#25 An evening in Norfork, Arkansas

Sleep Sometimes is Easier Said than Done.

It’s still a fairly warm evening; the rounded little river stones are doing a good job of retaining the days’ heat. The water is doing its best to cool the air but the sun was still winning the battle. I was still in a holding mode. I was ready for bed but there were still too many folks fishing and for some reason I had begun to notice cruisers driving through the parking lot/beach.

I decided if I couldn’t beat them I would join in the fishing. But, and I say but, I was not going to take the canoe out and anchor with the boaters. My rear had had all the boat seat it could take for one day. I got my long spinning rod and walked down to where my cast would carry out to the current. The bait was a Mepps of some sort but definitely a yellow spinner attached to a two-pound clear line. The reel was the smallest of the Penn spinning reel series. I had splurged on the rod and was very proud of the idea behind the purchase. I was going to fight troutzilla on a spinning rig that felt like a fly rod set up. The long Loomis was a crappie fishing special. It was about nine and a half feet long and only broke down into two pieces. It was hard to bait and tend to in a small boat but great on the land casting situations. Even broken down and in the nice case, the outfit was too long for canoes and camping situations. But man, did it feel good in your hand.

With this rig in hand, I marched down the beach fully confident that I and only I could do battle with monster troutzilla. The reason of course was that I was bringing the right equipment to the fight. In other words, like every other fisherman or fisherwoman on that beach I thought I had it figured out. I thought that one last trip to the fishing store had set me up for the big win. If gadgets would catch fish, I should have had a boat full. I can tell you right now I still don’t have this fishing thing figured out. Maybe I will get someone in the boat someday who has a semblance of an idea as to what the hell I am supposed to do to catch trout.

I stood near some people and flipped the lure out trying to mimic what the others were doing. Apparently I had arrived just as the fish had migrated to southern Patagonia or some damn place. As far as I know I must be the trigger that sends the whole school into migration mode. It just has to be, because they go somewhere every time they see me coming with fishing pole in hand.

I piddled with the fishing until the stragglers begin to thin out. Dark was approaching and even the diehards were giving up on what had been a perfect Sunday by the river. Now most would go home, eat a late supper, go to bed and wake up to face a brand new work week.

Others, the old loners like myself, were going back to the hotel rooms or RV parks or maybe a café for a quick bite before bed. They would be on the river tomorrow or on the road home one of the two. I ran into quite a few of these gents. Most were married, but the spouses had other interests and stayed back in Chicago, Dallas, Memphis, St. Louis or on the Kansas farm. This was a vacation from life. They were on a real road trip with a purpose. This river was something to dream about when times were bad or slow. They were an interesting lot, these men. I enjoyed the few chats I had with them. Every one seemed to have a story of hard work and dreams gone by and now they were here in the evening heat after a gorgeous sunset. Things were going A-OK.

I loved the cold water for one major reason. No mosquitoes could live in it. The other bane of the camper the “no see’ums” seemed to live everywhere I had ever set up a tent my entire life. Here I would have no tent or jungle hammock due to the no camping on access areas rules. I had been told all the land along this part of the river was private. I didn’t seem to have a choice as far as I knew. Supposedly there were no campgrounds near the river so there I was breaking the law as inconspicuously as possible.

When it was good and dark, I pulled out my cot and sleeping bag. Once again, I pulled the boat up as far as I could. The water looked to be rising so I tied the boat rope to my cot just in case I needed a wake up later that night. The cot was placed less than twenty feet up the slight rise from the canoe. If the thing started to float off I wanted to be the first to know it. I would just reel it in and drag it higher ashore. No problem.

The real problem came as I crawled into my sleeping bag. I would not be able to sleep for constantly looking at the river to see if the boat was about to do a bon voyage on me. The water was staying fairly constant from the White River side and was quite low. The Norfork Dam was still putting out a strong stream and my concern was the White would start a rapid rise like the seven gates I had seen on my last trip and both the canoe and I would be floating.

A light mist began to rise as dark enclosed the little beach. I had not had to deal with the fog all day coming down the White. I did have to drag the bottom of the boat over rocks and gravel bars. The look of some of those shoals was completely different at low water. I had to learn how to read the water. This trip, there were sharp rocks right underneath those waves and ripples. The motor’s health and life span depended on reading correctly. Last time the high water was a completely different read. I could see boils and swirls but the read was to keep your boat upright and out of any kind of trouble mostly from the current’s power. The rocks might have been further under the water but the mishap would be a much more dangerous situation. Fast water causes fast consequences.

I see in my notes where I tried to mark all the shoals with the GPS. However there were some shoals that were so long I couldn’t tell where one ended and another started. I probably marked them wrong but who could predict how the river would look from one day to the next. I couldn’t. I think I was maybe more impressed with Buffalo Shoals this time. But then when you see the actual rocks sticking out of the water, almost any of them tend to impress the novice.