Epic Weekend: Jacks are Wild (and so are the trout)

When I left Gulfport at 1:30 p.m. on the Friday before fall break weekend, it was 90 degrees under a cloudless, Mississippi sky.  Donned in shorts, flip-flops, and a t-shirt, I cranked up the Widespread Panic on the iPod and jammed my way north.  The Yeti Roadie was in the backseat, the Scott fly rods in their tubes, as well as enough minimalist gear to take care of my basic needs (sleep, fly-fishing, and beer) for the next four days.  The long-range weather forecast for Northern AR predicted a cold-front was on the way, but hopefully it wouldn't be a factor in my journey.  No such luck.  I passed through Jackson, missing the 5:00 rush and now cruising on I-55 through Memphis with dark clouds looming on the horizon. When I passed Exit 5 (Brooks Rd/Elvis Presley), the same exit where you would find Graceland, it was 82 degrees with a few raindrops spitting on the windshield.  Five minutes later on I-40 toward Little Rock, the rain was blowing sideways and the thermometer read 52 degrees.  Yes, the temperature had dropped thirty degrees in five minutes and the torrential monsoon I was driving through made speeds above 35 mph impossible.  After crawling through West Memphis and finally making it to the Flash Market in Marion, I stepped out of the truck in my tropical attire and into an artic blast and driving rain that quickly reminded me that summer was not endless.  Needless to say, I make a quick entrance into the store for my traditional beer and ice purchase at the crossroads.  As I've mentioned in other posts, this store is SPECIAL and is the official beer store of each Tailwater Tribe fly fishing adventure into Arkansas. 



At the Crossroads:  Flash Market: Marion, AR.  The Official Beer Store of Tailwater Tribe



I call it the crossroads because if I continue north on 62, I can fish the Spring, Norfork, and White Rivers.  If they are generating water on the White and Norfork, I can make a left turn right past the Flash Market and be on my way to Heber Springs and the Little Red River.  That being said, I managed to throw the Coor's and ice into the Yeti, and quickly made an administrative decision not to tackle the 150 miles of desolate road in 30 mph wind and blinding rain.  I would cut my losses and regroup in the morning with a full cup of Sonic coffee in the console.  I called the Bouncer's wife, Peggy, in Mammoth Springs and told her to tell the Bouncer that I would see them in the morning.  I then found a fine (cheap) accomodation, the Hallmarc Inn, scored a room, turned on the heat, and bedded down for the night with pent-up visions of large trout smashing my flies at will with every cast, following an eight-week hiatus from catching one.

The next day started cold and cloudy, but rapidly cleared as I made my way to Mammoth.  I stopped by the Bouncer's cabin, said hello to everyone and quickly made my exit to Lassiter Access on the Spring River.  The cold weather turned the trout into feeding maniacs, and over the next two days on the Spring River, I landed more trout than I could count.  The following day (Saturday), I ventured down the eight-mile gravel road to Bayou Access and pounded the rainbows on Olive Woolly Buggers. 

Bayou Access: Spring River.  You don't think you'll ever get here, but it's worth the effort...

Olive woolly bugger:  A Spring River favorite!  Lots of sculpins here.

The drive to and from was awesome, fall foliage, bright sunshine, perfect weather.  I lowered the windows and cranked up the Widespread Panic (Do you see a reoccuring theme here?).  It was on this winding maze of jagged rock that I discovered a "new" favorite WP song: "Jack".  Even if you don't like or don't know about Widespread, this is one BA song you should have on your iPod or whatever device you have. For you disbelievers, I have included a link to "Jack" (click on the link below)  The guy who posted this vid to YouTube did it as a tribute to a Michael Houser, a founding member of Widespread Panic who died of cancer a few years back.  It is really well done and a fantastic tribute to a true guitar legend.  It is really a great piece of work...Enjoy!

On Monday morning, I bid the Bouncer and his posse adieu and bailed out of Mammoth for the Little Red in Heber Springs.  The other rivers (White and Norfork) were off the table as they were both generating water. 
In Heber, I scored another cheap hotel, stowed the non-essential gear there, and headed for the river.  The next two days were indeed epic as well.  After spending two days chunking streamers, I relished in the fact that when I arrived on the Little Red that a hodge-podge of insect activity was occuring:  Swarms of march browns, midges, caddis, and other small mayflies were everywhere.  I caught too many to count on a spinner fall on a particular slicked out run that was unreal.  The next morning, the fish were still rising with no visible bugs, so I tied on a partridge and green and proceeded to catch a half dozen browns.

Partridge and Green Soft hackle:  A great choice for a variety of emerging mayflies or caddis

 A great surprise since I had not caught anything but rainbows the entire trip.  I love catching browns on the Little Red because they are wild fish: born and raised in the river where they swim.  Finally, I had to walk out and go home, back to work and reality.  Check out the videos below which document two of the browns I finished the trip with, all taken swinging those softies through the tailout on a large shoal.  You can see the videos on YouTube as well.  Until the next trip...Tight lines, amigos.