I do not know what to make of the Ouachita River.
In years past, we that chase walleyes and striped bass in the river above Lake Ouachita operated on a dependable timetable. When rainfall swelled the river above the first set of shoals at the fall line, male walleyes ascended the river as far as high water allowed in the first two weeks of February. The big females followed, and we began catching them right about now.
Stripers came up about a week later, and we caught stripers and walleyes together until the dogwoods bloomed. That's when the white bass arrived in the upper river and signaled the end of the walleye/striper run.
The pattern has been severely disrupted the last two years. I never did get on a good bite in 2019, and 2020 is looking about the same. Earlier in the week, Chris Larson of Maumelle recently ran all the way to River Bluff and caught only freshwater drum and a few bass.
Recently, Bill Eldridge, Ed Kubler and I ran up the river to try our luck in the wake of a seemingly endless string of storms. We took Eldridge's Xpress bass boat powered by a 70-horsepower Yamaha outboard motor. There was no fall line. The water was high enough for an unhindered path all the way to High Shoal. Nevertheless, we stopped to fish below the normal fall line where a deep, rocky cut follows the bank next to a wide flat. That's usually where I catch stripers in mid-February and also where I start catching big walleyes.
Anchored on the flat was a party barge. Two anglers were soaking minnows. As we idled close, I signaled thumbs up or thumbs down. They signaled down.
"You boys having any luck?" asked one of the men.
"We don't even have anything to lie about," I replied, prompting a laugh.
We continued upriver as Eldridge monitored his depth finder. The holes were were about 10-12 feet deep. The narrow runs were about 3 feet deep. We reached High Shoal quickly but determined the best fishing would be at a wide bend called Striper Corner.
"There's two big shoals between here and there," I said. "If we can get up there, I think it could be really, really good."
Another boat was in the High Shoal pool, and its occupants were incredulous as Eldridge's prop dug into the rocks. It was too shallow to run, so the three of us got out and pulled the boat through the shoal by hand and line. We congratulated ourselves for having the foresight to wear waders.
We motored up to the next shoal, a long, swift cascade over chunk rock. We were halfway through when Eldridge's prop dug into the rocks anew.
"We won't be pulling through this one," I said. "It's too fast and too deep."
Eldridge, who is usually very protective of his equipment, was undeterred. He'd come this far, and he would not leave without fishing Striper Corner.
"Trim it up until the prop is flush with the surface," I shouted above the roar of the water.
"Get on the bow with Ed and see if the extra weight will pull the stern up a little higher," Eldridge ordered.
I joined Kubler on the bow as Eldridge trimmed up the motor. The prop stayed above the riverbed and soon we popped into the deep water of the Powerline Hole.
"This is where the good fishing starts," I said. "There's a line of big rocks in some deep water above here. Let's troll all the way to the Corner."
This we did without getting a bite. About 20 minutes later, we beached the boat at Striper Corner. The water had a clearing brownish tint. There was no junk in the water to snag lures, so the conditions were excellent for fishing. Eldridge fished at the bottom of the shoal. Kubler fished the middle of the shoal, and I fished the fast, narrow run above the shoal where Eldridge and I caught stripers and walleyes in 2018. Eldridge caught the only fish, a Kentucky bass.
Discouraged, we reconvened below the shoal.
"Either they're not here or they're just not biting," I said. "As much water as there is, they could be up even farther, maybe to River Bluff."
We trolled back and forth between Striper Corner and the bottom of Powerline Hole several times without a bite until we started running out of daylight. I continued trolling as Eldridge navigated through the Prop Grinder Shoal, and that's where I caught the fish of the day, a 15-inch smallmouth bass.
"It's always a good day when you catch a smallmouth," Eldridge said. "There's a lot worse ways to spend a day."
Only back at the ramp did Eldridge start fretting about his prop.
"It's only a flesh wound," I said, imitating the Black Knight from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.
"Sometimes you have to sacrifice to get to the best spots," Eldridge said. He meant it, too.
Sports on 02/27/2020