Arkansas Outdoors
Everything right for Caddo smallmouths
When fishing days like Thursday on the Caddo River happen, they should be cherished. Perfect weather met perfect conditions and made for a perfect day.
Fishing days like Thursday on the Caddo River are rare, and when they happen, you cherish them.
The weather was clear and warm, but mild for midJune in Arkansas. A fresh headwind blunted the heat’s edge, but it wasn’t so strong as to make paddling difficult. The light was bright but soft, making the water sparkle like diamonds and the bass gleam like emeralds. The water was just cool enough to be refreshing.
Greg Ellis of Sherwood and I scheduled this trip two weeks ago on the heels of a frustrating turkey scouting session in Van Buren County, during which we traversed mountainsides and river valleys in the vain hope of finding mere evidence of a wild turkey. Ellis and his daughter hunted anyway. They saw and heard nothing until the end of the hunt, when a gobbler dashed past Ellis’ truck.
“You need a good smallmouth trip to wash that bad taste out of your mouth,” I said. Ellis accepted the invitation.
Rain early in the week threatened our ambitions. The Saline River ran high, as did Ozark options. I looked at the U.S. Geologic Water Tables late Wednesday and saw that the Caddo River was at 5.5 feet at Caddo Cap. That’s a sweet spot that’s perfect for canoeing and adequate for fishing.
We arrived at Lucky’s Canoe Rentals in Glenwood about noon Thursday. The parking lot was full of excited paddlers, as it has been all spring. Thomas “Lucky” Kerberskey, the owner, said that this has been his busiest season ever. Because of the coronavirus, Arkansans have flocked to the Caddo River for social distancing refuge and recreation. Despite some epic flooding, including one recent episode in which the Caddo rose 8 feet in 15 minutes, business has been so brisk that Kerberskey said he’s had to order a new fleet of Old Town canoes and a new fleet of solo kayaks to keep up with the demand.
Even with increased visitation, the Caddo is cleaner than I have seen it in a long time. From Baker Rock to the Arkansas 182 bridge, Ellis and I saw no trash in the river. In the Caddo’s case, enhanced visitation also means enhanced appreciation. Paddlers have policed the river well.
Ellis, a devout member of Park Hill Baptist Church in North Little Rock, doesn’t do much creek fishing. This was also his first visit to the Caddo, but he said he also didn’t want to be a main character in “one of those Hendricks classics where you only catch three fish.” He hedged his bets, he said, by praying for good fishing before leaving the house.
“I believe the Lord likes to bless us that way,” Ellis said. “I mean, of course you pray for safety and things like that, but I have to say I felt a little guilty about praying for good fishing. I felt, I don’t know,
kind of selfish.”
“Guilty for what?” I asked. “Before they became disciples, didn’t Jesus bless them with a net full of fish after they didn’t catch anything all night?”
“Yes, He did,” Ellis said, laughing.
“And when everything got so heavy after Jesus was crucified, what did Peter say? He said, ‘Fellas, I’m going fishing.’ It is perfectly appropriate to pray for good fishing.”
Once in a great while, an angler feels the pulse of greatness in the air. You tingle with anticipation. You don’t feel confident, exactly. It’s more like peace, serenity. Your mind is clear and uncluttered with doubt or anticipation. You just ride the tide. Thursday was one of those days.
Soon after launching, Ellis and I found an attractive stretch of water with a deep seam running through a boulder field. On the other side was a boulder-laden flat that sloped up to a boulder-laden shelf. Before I walked to a
place where I wanted to fish, Ellis caught and released four smallmouth bass.
“They’re hiding under these rocks,” Ellis said. “Every time I come over the top of a rock, a bass comes out and grabs it.”
I caught a small bass, but my mind started to get cluttered in a hurry when I broke off three consecutive fish on the hook set. All were substantial.
“Is the line breaking or is the knot failing?” Ellis asked.
“Looks like they’re breaking above the knot,” I said. “It’s real quick, too.”
For the fourth go-round, I tied a more basic knot. I attached a cotton candy Zoom Mini Lizard to the hook and cast into the run among a line of boulders. I felt a hard thump and set the hook. This time the knot held. A big bass took the bait, and I cheered each jump with a raucous, “Ole!” It was nearly 18 inches long, glowing olive with deep black bars and mottles.
Shortly after, bass began chasing baitfish all over the creek. Ellis switched to a Whopper Plopper and caught bass on the surface. I continued throwing the lizard and had to wade back and forth through the hole several times to free my lure when it snagged. I did everything possible to shut down the hole, but the fish continued to bite so well that we could have stayed there the rest of the day.
We knew this was true because it was like that for the duration of the trip. Bass smashed minnows on the surface everywhere. Ellis caught them steadily with the Whopper Plopper, and I alternated between the lizard and a Whopper Plopper. Bass hit it, but I hooked about one of every five or six strikes.
Late in the trip, I remembered something I learned from Shane Goodner, owner of Catch’Em All Guide Service in Hot Springs. When a fish misses a topwater strike, throw a soft plastic on top of him. He’ll hit it every time. When a fish missed, I threw the lizard to the site of the last strike, and sure enough, I caught a fish.
When it was finished, I caught 15 bass and a bream. I missed at least that many. Ellis caught 20 bass, a bream and a white bass. He was ecstatic and excited about experiencing it again.
“I always expect it to be like this, but it seldom ever is,” I said. “Days like this don’t happen very often, but these are the ones that get in your soul and keep you coming back for more.”