Ouachita rematch
Series tied as walleyes, smallmouths put on show
MOUNT IDA — The World Walleye Series is tied, 1-1.
When anglers don’t catch fish, we talk about how much we loved being out enjoying a beautiful day with good company. We really do, but let’s be honest. It galls us when our partner catches all the fish and we only catch one, especially when we’re using the same lure.
It also galls us when our buddy rubs it in.
That’s what happened Feb. 21 on the upper Ouachita River fishing with Chris Larson of Roland. We used the same lure and versions of the same rig. The only difference is that Larson fished from the port side of the boat and I fished from starboard. He caught two really nice walleyes and a nice mess of smallmouth bass. He also caught a big drum.
All I caught was one measly little smallmouth. Larson is a sly taunter. He says things like, “I’m so accustomed to my guests always catching all the fish. This is a nice break from normal!” And he does it so cheerily.
When Larson invited me back for a rematch on Monday, I gladly accepted. Of course I wanted to spend a nice day on a great river with a great friend, but I also wanted to prove to myself that I haven’t lost my touch. I haven’t had a great day of catching in quite a long time, and it’s in my head.
Fortunately, every day is a new day with Larson. He did not mention the previous Monday’s rout. However, he was a little miffed that my late arrival robbed us of 30 precious minutes of prime walleye time.
A few things were different. For the first time since I’ve known him, Larson didn’t wear his customary Green Bay Packers ballcap. He wore a generic red cap.
“Gloria (Larson’s wife, and one of the coolest people I know) reminded me that I was wearing this the other day when I caught a bunch of fish with her,” Larson said. “It was her idea for me to switch.”
I made some changes, too. Instead of using Larson’s Long A Bomber that has been so productive for him, I used a 41/2-inch floating Rapala in rainbow trout pattern. Ed Kubler of Benton used the same lure to catch three walleyes on Feb. 21. It quickly proved to be a good choice. I caught a 201/4-inch walleye within about 15 minutes. It was roughly in the same place where Larson caught a 4.27-pound walleye the previous Monday.
My fish was fool’s gold. We trolled that hole five times for the next 90 minutes without getting another bite from a walleye. I also caught a couple of smallmouths. I am always happy to catch a smallmouth, but we really wanted to tangle with a striped bass. Unfortunately, stripers were nowhere to be found.
“I guess they came up here to spawn and went back down,” Larson said. “There’s really not that much up here for them to eat to keep them here.”
“My best striper days have always been in March, and I’ve caught them into early April,” I said. “We might be early.”
Floods have changed the river in subtle but important ways. Some of the shoals have shifted. Deep holes have formed where once were gravel flats and lips. Fish always seem to like new habitat.
“I would expect walleyes to be stacked up in that,” I said as we trolled one such hole.
“They might be if it were cloudy,” Larson said. “With this sun out, they’re going to be hunkered down in the bottom of that deep channel.”
My next good bite was a big white bass.
“That’s early,” Larson and I said in unison. “These guys usually don’t get here until late March.”
We caught a couple more smallmouths at Striper Corner, but again there was no hint of a walleye or striper.
“When I catch stripers up here, I can always count on catching at least one when I’m about even with that structure over there,” I said. Larson nodded in agreement.
When the catching evaporated, the subject turned to music. Larson brought a Bluetooth speaker that broadcast his Spotify playlist. Larson loves blues. I’m partial to soul and Bakersfield country rock. I’ve been on an original Richey Furay era Poco kick lately. They’re the band that in 1969 perfected what the Byrds tried to achieve in 1968 with Sweetheart of the Rodeo.
“Jim Messina was in Poco, wasn’t he?” Larson asked.
“He and Richey Furay started it,” I replied. “Randy Meisner was also a founding member. Richey booted him right before their first album came out because he demanded to attend the mixing sessions. They kept his bass parts but replaced his vocals with George Grantham. As good as Poco was with Timothy B. Schmidt, everybody says they were stratospheric with Meisner. Probably one of the worst mistakes a band ever made, especially considering what Meisner did with the Eagles.”
“Have you ever heard …?” Larson threw out some obscure name.
I hadn’t, so Larson played it. And then he played someone else I hadn’t heard, and then someone else.
“Check out St. Paul and the Broken Bones,” I offered.
“Never heard of them,” Larson said.
“A bunch of nerdy Birmingham guys. You’d love them!”
Sprinkling that conversation were reminiscences of shows we had seen.
“You’re going to laugh, but the best show I ever saw was Grand Funk Railroad, in Dallas,” I said. “Loudest show, too.”
“Oh, my gosh! I bet!” Larson gushed.
Still we fished, and fished hard. After wearing out the Powerline Hole and Striper Corner, we ran upstream to the Hit-or-Miss hole. We trolled every bit of it without success until we crossed a shoal into a stretch of deeper water. There I caught my second walleye, a 19-incher.
“We were at 11 feet where that fish hit,” Larson said.
“And that lure runs, what, five, six feet?”
“You just never know, do you?” Larson asked. “Usually you have to get to the bottom, especially in bright sunlight.”
Larson pointed to a pair of hackberry trees in bloom.
“Scott Hunter always said that when the hackberries are in bloom, it’s walleye season,” he said.
Not long after, we found the gold mine. Changing currents created a new hole that has everything a fish could want. I got a big hit near the end of it. I set the hook, and one of the biggest smallmouths I ever saw launched skyward like a Trident missile.
First, Larson and I had to do a hand-over-hand dosi-do with our rods to keep the lines from tangling. That took precious time. Worse, my drag was too tight. As I struggled to loosen it, the fish made a mighty surge and broke my line and took my Rapala. I was heartbroken. You don’t get another chance like that.
Or do you?
I switched to a Luck-EStrike STX jerkbait. It is purplish blue with a subtle rib pattern and a chartreuse belly.
Another fish hit, and this time I was ready. The drag was good but a little balky. When it hesitated, I pulled line off the spool by hand as another big smallmouth jumped and tailwalked. I landed it, but it was smaller than the one I lost.
I caught a couple more. Larson switched to a rainbow trout pattern Long A and caught a smallmouth, his only fish of the day. And then the hole went cold and took the rest of the river down with it.
On the way back, Larson groused playfully about how I turned the tables.
“That hat killed you, brother,” I said. “Get back in uniform next time.”
I have a feeling that next time is coming soon.