Tailwater Tribe

Tailwater Tribe: A Trip Abbreviated : Every trip is a gift. The longer I live, the more I realize how precious each opportunity is. Each time I break down the fly rods and slide ...

Every trip is a gift. The longer I live, the more I realize how precious each opportunity is. Each time I break down the fly rods and slide them into their tubes, I wonder when and where I'll assemble them again. These are thoughts I hadn't visited until recently. With age and experience come introspection and epiphany and mine is this:  fishing as in other pursuits of passion is a privilege instead of a given. Never was this reality more pronounced than on my latest fly-fishing excursion to my "home waters" in Arkansas. I ventured north from Gulfport for a quick trip wedged between the end of Spring term and beginning of Summer term. I planned two days fishing and of course, was at the mercy of the weather and the fickle generation schedule of the USACE. Arkansas has had an unseasonably wet spring, even for them. The tailwater reservoirs (Bull Shoals, Norfork and Greers Ferry) were all in flood pool and the Spring River was blown out. The reports were not promisi

Tailwater Tribe: A Teaching Opportunity

By occupation, I am a teacher. My parents were teachers, my sister and only sibling was a teacher. My DNA is constructed for it.  Even though most of my teaching occurs in an indoor classroom, one of the greatest pleasures I get is teaching someone how and where to fly-fish. I've had many mentors along the way, starting with my father, who certainly meant well when he took me fishing for the first time, but had no idea the impetus would fuel a life-long addiction.  On a pond bank in rural Mississippi, cane pole in hand, hook baited with a live cricket, I watched my red and white plastic bobber go under, yanked back and felt the spinning tug of a brightly colored sunfish.  Beyond excited, I flipped him out of the water and promptly flipped my brain into fish mode, for it was in that instant I was hooked on a sport that would in some level dominate the rest of my life.  Dad, I am forever grateful that you took time to introduce me to such a wonderful sport.  Thank you for the

Laurie and I left Gulfport New Year’s Day for Heber Springs, Arkansas.   We arrived at 5:00 p.m. and I began to unpack our gear.   A “deer in headlights” look came into my eyes when I realized I’d forgotten Laurie’s waders and boots.   After the initial shock of disbelief and thoughts of defeat, I remembered a trip I made to this same destination a few years back.   I forgot my waders and boots and borrowed a pair of each from Jed Holliman at the Little Red Fly Shop.   Jed saved my trip that weekend in a most gracious way.   Unfortunately, the LRFS closed its doors a few years back. The Little Red Fly Shop back in the day.  RIP: What a great shop! The Little Red Fly Shop today:  Unfortunately, it is now Chuck's Steak House, which I'm sure is a great place to eat                 “Ozark Angler,” I said.   “We’ll call and see if they can help.” Laurie was skeptical but I was optimistic as I rigged rods and organized gear for the next day. The Ozark Angler has