MOUNT IDA -- Monday's fishing trip to the Ouachita River was a double do-over.
Its objective was to correct the first two misfires to catch walleyes in the thin water far above Lake Ouachita. The first occurred on Feb. 20, when thick ice from bank to bank prevented Chris Larson's jet boat from traveling beyond the Arkansas 27 bridge. That was such a pity because the river above the lake looked perfect for fishing. The level and flow were just right, and the water was clear with a greenish tint.
The water temperature might have limited our chances for success, though. It was still in the 30s, with big chunks of ice floating downstream. Shawn Miller, who killed the biggest black bear ever taken in Arkansas, is an expert on that part of the Ouachita River. He said it is pointless to fish it until the water reaches at least 50 degrees.
The second debacle occurred on March 4 during an attempt with Rusty Pruitt of Bryant. We took my little square-stern Michi-Craft aluminum canoe and my Honda 2-horsepower four-stroke outboard motor. I put together that combination especially for fishing in this kind of environment. With two people in the canoe, the motor at its lowest throttle setting runs the perfect speed for trolling stickbaits.
When you encounter rapids, the rig is light enough for you to get out and pull it upstream to the next pool, so there's nothing you can't fish in low water.
As Pruitt and I approached the undeveloped access spot, I vocalized a short checklist.
"Net? Dadgummit, I got the net out of the garage and then left it leaning against the fence."
A net is important to land walleyes, and even more important to land striped bass. Oh, well, it happens.
"Lifejackets? Check. Wading boots and waders? Check."
"Paddle?"
I said words a bit stronger than "dadgummit." I left the paddle leaning against the fence beside the net.
"We won't need a paddle," I said. "We've got a motor."
Shear pins were not on my checklist. They should have been.
Pruitt and I made it to the first set of rapids above the access. The current was so fast that the throttle was almost full open to make headway. The prop hit a rock with a loud bang, and the RPMs raced as headway ceased. The shear pin broke, and the trip was finished before it began. We used tackleboxes to paddle back to the bank so we could walk the boat back to the access.
Pulling the canoe by its bow rope downstream, an angler with a familiar face walked along the bank heading upstream. We locked eyes.
"Didn't I meet you here last year?" I asked.
It was Charles Lowe of Oden, who stayed very late last year to make sure I returned safely from a motorized sortie upstream. He was fishing for white bass, but said they had not yet arrived in great numbers.
That evening I ordered five shear pins off Ebay and installed a new one as soon as it arrived. I stashed two extras on the motor, and I also changed the gear oil in the lower unit.
This section of river also happens to be very dear to Michael Flippo of Hot Springs. On March 17, Flippo invited Ray Tucker and I to fish with him. Tucker, who hasn't fished in over a year to avoid exposure to covid-19, jumped at the chance.
To my great relief and satisfaction, the motor started on the third pull and purred. Tucker took a seat near the bow while Flippo drove to a place to meet us upstream.
Because it is so small, the Michi-Craft is a very cramped ride, especially for the person at the bow, because it has virtually no leg room. Experiencing leg cramps, Tucker asked to be put ashore on a gravel bar at the top of a productive walleye hole. He fished from the bank while I trolled upstream and down.
Though still quite swift, the water was a little too low for my liking. My stickbait bounced along the bottom everywhere except in the deepest holes. Trolling downstream was too fast, but even with a tailwind, trolling speed was about right going upstream into the current.
Right where I expected it, I felt the repetitive tug of a walleye and set the hook by gently sweeping my rod forward. I did not get another bite, so I picked up Tucker and resumed the trip upstream to a place called Striper Corner.
Tucker experienced more leg cramps during that trip, so he was grateful for another shore leave at the big gravel bar beneath the tumbling rapid at Striper Corner.
Flippo, who was grateful for the company, brought minnows, which we used on stationary bottom rigs in the big pool below the rapids. I caught a puny smallmouth bass on the first cast. Subsequent minnows went unbothered, so I resumed fishing with a stickbait, which attracted attention from some of the white bass swimming in that hole.
All of the white bass that I caught were larger than average and very plump. The biggest was a 3-pounder that I caught and released in the hole above the rapid. In the clear water I also noticed at least one walleye and two Kentucky bass follow my stickbait to the end of its respective retrieves. Other fish followed, as well, but they spun and swam away before I could identify them.
I hooked one fish below the Striper Corner rapid that might have been a striper. It struck the stickbait and hesitated when I set the hook. Feeling line pressure, it ran across the pool in the powerful but relaxed pace of a striper. It took line off the drag and bowed the rod, but got loose before I could press the fight.
At that time, two kayakers and a canoeist arrived. One of the kayakers was Brett Hobbs, a fisheries biologist for the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission. Hobbs caught and released a white bass in our presence and said that his group caught two walleyes farther upriver.
At about 3 p.m., the fishing shut down. Tucker and I made several passes through the walleye hole below Striper Corner before declaring victory.
I am pleased to report that nothing was lost or broken during the trip. For me this year, that's reason to celebrate.