Missouri fishing – Share the Outdoors

Rainbow trout grow fat and develop vivid colors eating natural food in Missouri’s wild-trout waters.

Trout Parks in Missouri

This is the time of year when the only way to enjoy time outdoors is to have all or part of your body immersed in water. It’s the perfect time of year to immerse yourself in one of Missouri’s many trout waters.

The Show-Me State has a wealth of trout-fishing options, thanks to five cold-water hatcheries operated by the Missouri Department of Conservation (MDC). Missouri’s four trout parks – Bennett Spring, Meramec, Montauk and Roaring River – each has an MDC hatchery to supply its needs, and MDC’s huge, modern Shepherd of the Hills Hatchery at Branson rears trout for the world-famous Lake Taneycomo trout fishery, plus trout streams and the winter urban trout fishing program in cities around the state. In all, these hatcheries crank out 1.6 million stockers a year. If that number doesn’t astonish you, your astonishment threshold is much lower than mine!

But that’s just a number. The proof of Missouri’s trout fishing is in the catching, and the catching is good. The daily limit in trout parks is four fish. If you are willing to rise early and know what you are doing, it’s no great challenge to hit this mark. Savvy trout anglers know that the water just outside trout park boundaries can be even more productive than fishing inside the parks.

These two anglers were well on their way to a limit of four fish each at Montauk State Park.

This raises the question of permits. You need a daily trout tag ($3 for adults, $2 for anglers 15 and younger) to fish inside trout parks. You don’t need this tag outside the parks, but you do need a fishing permit if you are age 16 through 64. Also – very important – you need a Trout Permit ($7 for adults, $3.50 15 and younger) if you want to keep trout caught anywhere outside of trout parks.

There is some fine print to consider at Roaring River State Park, and you would do well to acquaint yourself with special regulations that apply on the 23 blue-, red- and white-ribbon trout streams. All this is listed in the annual Summary of Missouri Fishing Regulations, which is available wherever fishing permits are sold or at www.mdc.mo.gov.

It’s worth noting here that while MDC operates hatcheries at Missouri’s trout parks, it does not own the parks. Meramec Spring Park, just outside St. James, is owned and operated by the James Foundation. The other three are owned and operated by the Missouri Department of Natural Resources (DNR). In addition to trout fishing, these state parks offer park stores with fishing gear tailored to local conditions, restaurants, swimming pools, hiking trails and campgrounds and cabins where you can retire for cool beverage.

Believe it or not, the DNR might have to shutter its trout parks if park-loving voters fail to turn out for Missouri’s general election November 8. The November ballot will include a vote on whether to renew the one-tenth of 1-percent sales tax for parks, soil and water. This tax comes up for renewal by voters every 10 years. The tax provides about three-quarters of the operating budget for state parks, so you can bet that most of the parks and trails will be closed should the tax fail to get a majority of voters’ approval.

This proposition will be titled “Constitutional Amendment 1.” The DNR will be forced to shut down or dramatically reduce fishing opportunities at Bennett Spring State Park, which has been a haven for Missouri anglers for 93 years, if the parks tax fails to get voter approval. If you value this legacy, tell everyone you know to vote yes to extend the tax for another 10 years.

But I digress. My personal favorite among Missouri’s incredible array of trout waters is the North Fork of the White River. This gorgeous stream meanders through Douglas and Ozark counties on its way to Lake Norfork. The 8.6-mile stretch of the North Fork from the upper outlet of Rainbow Spring to Patrick Bridge is a designated Blue-Ribbon Trout Management Area. That means anglers can only use artificial lures and flies, you can only keep one trout a day, and it must be at least 18 inches long. In practical terms, this guarantees a high-density of 12- to 18-inch trout and superb catch-and-release fishing. It also ensures there are plenty of adult trout to spawn each year and maintain the North Fork’s wild trout population.

Trout caught here and in Missouri’s other wild trout streams are impossible to confuse with hatchery-reared fish. Their colors are beyond belief, and their flesh – if you catch a keeper and can bring yourself to eat it rather than taking it to a taxidermist – is simply out of this world. It has the color of wild-caught salmon and rich, complex flavor. Smoked on a charcoal grill, it puts store-bought product to shame.

The Summary of Fishing Regulations has a wealth of information about the North Fork and other Missouri trout waters. After perusing it in the air-conditioned comfort of home, grab your fishing gear and wade into the chill waters of your chosen stream for some of the world’s best trout fishing.

Finding a turtle digging a nest was a bonus for the author on a recent fishing trip.

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.

Scott used his cell phone as a flashlight to explore the cave we discovered.

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.