foray was a couple of weeks later, and I was armed only with a camera as another companion systematically struck trout after trout with unerring skill. I'll swear he caught 'em not only everywhere they were supposed to be, but out of the trees, off the gravel bars and between his feet, as well. Now the score was Ed-one, Terry-one, Don-ten and Chuck, still zero.
This afternoon, I went back alone. I'd seen what worked for the others, and had a couple of tricks of my own to try, too. Today would be mine, and all my years of dreaming and scheming would be over. After 29 years of waiting, I would catch my first Barren Fork trout.
I did, a stunning colored 12-incher, in the very first pool, on maybe the fifth cast, on a redheaded peacock-and-brown, long-shanked size-six Simulator Nymph, a favorite western pattern virtually unknown here in the Ozarks. I caught a smaller, even more beautifully marked one later, this time on a BUBfly, a tame-trout-and-farm-pond pattern I devised 20 years ago, but which I'd never fished over wild trout before. Fun!
It's nearing two in the morning, now, and I've been reliving the past 29 years for almost nine hours. It occurs to me that I may already have enjoyed the best that Barren Fork has to offer, not in terms of the biggest fish, certainly, or the most fish, but the best fish - the ones I worked and waited 29 years for. I can never repeat that, now, and there's lotsa good, even better, water, a whole lot closer to my doorstep. Maybe I'll just let well enough alone. I dunno.
On the other hand, maybe those death-to-trespassers signs on the rest of the creek will come down someday. If they ever do, you'll know shere to find me. I'll have waited even longer than 29 years to fulfill those dreams!
Master Angler |
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While I was engaged in creating the quilt, I gave a lot of thought to what to put on the label. This is what I arrived at:
Closing |
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Send any home page related comments or questions to Bill Brant
This page updated November 23, 1996