Lone Angler Expeditions – Part 2: Yippie-Kai-Yay

(Continued from Part 1)

Last we left the Lone Angler he and his alter ego side kick Tonto were staggering through Missouri river beds in excitement and disarray.  Little did I know being wet up to my neck in the creek would not be a single occurrence.  Regardless I was determined to wrangle up some fly fishing knowledge no matter which different ranges/rivers I would roam.  We pick up our story after employing a new stage coach, or a rubber duck, I recently acquired from Texas River Bum’s online store.

I was riding shotgun in my “stage coach” on the Big Piney River. A little piece past the Fort Leonard Wood golf course I decided to halt the fly train and return to camp.  Stepping out of the river and crawling up onto the bank I was not prepared for what I was about to find.  I found a gold mine!  Go ahead; you can say it “Yee-Haw!!!”  Not Yippie-kai-yay yet, I’ll cue you for it later.

I rolled out of the Piney and right into a beauty of a creek separated only by some 300 yards of land where the Piney and Stone Mill Spring come to a “Y”.  Big Piney water is already gin clear but this spring was just beautiful (because its stocked with trout).  The grounds and water hold a Bass Pro Shop bluish hue and look to it (stocked with trout) with deep pools and runs with tall water grass (stocked with trout). And best of all it stocked with trout! Cue “Yee-Haw!” No, still not yet.

While the Lone Angler was drooling and reaching for his fly box like he was drawing for his six-shooter, the alter ego Tonto was on the ground rolling in laughter. “Him no hav’em trout flies!”  I cursed myself. Well, trout bush whacking would have to wait for another day.  Now, don’t think I backed away all yella bellied and high tailed it out of there.  Of course, l threw a few casts with what I had and I happened to have me a nice OD green woolly bugger.  Now let me tell ya something son, these trout weren’t having any of it.  They thumbed their nose at me so hard my fly almost bounced off the water and onto the other bank.  Who was holding up who here? Cue Tonto on the ground laughing… again.

I needed to buy me some trout flies and fast.  And there was no place better to get some info on what these snobbish trout would take than a local fly shop.  So within two days time I saddled up and ran over to the closest place I could quick draw my phone and Google.  This took me to the Montauk Lodge in Missouri’s Montauk State Park.  Get this—I never knew they existed till then, it’s a Trout Park!  The operators of the fish hatchery there operate a fly shop, lodge, kitchen, etc, etc, and happen to be the same ones who stock the Stone Mill Spring on Fort Leonard Wood! Cue a double-YEE-HAW!  Who better to tell me on what they would bite on!  As quick as I could I rustled up a few flies and head back to camp.

Sparing you of the details I did not fish the spring that weekend.  I went back to the trout park of course.  I got two fish online and only one to hand.  Lost the photo op because he was slick and got away.  Seems a jig on a strike indicator was the ticket here and not the dry droppers I was gun slinging with.  Slightly disheartened I stumbled the next weekend over to a ‘blue ribbon’ creek whose trout population was of the hold/spill over kind and not stocked.  These I found liked dry flies a whole lot more.  So I didn’t pay it any mind that they were significantly smaller.  I only cared that they seemed camera shy and too slippery to had to pose for a good photo.

This went on for days until slowly I noticed that the fish that I was landing were getting bigger. Tonto was having less and less of a laugh but still taunted me over the creek.  After I landed this next one I had had it.  It was time for a showdown! Me and the Stone Mill Spring gang!

The next chance after work I was off to the creek.  I didn’t care that it smelled like rain.  I knew I had more than confidence on my side—this near pending spell of bad weather was about to sprinkle some good luck.  I strolled into the park in gun slinger fashion thru the swinger doors and called the trout out.  What I had loaded up on the past few outings on my own was genuine, Peacemaker, .40 cal encased, knowledge.  Wind did not deter my casts nor my presentations like they had before.  My casts were longer and more confident.  So, in a flash of lightning and as quick as a pistol draw it was fish on!  Yes there are bigger fish than these but these are some personal bests.  I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.

It’s been fine fishing since then as droves of learning curves and confidence have come into my cast.  So in true Bruce Willis “Die Hard” fashion, cue it for Tonto (the doubting side of myself) and the trout. Yes, cue it now: YIPPIE-KAI-YAY (you know the rest).

See you on the high ground.

-AirborneAngler