Once-in-a-Lifetime Experiences Can Happen
I’m not the world’s greatest angler. The average outing sees me catch few fish and small ones at that. Not infrequently, I catch none at all. That’s how I came to be an expert in what to do when fish aren’t biting.
A recent trip is a case in point. Last Saturday, a friend and I drove down to Barlow Ford on the Gasconade River with two goals. First, I wanted to show Scott Gerlt a smallmouth honey hole that I discovered while “researching” a recently published article for Missouri Conservationist Magazine. Second, I wanted him to coach me on catching smallmouths with a fly rod.
We arrived at the gravel bar about the same time as two families towing a battered cargo trailer jammed with 10 kayaks. Curious how they knew about this remote spot, I asked one of the dads if they lived somewhere nearby. No, he said, they were from Marthasville, roughly 100 miles away. He asked where I was from. When I told him Jefferson City, he ventured a guess, saying, “I guess you read the article in the Conservationist, too. My cover was blown, so I admitted having written the article.
“I thought you looked familiar!” he exclaimed. He seemed genuinely pleased to meet the guy who had encouraged him, his fishing buddy and their families to explore the upper Gasconade. I’d like to believe that he also was a little impressed at meeting me, which is why I waited until the kayak armada was out of sight before wetting a line. I knew he would probably be the last sentient being I would impress that day. Heaven knows the fish seldom are awe-struck at my fishing prowess.
Scott doesn’t own a kayak, so we were in my Grumman Sport Boat, which is a pretty decent fly-casting platform. We went to the top end of the big bluff pool upstream from Barlow Ford, did a little wade-fishing farther upstream and then got back in the boat and drifted down through the deep pool with tall bluffs and a boulder-studded bottom. I had caught a really nice smallmouth in this pool the last time I was there, so I was optimistic. This time, however, the fish weren’t having any of it. I caught four tiny green and long-eared sunfish. Scott duplicated my catch and added a 10-inch smallie.
I attributed the slow action to the fact that it had rained 48 hours earlier and the river was falling. Whatever the cause, I was less than enthused about our prospects as we made our way back upstream for another drift through the hole. That’s when I spotted my first excuse for not fishing. About 30 yards away, on the shallow side if the pool, a turtle surfaced and seemed to be craning its neck slowly from side to side. At first I thought it was a big soft-shelled turtle, but then I noticed something odd about its neck and head. I expected it to be slender, with a pointy nose, but this seemed too slender and too flexible, even for a softshell.
By this time, Scott was looking at it too and we simultaneously decided the “neck” was a snake. We dropped our rods and began paddling to get a closer look at a medium-sized snapping turtle that was in the process of eating a water snake. That was something neither of us had ever seen before. As we got closer, Scott continued sculling while I fumbled to get my camera out of its dry bag. Then I had to remove the wide-angle lens and replace it with a telephoto. Meanwhile, Scott had trouble maneuvering the clunky Sport Boat against the current from his position in the bow. The net result was that we ended up farther from the action than when we started, and the turtle eventually took his dinner elsewhere. But the experience reminded me of a day last year when I stopped for a nap on a sandy bank a short way upstream and discovered a red-eared slider turtle digging a nest.
The second drift was pretty much like the first. We threw streamers, mohair leeches, wiggle minnows and cone-headed wooly buggers without much effect. That seemed like a good reason to eat lunch, which killed half an hour. Then we did another drift through the pool. Third verse, same as the first. If anything, the fishing had deteriorated.
That’s when Scott’s attention wandered to the bluff, which had what looked like a pretty sizeable cave entrance. I noticed a pile of freshly deposited gravel at the base of the bluff in front of the cave. To me, that indicated that water had been flowing out of the cave at a pretty smart clip during recent rains. I pointed this out to Scott, and we agreed that we ought to explore the cave. Down went the rods again.
Sure enough, a nice trickle of chill water issued from the cave. When we got up near the entrance, we were delighted to discover a torrent of cold air also issuing from the cavern. Using his cell phone as a flashlight, Scott led the way back some 100 feet into the cave, noting a couple of branching corridors along the way. Not having a helmet or a flashlight, it was only a matter of time until I cracked my head on a stalactite, so I went back to the boat and grabbed my camera. This was a photographic subject that wasn’t going anywhere! I got photos of Scott and the cave.
In spite of the day’s heat and humidity, we were sort of chilled by the time we got back to the boat. At the end of that drift, we decided to cut our losses and go home. We also agreed that the day had been salvaged by the snake-eating turtle and cave exploration.
Some of the best things about days afloat or afield are the unexpected, once-in-a-lifetime bonuses they deliver. Here are some other things I’ve discovered that turn lousy fishing days into a great memories:
On hot days, take a good book and plant yourself up to your bellybutton in cool water. A lawn chair is a nice accessory, but not absolutely necessary.- When things get dull, run with it by unrolling a ground pad on a shady bank and taking a nap. Therm-A-Rest makes models that roll up to the size of a bag of bagels, making them practical for the limited cargo space of kayaks. Use your dry bag for a pillow. Fishing might be better when you wake up.
- Nature photography is a great way to show the fish you don’t need their approval. I’m too busy to stop and smell that roses when the fishing is good, but when things get slow, I’m quick to beach my boat and snap a few nature photos. If cell service permits, I share them instantly with friends and family via Facebook or Instagram.
- In the fall, when there’s a chill in the air, it’s fun to build a fire and broil a fish in foil or trot out my PocketRocket camp stove and cook up a steaming bowl of ramen noodles.
You can probably add to this list. A wise track coach once told me that life throws everyone curves from time to time. You can’t change what happens to you in life, but what’s more important is what you do with adversity. So next time the fish refuse to cooperate, shift gears and turn lemons into lemonade.