GOSHEN - Sometimes it’s like the tee shirt says. You “just hafta fish.” It only took a rumor that the walleye were biting in the Twin Bridges area of the White River near Goshen.
“We hafta go,” I said when I called stream-fishing ace Ron Duncan of Springdale.
The forecast high was 65 degrees for that Friday, March 15. It was mandatory that we try for some walleye.
“Too early,” Duncan shot back.
“The water’s too cold. We should wait a week.”
I sweetened the pot by saying we’d take my canoe and I’d bring lunch. I’d pick him up at his house.
That Friday morning found us in my truck on the way to the Arkansas 45 bridge over the White River. My canoe was strapped to the roof racks. Duncan brought lunch, a feast that his wife, Theresa, fixed.
We had our boat, fishing rods, boxes full of lures and the weather was gorgeous. There was one problem.
Neither of us know beans about walleye. We’re both on the side of ignorant about how to catch them.
We’d both caught a few by accident while bass fishing, but we’d fi shed for walleye on purpose maybe twice.
All we knew was that walleye spawned on the White River’s gravel bars above Beaver Lake.
We’d read that crank baits or jigs were good for catching them and chartreuse was a good color.
We banked on beginner’s luck.
WHERE RIVERS MEET
The parking lot at the Arkansas 45 access was crowded for a weekday. Others had heard the walleye rumors.
Duncan whipped a thermometer out of his tackle box and took the water temperature. Forty-seven degrees.
I’d read that walleye spawn in water that’s 45 to 50 degrees. The White River was in the zone, barely.
Recent rain had the stream a tad muddy and flowing fast. We started right off strafing the water with chartreuse crank baits.
Duncan asked a man and his son fishing from shore if they’d caught anything. Nothing, the dad said, and they were using live minnows, not lures.
Richland Creek comes into the White River about 200 yards downstream from Arkansas 45. We eased the bow of the canoe into Richland Creek and paddled upstream. The difference in the two streams was striking.
The White was muddy, but Richland flowed clear as if no rain had fallen. A bluff rose above the water, but we got tired of fighting the current before we reached it. The flow took us back to the White.
The streams did have one similarity. Neither was giving up any walleye today.
With that verdict in, Duncan put down his walleye rod and resurrected a lighter-weight spin-cast outfit. Time to try for crappie, he decreed.
Submerged trees on both sides of the river were all potential crappie lairs. Duncan’s gaze was fixed on one particular hardwood laying on its side.
“There’s a crappie, probably more, in that tree - guaranteed,” Duncan said.
This I had to see. I held the canoe steady near the thick trunk while Duncan worked the branches with a white tube jig.
“Told’ ja,” he hollered, then yanked a crappie from the twigs.
While Duncan fished for crappie. I kept fingers, toes and eyeballs crossed in hopes of a walleye.
Our fl oat was a short one, about two miles, but we worked every gravel bar and every tree. The take-out was on private land that Duncan had permission to use.
Our fish count for the trip was two crappie and zero walleye.
We loaded the boat on Duncan’s pickup and drove back to the Arkansas 45 bridge. Even more fishermen were at the river now on this warm afternoon.
About half recognized Duncan, who’s a commissioner on the Arkansas Game & Fish Commission.
One man bent Duncan’s ear with questions about crappie. Another wanted to chat about hunting. He’s happy to talk with everyone.
Conversations end with Duncan handing them a business card and saying, “Just call if you need anything.”
A fisherman asked Duncan to speak to his fly fishing club. Delighted to oblige, the commissioner said.
We’ll head out again when rumors of the white bass run start flying. When that happens, we’ll “just hafta fish.”
Outdoor, Pages 6 on 03/28/2013