Ground out

Anglers squander chance with White River smallmouths

Ray Tucker of Little Rock caught the first smallmouth Monday on the White River near Mountain View. White River smallmouths exhibit more of a golden color than those in other waters around the state.
Ray Tucker of Little Rock caught the first smallmouth Monday on the White River near Mountain View. White River smallmouths exhibit more of a golden color than those in other waters around the state.

MOUNTAIN VIEW -- Ray Tucker and I expected to win our doubleheader on the White River with a home run, but we grounded out instead.

Twice in the past two years Tucker and I visited the White River at Mountain View to catch big smallmouth bass that inhabit that portion of the river. High, fast water made smallmouth fishing impossible, but a good trout bite late in the day salvaged the first trip.

Our second visit was in June, but again the river was too high and fast for smallmouth fishing. A side trip into Sylamore Creek late in the evening saved that trip when, down to our last strike, we got into a topwater slugfest with roaming schools of smallmouths.

They were fun, but those fish were not nearly as big and brawny as White River smallmouths.

I desperately wanted to relive the fantastic smallmouth fishing that Alan Thomas and I enjoyed in 2006 between Boswell Shoal and the Mount Olive Access. That was on a hot summer day before minimum flow was established on the White River below Bull Shoals Dam. There was scarcely any hydropower current, and the White River was the best stops on that year's Summer Smallmouth Tour.

I've raved about it endlessly with Tucker, and Monday had all of the elements necessary for a smallmouth home run derby. Bull Shoals Dam was running less than one full hydropower generator of current, so the river was low and slow. The temperature was hot and humid, but also cloudy as thunderstorms moved through the area. I brashly predicted the fishing would be epic.

Fueling my confidence was the fact I finally had all of my equipment in top working order. I resurrected a trolling motor that had been dysfunctional all summer, and I believed it would allow us to thoroughly work the best smallmouth holes.

We launched at the Sylamore Access and sped upriver to Boswell Shoal, outrunning an angry cloud bank that chased us for several miles before cutting across the river behind us. When we arrived, I burned off some pent up adrenaline by casting a rainbow trout colored spoon. I got a strike immediately from a decent sized fish that fought differently than a rainbow trout. It got off the line before I could identify it.

To my dismay, the nominal current was still too fast. On its highest setting, my 40-pound thrust Minn-Kota trolling motor made only slight headway, and we blew past the first good smallmouth banks.

Meanwhile, gentle showers came and went. A long, thin fog ribbon boiled up from the surface and undulated like a dragon's tail. As we drifted, the fog rolled up and curled down the river like a long finger beckoning us to follow.

Finally, we eased into an eddy behind a rock formation, and I tied the boat to a downed tree stretching over the water. Tucker threw a big lizard whose color scheme most closely resembled "electric chicken," a popular grub color among crappie fishermen. Tucker grumbled about repeatedly snagging in the rocks.

"If you're not getting hung up, you're not fishing in the right places," I said.

Tucker finally got a bite. To our delight, it was a smallmouth.

White River smallies look different than any I've seen anywhere else. In most places, even at Sylamore Creek, they are brown and bronze, often with tiger stripes.

Tucker's White River smallie was almost golden, and it gleamed like a curio from King Midas' tackle box. Shortly after, I caught one, too.

I caught two more late, including one at the spot above Boswell Shoal where I got the day's first strike. It also bit the rainbow trout colored spoon, and it made me suspect the first fish was a smallmouth, too. The last one bit a Zoom Mini Lizard beside a boulder.

Again, trout again rescued the day. As afternoon morphed into evening, the rainbows got active, and I caught a succession of 14-inch fish on a trout colored Yo-Zuri thin minnow plug. It's an attractive lure that runs too shallow for my taste, and it does not have a good jerking action. It looks best on a straight slow retrieve, but I like to snap it lightly after a slight hesitation. Almost all of the trout I caught bit after the hesitation.

One exception was an 18-inch rainbow that struck like a sports car running a stop sign. My rod tip slammed toward the water, and the drag squalled like a tabby in a catfight. Had the drag not been set properly, the fish would have broken the line on the strike.

The rainbow went airborne immediately and treated us to a splendid acrobatic demonstration. Tucker netted the fish, and we rejoiced as it swam away.

Still, I lamented our lack of smallmouth fishing success, and the answer dawned on me as we drove back home.

In 2006, Alan Thomas and I fished that stretch in canoes. We held steady in every eddy and fished them exhaustively, casting at every rock from every angle. You get very familiar very fast with a river that way, and when the bass finally turned on, we were tuned and ready for them.

Matthew Eldridge, one of the best stream fishermen I know, fishes that way, and he always catches big fish. The longer I thought about it, the more I realized how badly I misplayed the hand.

In my War Eagle, Tucker and I mostly drifted and hit cover as we passed. We didn't give it a chance.

The river tried to tell us when we caught the first two smallmouths while we were tied to a tree in the eddy.

I missed the hint.

Sports on 07/22/2018

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