Topwater magic

New lure highlights annual trip on the Buffalo River

Fog rises off the Buffalo River on Monday, beginning a long day of fi shing and paddling for Bill Eldridge and the author.
Fog rises off the Buffalo River on Monday, beginning a long day of fi shing and paddling for Bill Eldridge and the author.

BUFFALO NATIONAL RIVER -- October in Arkansas has a sound all its own, and an Ozark stream is like a concert hall.

I studied acoustics in college, but I can't explain what gives October it's unique timbre. Maybe it's the sharpness in the air, or the chording of the breeze.

Wind has a full but flat tone when it strums the leaves of the hardwoods in the spring and summer. The foliage is full, dense and lush, and it mutes the wind.

In October, the leaves are dry. They sound brittle and crackly, like brown corn husks. It is the voice of a year in late middle age, a time of mature vibrance and splendor.

Bill Eldridge and I dipped our paddles into this world Sunday through Tuesday for our annual float on the Buffalo River from Spring Creek to Rush. Our usual companions, Rusty Pruitt and Ed Kubler, couldn't join us, so it was just the two of us.

The first thing I noticed is how we travel lighter than in the past. I used to cram a dry box with all my shelter and bedding supplies, a kitchen box, a survival box, a cooler and all my fishing tackle into a 15-foot, 8-inch canoe.

Now it's just the shelter/bedding box, a dry bag containing fresh clothes and toiletries, cooler, folding chair and fishing tackle.

It's the same with Eldridge, who does make greater allowances for food. He believes in eating well on the river, and he believes in not having something you wish that you had brought.

The autumn light was crystalline, but not as deeply saturated as is customary for October. It still had the harsh, blue edge of summer, but bronze, high-definition shades remedy that. They always make the world a more beautiful place. That's why Eldridge has a pair, too.

The shuttle driver that took us from Wild Bill's Canoe Rental is fanatical about smallmouth bass fishing. He gave a few revelations about fishing patterns on that section of the river that we hadn't considered before, and we put them to the test.

Usually, we sail quickly to our traditional campsite between Spring Creek and Arkansas 14. It's only about 2 miles, but this time it took almost six hours.

We've always considered that to be a fairly dead stretch of water for fishing, but with so much time left in the day it seemed sinful to dismiss it so casually. We started fishing immediately, and we flogged that little stretch of water harder than ever before.

The results were impressive.

I had three rods. One held a crankbait, one held a Texas rig with a plastic lizard and the other held a topwater plug. A friend recommended the lure to me on the condition that I keep it confidential. A journalist must protect his sources, so I am unable to share that detail here, but it was freaking awesome. It was so phenomenal that, save for maybe 20 casts with the soft plastic, it was the only lure I threw for three days.

Another sound I hold dear is that of a bass blowing up on a topwater lure. There's nothing like it, and I will drive very long distances with virtually no sleep to experience it.

Conditions were very good for topwater fishing. The current was sufficient to drift a canoe at a very slow speed, and a stiff headwind chopped the surface. That prevents fish from seeing you, but it also emboldens them to leave cover to feed or smash interlopers in their territories.

I briefed Eldridge on the things I learned two weeks ago when wade fishing with guide Shane Goodner in Montgomery County. His strategy is to attract bass with a topwater lure and then bomb the followers with a soft plastic worm.

"Stay close," I advised Eldridge. "When one hits this topwater, you know there's always two or three following it. Plunk that lizard on them, and we'll load up."

With good shades, you can see all the things beneath the surface you can't see with bare eyes. Dark spots betray the tops of boulders, and long shadows reveal submerged trees that attract smallmouth bass.

Anticipation mounts as a topwater lure approaches a likely bass lair, and you know the precise moment when a bass should come up and smash it. When it doesn't happen, you can hardly believe it.

Even more puzzling is how a bass can jump all over a lure that sports two treble hooks, take it under, run with it and still avoid getting hooked.

Oh, but let it get within 6 inches of a floating twig or sycamore leaf, and it'll practically winch them onto the hooks.

In three days I lost four good fish in the 16-18 inch range that way, but by golly, the little 10- and 12-inchers never missed, nor did the green sunfish or longear sunfish.

Last spring's flooding rerouted the channel and left landlocked the gravel bar where we traditionally camped. However, it created another gravel bar that's even better for camping. Flowing water enveloped our campsite on three sides, and bacon wrapped filet mignons served as a seal of approval.

Dessert came later, off the end of that gravel bar. It was pitch dark, and I couldn't see beyond a few yards. I cast the topwater far downriver and listened as it chugged back upstream.

About midway through the retrieve, we heard what sounded like a beaver slapping its tail against the water. I counted "One Mississippi" and then hauled back on the rod. After a spirited fight, I landed and released a healthy 16-inch smallmouth, my best of the trip.

Eldridge and I spent the next two days talking of many things. We first fished together in 2005, when I joined him and his sons Matthew and Nathan for a crappie fishing outing at Lake Maumelle. We've lost count of how many river trips we've taken together, but it's a bunch. Many of them have been on this stretch of the Buffalo, and every part of it holds a memory. We recalled them fondly while reveling in the new memories we were making.

It ended all too soon, with a soft, sharp breeze rattling through the oaks and sycamores at Rush where I donned fresh, dry clothes and shoes. You take that for granted any other time, but it plays big at the end of a float trip.

We returned home through backroads that took us through some overlooked countryside that puts on its best in the fall.

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Bill Eldridge caught a mess of smallmouths like this one during his three-day float fishing trip with the author last week.

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Bill Eldridge prepares supper Monday by firelight and headlight on a Buffalo River gravel bar.

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Two Tulsa anglers make a brief stop at Rush in their kayaks before continuing their journey down the lower Buffalo River to the White River.

October is a superior time in Arkansas. It's a shame that it only has 31 days.

Sports on 10/22/2017

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