Saturday evening was a glorious time for my kayak and I to visit an old friend before it goes away on an extended sabbatical.
I write of Lake Conway, one of the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission's oldest assets and the nation's largest lake owned by a state wildlife management agency. The Game and Fish Commission is draining the 6,700-acre lake in Faulkner County to prepare for its renovation. Last week, the commission suspended daily creel limits for fish at the lake, enabling anglers to remove as many of its fish as possible for consumption.
Also, the commission tagged 50 fish of six species. An angler that catches a tagged fish is eligible to receive a cash prize.
The possibility of catching a money fish provided an additional incentive to visit the lake that has been a big part of my life since I was a child in the 1970s. The late Leo "Daddy" Coffman of Little Rock taught me how to use a spinnerbait on Lake Conway in 1990. That was the same night I first used a baitcasting reel. It was my first baitcaster, a Quantum 1310 MG. We fished at night, a terrible time to use a baitcaster for the first time. I spent much of the night picking out backlashes.
Coffman was true to his word. He called everyone "Daddy." He said, "Daddy, I'm gonna show you how to fish a spinnerbait."
That's exactly what he did. Coffman "showed" me how to fish a spinnerbait. He positioned the boat so that only he could cast at the best spots. After he worked them over thoroughly and caught all of the fish, he positioned the boat so that I had an angle.
"Daddy, throw in there and catch you a fish!"
As if there were any left to catch. It was one of the longest nights of my life, but it was instructive.
Now, Lake Conway is going away for about five years. It's sediment-laden bottom will settle and compact in the sun, restoring some of the lake's diminished water holding capacity. The commission will build a new dam and create a lot of new fish habitat. When all that is done, the commission will stock the lake with bluegill, bass and catfish. It should be a respectable bass fishery again in about 10 years.
ON THE WATER
A cool snap had settled across Central Arkansas last weekend. It felt like early October, cool with mild humidity.
I backed my pickup down the ramp at the Dix Creek Access and slid my Hobie Pro Angler 12 out of the bed and into the water with a resounding splash. I installed the Mirage Drive fins and arranged three baitcasting rigs in the rod holders. One was rigged with a Texas-rigged, soft plastic crawfish imitator. One had a topwater lure, and the third had a stickbait. Those three would cover the entire water column.
A fellow fishing from a nearby pier said he said he caught five bass, the largest weighing about 3 pounds. As he spoke, a bass smashed a minnow on the surface almost within tackling distance.
I adjusted the seat and paddled away in the waning hours of a lovely day.
Had I really wanted to catch fish, I would also have brought an ultralight spinning rig and some crickets for bream. The big bay at the Dix Creek Access is one of my favorite bream fishing spots in Arkansas. I was after bass, however, so I pedaled my craft toward a line of small cypress islands skirted by grassbeds and lily pads.
Aquatic vegetation has overtaken large parts of Lake Conway in recent years, making large portions inaccessible and unfishable. There is a healthy mix of vegetation and open water in this part of the lake, and I immediately regretted not bringing soft plastic frogs to retrieve across the grass and pads.
En route to my target area, I trolled a Luck-E-Strike Rick Clunn stickbait. It didn't take long to get a strike. The fish fought hard, and I enjoyed the battle against what turned out to be a 3-pound freshwater drum.
Nearby, Brandon Endel had the same idea. He pitched a jig among the trees and along grass lines and brush lines. He said fishing conditions were good. Draining the lake created a constant current that triggered fish to feed. They just weren't feeding at that particular time, Endel lamented.
Shortly after, my stickbait stabbed an underwater stump. My momentum broke the line before I could brake with a paddle and go back to retrieve it. That really rankled me. That's my best trout fishing lure, and, evidently, my best drum-catching lure.
I continued to the far side of the cove to a phlanx of trees whose branches hang like a curtain over the water. Inside the curtain is a veritable shooting gallery of fallen logs and brush. Checking the canopy carefully for snakes, I nosed my bow through the curtain and pitched my crawdad imitator at every target. That's a tricky cast to make from a sitting position, but I have a lot of practice.
My casts were immaculate. The only reason they didn't produce bites is because nothing was there to bite them. It appeared all of the fish were in open water chasing bait on the surface. The fish I saw didn't appear to be bass, though. They looked like crappie. Yes, crappie do chase things on the surface, but they don't hit topwater lures the way bass do.
Notably, I did not get a single backlash. Daddy Leo would have approved.
INTO THE NIGHT
With the sun setting, I pedaled out into the open lake. The banks there have even more and better cover. Again, my casts were championship quality, but again either bass were not suitably impressed or there were none present to bite.
Meanwhile, my Mirage Drive propulsion fins constantly slammed into submerged stumps unseen beneath the surface, stopping my Hobie on a dime. I took heed after the first collision and pedaled slowly.
As the sun dipped behind the hills, I looked behind me at the peak of Pinnacle Mountain in the distance. Lights from shoreside homes twinkled in the falling dusk as the waterside world fell into its summer evening slide toward bedtime.
It was peaceful and nice. I will miss it, and I intend to visit often.
The sun sets behind a lone cypress tree Saturday at Lake Conway. (Arkansas Democrat-Gazette/Bryan Hendricks)