9/27/23

In addition to trout fishing and a lodge serving pretty good food, Montauk State Park also has a campground with 135 campsites with electric hookups and 35 tent camping spaces as well.  And more sites are being built. There’s plenty of room.  The park encompasses almost 3000 acres.  I, Al Harper, recently reserved a site there with the intention of floating the Current River.  Camping at Montauk in late September is a quiet and restful experience. And floating the Current when the Missouri humidity starts to abate is pleasant as well.  

I put my drift boat in at Tan Vat early one morning for a solo float to Cedar Grove.  It was a crisp morning and I was glad to see many active fish despite the low flow resulting from near drought conditions at Montauk most of September.  Just downstream from launch, I encountered a pod of trout feeding on … something. 

They were on the surface and swirling just below it but the water clarity made getting close a challenge.  The fish were spooky and what they were eating must have been very small.  I slowly drifted closer and the trout eventually tolerated the boat’s presence within casting range while I went through a range of dry flies. Finally a nice brown trout ate one.  I reduced my tippet size, tried a crackleback and got a hard strike that broke the tippet. 

I enjoyed great luck upstream from a large pod of trout on the White River in Arkansas back in July and had visions of again anchoring upstream and catching numerous trout on the emerger.  But I caught only one more brown and missed another couple of hook sets. They continued feeding as I finally had to drift down. 

An interesting part of floating the Current is people you encounter.  While trying to wrest a fish out of a likely hole I heard the distinctive sound of a metal jon boat scrapping the shallow rock bottom.  It got closer and I turned to see a barge-like boat with men standing fore and aft using wooden poles about 12’ in length to propel the craft down river.  Amidship sat two matronly ladies side by side in lawn chairs gazing scerenly at nature’s handiwork and sipping festive drinks.   The forward “poler” stood on a high, enhanced platform from which he navigated.  He shifted his weight on the pole occasionally to reduce the boat’s drag. The man aft added only a little momentum as he took in the scenery too.  But overall they were a happy and chatty quartet of floaters seemingly oblivious to the commotion they made in shallow spots.  Farther downstream I overheard a wading fly fisherman I had passed ask the “gondola” pilot to slightly alter his trajectory to the far side of the river. The pilot happily complied.  

The only other fisherman I encountered launched his canoe at Baptist Camp and quickly found himself upstream from another pod of trout. He too used an emerger to bring a few to the net before the pod began ignoring his fly.  I later saw him standing up in the canoe as he floated down. A technique that seemed to this observer difficult to pull off. 

The third pod I came upon yielded  my best trout of the day. I dispensed with trying to match a dry fly hatch and threw an emerger immediately upon quietly floating in range.  What turned out to be a very fat 19” brown snatched my fly just as I started my retrieve.  

Being a crusty veteran of this river, he immediately headed for the structure he was probably resting in.  For this battle I was a little outgunned relying on a 6X tippet and a small hook.  I had to give up line as the brown made a surge and did his best to wind my line around the end of a log facing downstream.  I plunged my rod tip in the river to avoid the log and counter his move. After a few seconds, he darted out of the underwater thicket and under my driftboat.  We wrangled and tugged as hard as I dared till the muscular fish finally began to weaken. 

I got his head up and gently pulled him alongside.  Like many large browns, the inside of his mouth had the characteristics of the stem of a rose bush.  My crackle back fly was wrecked.  I noticed while holding this fish alongside the boat to revive him that his “shoulders” were very broad and his butter coloration was rich. 

Afterward I managed to hook a bow only a couple of inches smaller.  This was a good pod, but a smart one as well and I connected with only one other moderate sized bow.  It’s hard to move on when nice fish are wallowing downstream but not taking what you offer.  But I still had about 6 miles to float this day, so push on I did.  

The day I was to depart, a few FATC members had scheduled and excursion there.  I took advantage of the chance to meet them as they arrived.  Just to be contentious (or maybe obnoxious), as they climbed out of their vehicles I said “You should have been here yesterday!”  I couldn’t resist.  They just rolled their eyes, smiled and silently began assembling their rods and gear readying themselves for another great day of fishing.