A Branson Adventure

Part of the fun in any trip is the adventure itself; Saturday, October 11 found me, my dad and my buddy Frank Terkhorn on our way west…not Montana west, but Branson, Missouri west. We loaded up my camper with about as much fly-fishing garb as possible, several dozen of Miss Kay’s chocolate chip cookies (Miss Kay belongs to Frank…or maybe the other way around) and in about 10 total hours found ourselves pulling into Table Rock State Park; it would be our home for the next six days.

If you were to say Branson to most folks they would answer you with, “What show are you going to watch while you are there”? The truth is that within a 60 mile radius there is more awesome fishable water than just about anywhere…with the exception of Montana, by the way MO is about 20 hours closer than MT!

Sunday, October 11 found the three of us up very early, headed east on highway 160 toward the little town of Tecumseh, Missouri. Our destination on the day would be the North Fork of the White River. It may just be my favorite Missouri river because it is almost entirely comprised of cold, clear water that flows from various springs as it heads from north to south towards Arkansas.

The river itself is quite unique; the upper stretch down to The Blair Bridge Access is mostly a rainbow trout fishery…in fact it is the only naturally reproducing fishery for rainbows in the state. Once below Blair Bridge you will find mostly, almost entirely brown trout. In fact the river ebbs and flows all the way down and through Dawt Mill and eventually enters Norfork Lake just north of Arkansas. The North Fork of the White actually begins a long ways north in the Mark Twain National Forest and for many miles parallels Bryant Creek which is its warmer water twin that eventually meets up with The North Fork just north of Dawt Mill.

We turned north on PP and made our way north to Highway H, took a quick left, then another quick right on county road 354 and dropped down into a scenic Ozark setting. We would take the next half hour inflating our Creek Company Voyager float tubes, then readying all of our equipment, before shoving off from Blair Bridge…where we would float south on the river and in a few hours meet dad (aka our pick-up man) at The Patrick Bridge Access.

The water was up and flowing hard; it was also stained. This might sound like a bad deal but in reality it is the kind of water quality that I actually like as it allows me to get closer to the big fish than at those times when the water is too clear. I told Frank that we might not catch a lot of fish but the conditions were perfect for us to catch a big fish. As we worked our way from rock to rock and pool to pool I must admit that I was fishing with a buzz…I knew that at any point one of us could hook into a real trophy.

I hadn’t gone but a few minutes when I felt a thump on the end of my 6-weight sink-tip fly line; a quick strip set and I had landed my fist fish of the day, a cute little 11 inch brown trout. By the time we were about halfway down the run and had traversed two big white water chutes…the river turned into a slow-meandering spring creek. Something just felt right, it is hard to explain but I really can tell when I am not only fishing well but when I ‘sense’ that I am about to land a lunker. I made a long cast and placed my chartreuse fly just past a large boulder; I made one quick strip and could feel the jolt on the other end. I tightened up and began to fight a fish…at this point I simply didn’t know what I had on the other end, but assumed it was another brown. I was patient…not wanting to stress any or all of my knots; seconds passed and as the fish got closer to the boat I became more and more curious as to what I had on the other end. The water was stained enough that I really didn’t have a clue…right up to the point that a big, dark, smallmouth bass exploded up and leapt out of the water just feet in front of me. A few more powerful strips and I was able to reach down and lip what was obviously a big buck smallie as it had a large kype (button like knot on the end of its’ lower jaw). It was the best fish of the day and quite an Ozark trophy.

By the time Frank and I made our way down to meet dad we were both a bit tuckered as it was a tough day battling high water that was flowing quite high while trying to cast a fly rod the entire way. As I rounded the last bend and could see the low-maintenance bridge that spanned the river…I could see dad standing and looking our way. He had just had a conversation with another local fisherman who told him that the bridge he was standing on…it was under water less than 24 hours earlier!

We had timed it perfectly…we caught the river on its way down; we were fishing one of the premier Missouri rivers at a time when the fall foliage was nearing its peak and even managed to land a real trophy fish. As we turned south on PP we made a quick pit-stop at Dawt Mill which turned out to be the icing on the cake for our day. We were the only ones in the restaurant and enjoyed one of the best corned-beef sandwiches I have ever had…all while watching and listening to the White River flow by, over and through the 150 year old Dawt Mill.

It had indeed been a special adventure; did we catch loads of fish…no! What we had done was drink in the scenery of an area that is draped in beauty all while sharing the company and camaraderie of two good friends and a father and son. It is days exactly like this that make being in nature so special and so easy to Enjoy the Great Outdoors.