TROUT AND TAMALES

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 been a staple of the fly-fishing community in Heber Springs for years and I have been a patron since my first trip to the Little Red River over a decade ago.  During this time I have met and gained knowledge from a number of OA employees, most of who have moved on to other places or pursuits.

The next morning we awoke to rain and 38 degrees.  We had breakfast at the hotel where we were staying.  While dining, we struck a conversation with the desk clerk and mentioned we were going fishing.  She looked outside at the cold downpour and said, “Oh, really?”  I don’t think she believed us at the time. 

After breakfast, I called Ozark Angler and talked to a man who assured me that he could help with our crisis.  Elated, we loaded the truck and headed out in a steady, cold rain: temperature now 36 degrees.
 

When we arrived, we met George Born, a really nice guy.  George fixed Laurie up with a loaner pair of waders and boots and sold us some flies and other things we didn't need but had to have.  He also showed me his personal rig for the winter brown trout spawn period.  I won’t share the intricacies of the rig, but I will tell you it involves a #16 peach egg and a #16 Red Ass. 

#16 peach egg pattern

#16 Red Ass:  A Little Red Staple

 When I asked him his “indicator of choice,” he quickly replied.

                “Palsa Pinch-On.  White only.  How many fluorescent yellow, green, or orange things do you see floating on the river?”

 

Palsa Pinch-Ons.  Ignore the other three colors.  White is the only one that matters!

This made perfect sense, although I’d gotten away from this school of thought while spending the last ten years searching for my “perfect” indicator.  George’s advice brought to mind the ingenious use of white double-sided insulation tape from my original sensei, Rebecca Rawls, years ago. 

                “Looks like air-bubbles to the trout,” she said.

This stuff works just as good and you can make like a thousand indicators from one roll!  But the Palsa's are more convenient to hook on your lanyard.



Hot-Pink Thingamabobber



Neon-red Lightning Strikes

 That being settled, no more hot pink Thingamabobbers or neon red Lightning Strikes for me. 

To quote Michael Fitzsimmons from the classic movie "Peggy Sue Got Married":

"I'm going to check out of this bourgeois motel, push myself from the dinner table and say, "No more Jell-o for me, mom!"  

Michael Fitzsimmons: The classic rebel from Peggy Sue Got Married.  I suspect I know how he feels about brightly-colored indicators...

Kathleen Turner as Peggy Sue.  Not sure how she felt about indicators, but she didn't end up with Michael Fitzsimmons!

An American Classic

Finally, the fish…

After a long hiatus, Laurie got back into the saddle and promptly landed a nice rainbow. 

I followed with a couple big browns.  We stuck fish after fish, mostly smaller rainbows and I got one 18” bow that gave me all I wanted.  We used George’s rig with great success.  Thanks, George for making our trip a success in more ways than one.

 We fished until our hands were numb and returned to the motel for hot cocoa in the lobby.  The desk clerk we had visited with that morning greeted us.

                “How was the fishing?”

                “Unbelievable,” I said, taking out my phone to show her our pics from the day.

                “Unbelievable is right,” she said.  “I couldn’t believe you were going fishing in this weather.”

                “You have to be crazy,” I replied.

                We shared a laugh and I was certain she thought I was crazy.

 We returned to the room, thawed out with a couple cold beers and reorganized our gear for tomorrow which, if today was any indication, was certain to be the best day ever. 

 

 

At 3:00 a.m. I was awakened by the sound of sideways rain against the windows.  If this kept up, I knew we were in trouble.  Four hours later it was still raining as I drove for a visual on the river to see the damage.  Sure enough, the Little Red was blown out: high and the color of chocolate milk. 

Would you like a little chocolate milk with that Little Red?

I knew Greer’s Ferry JFK access was our only hope. 

The rain and 41 degree temps persuaded her to stay in the warmth of the F-150.  I repelled down and found a section of clear water.  A midge hatch was on.  I fished two hours and caught a dozen brookies to 10” using various flies, the best being a #22 Zelon Midge.  A great pattern I’d picked up from Craig Matthews at Blue Ribbon Flies in Montana years ago.

#22 Zelon Midge:  Highly Magnified

I stripped off the boots and waders, climbed in the truck and drove south.

Between Searcy and Heber we found a roadside tamale stand.

                “We have to stop…”

                And we did…

A really nice guy with a tear-drop tattoo greeted us from the trailer.  The guy was an interesting dude from LA (Los Angeles, not Louisiana), telling us the story of how he was raised by a Mexican family and learned to make tamales from his Mexican “madre,” and even how he worked for tamales growing up. 

 

He lifted the lid from the pot sitting outside on the gas burner and voila!  No doubt this was the real deal.  Steamy, made from scratch, wrapped in real corn shucks.  We sampled one and I must say, these were some of the best I’ve had.  Authentic?  An understatement.

 

These tamales are the real deal!  No deer meat! 100% beef

The hand-written sign on the trailer said: “$10 per dozen.”  We bought 12; six plain and six jalapeño-cheese.  We had downed a half-dozen before we got to Searcy.  

 

To add more of a dynamic, it seems the tamale stand owner is infamous.  He told us of a run-in he had with AFGA by selling deer meat tamales.  It seems he didn't know it was illegal and I believe him.  How many deer stands have you ever seen in East LA?
http://www.arktimes.com/ArkansasBlog/archives/2014/03/17/tamale-stand-reopens-no-more-deer-meat
You never know what you are going to get with each fly fishing trip to Arkansas.  One thing is for sure: there will be a weather event.  Another thing:  there will be an unexpected adventure along the way.  Thanks George Born at Ozark Angler and thanks, tamale dude for making our first fly-fishing trip of 2015 a great one.  Tight Lines to all of you...

Laurie and I after fishing.  Our faces are frozen this way.