LAKEVIEW — I knew I was in trouble the moment I stepped outside Tuesday morning.
The sun hadn’t yet cleared the ridges overlooking Gaston’s White River Resort, but seven generators already were running at Bull Shoals Dam. The White River was swollen and swift, and a thick fog cloaked the valley in an icy veil. The temperature was below 30 degrees, but all I had to wear was a pair of blue jeans and a 10-year-old hunting coat that isn’t nearly as warm as it once was.
The rest of my group and their respective fishing guides were dressed in colorful Cabela’s arctic gear, with hooded parkas, gloves and balaclavas. Only Mike Masterson, my esteemed colleague from Fayetteville, was less suited than I for this day. His only barrier against the cold was a bright yellow, noninsulated slicker.
The event was an annual fishing trip organized by Larry Rea, former outdoor editor of The Commercial Appeal in Memphis; Jeff Samsel, public relations director at PRADCO, and Jim Gaston, owner of Gaston’s White River Resort. Among our group were several writers and videographers, including Glynn Harris, an outdoor writer from Ruston, La., and Glenn Wheeler, an outdoor photographer from Harrison.
Because of the cold, our guide, Frank Saksa, adjusted his plans. He wanted to run about 10 miles downstream, away from the rest of the traffic, to catch some big brown trout, but instead he stopped a few miles downstream of Stetston’s Resort.
Our goal was to catch some big browns using Excalibur stickbaits, a solid tactic when the river is full and fast.
“We’ve had two weeks of heavy power generation,” Saksa said. “Today we’re going to fish shallow flats because when the water runs so heavy for that long, the baitfish and the smaller rainbows are not strong enough to fight the current, so they’ll get close to the shore to get out of it. The big browns know that, so that’s where they go to feed.” Big brown trout, Saksa explained, feed efficiently. Instead of frequently feasting on river worms, crawdads and sculpins, they eat one big meal whenever they need it. A small rainbow trout or a sucker fits the bill nicely, and Saksa said they often hunt mere inches from the bank.
“You want to throw right up against the bank, twitch the bait down and ‘dead-stick’ it,” Saksa said. “The key is to keep it still so it stays in the strike zone. Once you get about 20 feet away from the bank, the water is too deep and too swift, and the trout will never see it.” Masterson, well-known among White River guides for his jigfishing prowess, struck first by catching a small rainbow on a white marabou jig. Saksa caught two keeper browns on the Excalibur, then I caught one.
Complicating this particular pattern were the moss beds between the bank and the main river channel. We had to be careful to prevent our lures from snagging the moss.
“Usually, this stuff we’re fishing is dry ground, but there’s usually a drop-off behind these moss beds,” Saksa said. “You can see the current slow down and eddy behind them, and that can be a good place to catch a big brown.” Saksa tossed his stickbait to the bank and twitched it down.
“Dang it, I’m hung up in the moss,” he said. He jerked again to free the lure, and it pulled back, hard.
“Whoa !” he gasped. “That’s a fish ! A nice fish !” After a brief but spirited battle, Masterson slipped the net over a male brown that measured 29 inches and weighed between 13-14 pounds.
“There are still a few of them in here,” Saksa said, beaming.
After a noon lunch at Gaston’s Pavilion, we took to the water again to catch some rainbows. This time we drifted live red worms, bumping them on the bottom with a dropper weight.
“This is the most productive thing I’ve found,” Saksa said. “We get river worms in the water when the river gets up, and the live red worm imitates a natural food source. Anytime you figure out what they’re eating naturally in the river, you’ll have a better chance if you imitate it or duplicate it. Because it’s a natural bait, we’re not limited to just rainbows. You’ll catch browns on it, and bigger rainbows, too.” Fishing in just two short stretches of water, Masterson and I caught two limits of rainbows in less than two hours while other boats nearby struggled to catch anything. There were a couple of reasons for that, too.
After reaching the end of a hole, Saksa motored back upstream to the head of the hole. When he turned off the motor, he instructed us to cast only when the boat matched the speed of the current.
“Otherwise, your line will get behind you, and it’ll come off the bottom. You won’t be able to maintain contact with the line, and the bait will rise out of the strike zone.” The second reason was boat control. Saksa uses oars to keep his boat properly oriented. Others position their boats with their outboard motors. That doesn’t work well because it makes the boat fight the current instead of flow with it, and that will mess up your bait presentation.
The next morning, Masterson, Saksa and I agreed to take it easy. We got up at 8 a. m., talked over breakfast until about 9, and hit the water just when it was getting nice. We went a short distance to one of Saksa’s honeyholes and caught two limits of rainbows before lunchtime.
High, fast water can make it tough to catch trout on the White River in early spring, but Saksa made it seem like child’s play.
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