A Career Day (a fish story with pics)
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I thought I would share the stories from our guided trip on the White River with guides John Wilson and Jimmy Traylor this past Saturday, February 16, 2008. Johnston Hager (“Stone”), Stuart Noel (“Stu”), Billy Reisner, and I all had a blast and I can safely say this was one of the best days of fishing we will ever encounter.
I don’t want this to be your typical fish story and I know when you start saying things like “best day ever” you run that risk. Thus, to enhance the veracity of the tale that follows, I have inserted pictures in an attempt to document the events of the day. I have taken the liberty of adding some detail for the sake of the spicing up the narrative a bit, but all in all, I have not embellished a great deal of what follows.
I also apologize in advance for my long-windedness but this day really inspired me. In fact, for the past 15 years that I have been fly fishing, I have never once felt the need to memorialize the events of one day on paper. I hope you can enjoy a fraction of what I felt by reading along.
The day began with a headache and a Budweiser to wash away the night. Stone, Stu, Billy, and I had a long night fishing on the Norfork where we caught a few average browns and a ton of rainbows. Keeping warm with nips of Jim Beam, we called it quits around 4 AM to nap before the 8 AM wake-up call.
Wilson and Jimmy T met us at Gene’s on the Norfork, per our request a day earlier, so we wouldn’t have to worry about driving home after a few brews on the river. As you might imagine, our trips to Arkansas primarily consist of drinking with a little fishing on the side. Or at least that’s what we claim for those years when we don’t have fish stories to tell.
Stu, Billy, and I reside in STL and we have been coming down to fish the Norfork and White every year for the past 5 or 6 years now. Our fourth man is typically “Big John” but unfortunately Big John’s wife was under the weather and he could not join us this year. We all wish her the best. Big John is usually the anchor of our group. He is a motivator, a great fisherman, and keeps the candle burning at both ends to say the least. He was shattered that he couldn’t make it on the trip and we all certainly missed him a ton. In hindsight, his absence may have been a blessing in disguise because now we will most likely be coming down a second time this year.
Filling Big John’s spot was not easy. We had a few candidates in mind but there were strict requirements. Obviously, the guy had to be somewhat proficient with a fly rod and we did not want someone who would spend his days on the phone dealing with a nagging spouse or an overly demanding occupation. The guy also needed to be up for late nights, early mornings, and gluttonous amounts of fishing. Ultimately, all of us came to the same conclusion. Enter Stone, Big John’s brother-in-law. Stone is relatively new to the fly fishing gig, but is an excellent spin fisherman and grew up sticking bass the size of your thigh. Needless to say, Stone figured out the long stick pretty quickly and had Wilson saying “that Stone is just fishy” by the end of the day. Here is a shot of the crew:
From left to right: Stu, Billy, me, Stone.
Well, as I was saying, at 8 AM Jimmy T and Wilson let themselves into our cabin at Gene’s to rustle us out of bed. The first big news of the day, to everyones’ surprise, was that they were not running any water on the White. This meant “fish eyes” were in play and our odds of hooking a hog went up slightly. We loaded our gear and coolers into the car, stopped for more beer on the ride to the White, and discussed our plan of attack.
There is always something interesting about walking in to the quick shop at eight in the morning with a beer in hand and placing more beer on the counter. You certainly get some interesting looks from the cashier. This morning, however, was slightly different. The cashier had a mullet down to the center of his back. He wore cut off sweat pant shorts and a wife beater to hide is 350 lb girlish figure. Without even batting an eye, he rung us up, flashed a toothless smile, and most likely cracked a beer himself shortly after we left.
On the ride over to the White, Stone learned his first lesson in fly fishing: “the wader fart.” He must have laid one down just as he was getting into the ride at the quick shop and when the smell didn’t hit immediately, he thought he got away with one. To his surprise, and per the usual wader marinade process, the stank hit about 15 minutes later when he repositioned himself on the seat. The windows dropped in flash and Wilson nearly had to pull the car over as his eyes were watering from the stench. After the Suburban finally aired out, we were at the river. Thanks for a pleasant ride Stone.
Thats more brown trout in weight and #s that one catches in 30 years in NJ….it is snowing and shitty here which makes looking at those pix even worse….NICE JOB. 😮
I’ll give that brown 12 pounds, 17 before he spawned, NICE FISH whatever…
Way to steal a man’s thunder.
Fish of a lifetime right there.
I’ll give that brown 12 pounds, 17 before he spawned, NICE FISH whatever…
Way to steal a man’s thunder.
Fish of a lifetime right there.
I’ll give that brown 12 pounds, 17 before he spawned, NICE FISH whatever…
I am going for tarpon in May and headed to Alaska in August.
Hey no disrespect intended, I haven’t caught a trout that big… I’m just saying its not 24 pounds still its a freaking huge fish, I wish I coulda seen it before it spawned…
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