When things start to warm up in the Spring, I get the itch to start fishing the creeks again. One lunch break in late February of this year I got out and had a pretty fun time catching a variety of different fish – none of which were the original target fish. Early Spring is when the sacalait start to move shallow and I had it in my mind they may be doing that in this creek that runs through a park not far from my old workplace. It seems all the other species were active however and I’m pretty good at making lemons from lemonade.
The white woolly bugger was my sacalait fly of choice, but I soon switched to a smaller fly that David Rogers had given me, a golden retriever. Very similar to a woolly bugger, this one was a bit smaller though than what I had been throwing and I think that size turned out to be just the ticket. Or maybe it was the pattern, I don’t know, either way I was knocking out Jambalaya Challenge species early with a green sunfish, redspotted sunfish, warmouth, and longear sunfish turning up. I’d soon have the opportunity to level up so to speak when I caught a glimpse of a big largemouth cruising the same waters as the other fish. I made a few casts into the depths of a deep spot hoping he’d chase my fly and eat or at least come into a position where I could sight fish him. It just so happened that after one of my casts he appeared in a perfect position for me to strip my fly in a fleeing run away from him and that triggered a lunging strike! After a short fight I slipped down the creek bank and dragged him to my feet – it was the nicest creek bass I’ve caught in a while and a great fish to start the Spring fishing season!
Note: I wrote this piece late last year and held onto it, foolishly thinking someone else may want to publish it. I don’t think that’s happening so now is a great time to let it loose.
I really enjoy the time that I spend fishing upland streams, far from my home, where the water is clean, clear, and filled with life. I often seek out creeks that are off the beaten path, sometimes deep in the woods; places that give you a feeling that perhaps you’re the first person to fish here, maybe not ever, but in a very long time. Those are special places to me.
The places I have locally are not those types of places. Sure, there are creeks that are an hour or more away that may fit the bill and illicit those same feelings, but the ones I’m referring to as local, those within a few miles or minutes of my house, are a far cry from what I would consider the ideal stream for an immersive fly fishing experience.
These are drainage ditches. Brownlines to me because that’s often what they look like. The quality of the water is probably closer to that of a sewer line than an upland stream. They are not places you would want to step in if you had an open wound and you certainly don’t want to wet your line with your mouth when tying on a new fly. Sure they are little blue lines on a map, but these streams and bayous have been altered by man, with no thought given to what lives in and around the water. Their design is one of purpose and function and not one of form. They carry water away from metropolitan areas and take it somewhere out of sight and out of mind for the majority of the population. They make the news when the rain falls too hard for too long and suddenly these streams end up in your backyard and people remember they are there. When they are tame they are forgotten places. The trash that lines their banks tells that story. These are places very few people care about and for the longest time I was one of those people.
I ignored fishing these places because frankly there wasn’t much of an appeal. I had time to travel a little further and fish somewhere more “worthy of my presence”. Life has a funny way of changing things though and as my family has grown, time has gotten tighter, and over the past few years I’ve been forced to fish closer to home. Over time I’ve come to appreciate the brownlines. There is beauty in them if you’re willing to overlook the ugly on the surface. I’m sure there’s a metaphor there for people too.
I’ve discovered a handful of places around town over the past few years that have become some of my go-to spots now, mainly in the interest of time, but also because they’ve proven themselves to be productive little fisheries. These are ditches where you can walk the banks, not feel like you’re right in someone’s yard, and not sink in soupy mud. Creeks where the water actually has a decent amount of visibility to it. There aren’t many places around here like that and I continue to search for ones that stand out.
Back in August I finally made time one Friday afternoon for a ditch that I drive over and always take an extra long look as I pass.
I’m glad I made the time too because it ended up being loaded with some of my favorite sunfish, longear, and they were in full spawning regalia.
I was able to fool a couple largemouth hanging around, but passed on the chance to fight a big spotted gar on light tackle.
It was a good enough time that I made it back out there the next Friday to walk the banks in the other direction. The little largemouth were still very active, but I ran into some other usual ditch denizens as well.
Green sunfish
With four bridges on this ditch in less than a creek mile there’s no mistaking this for one of those upland streams I love to fish. The constant hum of traffic and the trash lined banks made that very clear. With the pictures though I do hope to convey that despite their surface appearance these ditches do have life in them and the greenspace they provide to wildlife is important in our urban/suburban environment. Someone needs to show love for these places and the fish that call them home.
Redspotted sunfish
I ended the day with a nice little mixed bag and a new appreciation for a ditch around the corner from my house.
While walking the bank back to the truck I thought about how nice it would be if my fellow Baton Rouge residents actually cared about their waterways and the floodplains they run through. If parks were developed with sidewalks and paths that ran along the stream to provide access and recreational opportunity. It would be a resource for the public. It would also make them suddenly visible for all to see. Then maybe the litter problem would be forced into their consciousness when they realize they don’t want their greenspaces to look like a landfill, which is often the experience when you spend time on the drainage ditches that run through our city. I see the potential to turn these ditches from brownlines into bluelines, I just wish others did as well.
After driving north through the Ouachita Mountains and the Arkansas River valley we made it to our next destination with daylight to spare. At an overlook we got to see the river we’d get a chance to fish over the next couple days, it was as it looks in a summer time aerial image, low and teal in color. A sign told us the color was due to the high mineral content in the water. Large quantities of sulfur, manganese, and iron combined with the sediment load carried in the water causes it to appear aqua in color. We continued on and got camp set up fast to walk down to the river and try our luck.
Chucking spinning rods it didn’t take long to get into fish. The big green sunfish were ever present on this river as on the last, but so were the juvenile Neosho smallmouth. We were able to catch a few before it got dark. I even managed to catch a rock bass, a fish I haven’t caught since I spent some time in the Tennessee River watershed in North Alabama. This river was quite different than the last, far less elevation change, no more big boulders, but tons of gravel. Big long gravel bars along big long pools, not many fast flowing sections. A tougher place to fly fish due to the slow water, but we’d give it a shot tomorrow. I wasn’t too worried about tomorrow at this point, I was looking forward to dinner. The NY strip, onions, and potatoes that were made on the cast iron pot were incredible. I think we are getting better at camp cooking, even with interruption from dive bombing cicadas.
The next day was spent dodging rain showers and spot hopping along the river. There were several access points upstream of where we camped that we checked out. We fished at a few of them and probably should have spent more time at some rather than others, but that’s the joys of scouting. It was nice to have a road alongside the river for much of the way, the only slight annoyance was when the large groups of ATVs drove by. We must have been near some major OHV trails with the amount of ATV traffic that was in the area. The fishing was pretty good, no real big fish, mostly smallmouth with some spots and sunfish mixed in. There were plenty to keep us interested though which was nice.
After lunch we drove up to the local general store to have a look around. The Ozarks seem to have no shortage of these types of places. We each got a slice of caramel apple pie a la mode that may have been the real highlight of the trip. Really good stuff.
After pie we hit arguably the best spot on the river that we had found, where a major trib emptied into the main stem of the river, we fished sections of each and caught multiple Neosho smallmouth. This spot had more riffle and run than any other section we fished and that suited us perfectly. Wish we would have stumbled upon it earlier. It was there we wrapped up the fishing portion of our trip. We had a long drive ahead of us on Sunday so we would not be hitting the water in the morning. We had another solid dinner that night when Blake cooked up some chicken fajitas that had been marinating a couple days in the ice chest. The trip, even with the shorter planning period, came together nicely. I don’t know where the next one will be but I always have ideas.
Mountains to Marsh 