24 Norfork, Ark. On the beach just visiting round.

So what was I to do? The water was still dropping in the White. But the North Fork was putting out a strong current. I had only limited experience with Norfork Dam so I didn’t have any idea as to how long they would keep generating. When I turned into the North Fork to make my run up onto the gravel ramp, the current pushed the little boat back toward the White. I had to use a lot more throttle than expected just to keep my course.
The wide gravel beach that had once been the launching ramp for the area was now secondary. It had been replaced by a new handicap-equipped, concrete ramp with handrails and a wheelchair swing. But it looked like most people were continuing to use the old method of backing down the gravel riverbank. I guess it was easier to turn around than in the new high dollar ramp. The folks who came to the “beach” to fish were able to find parking just a few feet from where they were fishing.

The ramp was located at the confluence of the two rivers. The water from the North Fork is extremely cold since it is only five miles or so from the dam release point. I understand from some of the locals that the Game and Fish Commission stocks this location fairly often. Needless to say we are in the heart of some of the finest trout fishing in the entire world. The “beach” is a favored fishing spot for the local folks who want to wade, fish from the bank or put their boats in the river. 

When both the White and the North Fork were down, the fly fishermen could wade and fish from the mouth as if it were dry land. People were casting the White from the confluence shallows as if they were in a boat. The fish that were used to traveling back and forth from one river to the other now had to pass within feet of these fishermen. On this Sunday night, fishing was good and there seemed to be a lot of young couples. I had assumed trout fishing was a male thing. I was wrong big time. There were ladies with and without male companions. They knew what they were doing and were more than keeping up with their male counterparts.

I thought this couple togetherness has to be a good thing. Young couples starting out fishing together in a wonderful setting. Good traditions will make good  people. Good people will make good families. Good families make good children. Good children make good adults. Good grown-ups make a good nation. It’s a cycle that should be promoted rather than degraded by Hollyweird.
Fly fishermen next to the spinning rigs, next to the bass reel cats, it just didn’t matter here where the line hits the water, all were in harmony with the day.  The sun sank and the day ended that way. The little canoe was pulled up as high on the bank as I could get it. The anchor was set out nearly twenty feet up hill. I had one of those el cheapo folding chairs and kicked back to enjoy the late afternoon light. I decided to drink a cold bottle of water and shoot a picture or two as the sun descended on what had been a beautiful day. 

After I got a few river at sunset shots, I put the camera gear away. As I fiddled with the boat storage bags, a couple drove up and parked near where I was working. When they got out they carried pizza boxes instead of fishing rods. Hmm. Now this is a different approach. I got my cold water and sat back down in the shade. It was still hotter than a firecracker. The two of them came to within a few feet of where I was sitting and sat down on the grass. They were going to have their pizza picnic next to the river. 

The man was a big old boy, way bigger than me. I figured he was over six-four and pushed three hundred. The woman was about his age both somewhere in their thirties. They were both very outgoing. She said she was from Chicago but I don’t think I ever caught where he grew up. They asked if I would like a piece of pizza. When they opened the two big boxes the smell swept over me like Napoli’s back in Garland. Before we were through I had eaten three slices of the pie. I had no idea I was so hungry. I had plenty of food in the can. I had planned on heating up some Dinty Moore beef stew in a few minutes. This was some of the best darned pizza I had ever eaten. The couple said it was from some little shop near the bridge in Cotter. I asked if it was a pizza joint and they said no it was something else like a hamburger stand. You never know the talents of a tiny community till you stop.

The couple began to tell me their story. They wanted to start a shuttle business and were visiting Norfork and trying to work up a little business. I would have used them had I not known about Cotter Trout Dock beforehand. The man, David Wells, was an injured railroad construction workman. My great-grandfather had been a section foreman on the L & N in Tennessee. We spoke of gandy dancers and my Irish side’s four-generation railroad history. The two of them had fallen in love with these hills and this river. They bought a little place way back in the hills. The place had no electricity but they were working on it. They really loved the way they were living and you could see they felt there was a future in the float fishermen. I did too. I encouraged them to stay at it by visiting all the outfitters and asking to subcontract out some of the shuttle work. 

Here was another case of people who wanted to make a life for themselves away from the corporate world. David apparently did not enjoy what he was doing and his wife just wanted the independent life of working for herself. As they finished their pizza and got ready to leave, I thanked them and told them to keep after it. I told them if they believed in their dream enough and worked hard it would happen. I sincerely hope they get to live the life they have chosen. They seemed like a nice couple.
After the folks left I kept thinking of Jon Fogerty’s line about “people on the river are happy to give, big wheel keep on turning, Proud Mary keep on burning, rollin, rollin on the river.” Don’t forget the little canoe is named after the fictitious or real steam boat in the same Fogerty song. I know a lot of you young whippersnappers think “Proud Mary” is a Tina Turner song. The reason your ten-year music generation thinks that is because Tina Turner sang it in a way that made it a signature song for her as well as Credence Clearwater Revival. Some singers can do that every now and again but only Patsy Cline could do it every time.
When I say ten-year music generation I might be a little off. It could be fifteen-year generations. My theory is that most people really listen to new music  for only a few years of their lives. I don’t mean to confuse a human generation with what I call a music generation. 

For example, had you been in Junior High in 1964 when the Beatles made it big,you would have been somewhere in the neighborhood of twelve to fifteen years of age. I would assume you would have followed the music and other popular tunes of an era spanning about fifteen years. Let’s say twelve plus fifteen, that would put you right into twenty-seven to thirty age range. Now what are young adults that age typically doing with their lives? Babies and careers leave very little time for new music appreciation. People begin to lose interest in new music and start to settle into a special interest genre. They begin to turn off top forty and hunt for stations that cater to their established preferential palates. Now we have a serious anthropological reason for satellite radio to succeed. That is exactly what Sirius and XM are offering. “Your” music on demand no matter who you are or what you enjoy.
The sunset had been nothing less than spectacular. As I sat in my little folding chair, I watched the old sun ball drop into the river. The water turned a bright gold more like a bright yellow.  As the sun sunk deeper into the horizon the water turned a darker gold and finally the light show ended with an orange river. Then she was gone till the morning. Neat huh?