White River (below Bull Shoals

Big Bug bite Brown

6/22/10

The last few outings have been very amusing. I'm observing guides with bobbers strapped to beadhead rigs tucking tale and running to the dam...all the while the bugs are massing in the trees waiting for the magical hour to burst onto the scene in the spots down river that the said guides just left. There must be something at the dam I don't know about right now, but with the dry fly fishing as good as it is....ignorance is bliss.

Randy and a brown on a Sulphur....life's tough

Fished the State Park to Wildcat. Flows started at about 12,000 cfs and bumped to 16,000 in the afternoon. Same deal different day. Hatch progression started in the afternoon, so we started out with some nymphing and then moved to the dry game after lunch.

Brown on a Caddis.....they'll be here all summer folks.

I have never seen hatches this thick anywhere I've ever been. That's saying something as i just left the dry fly mecca of Missoula, and spent three winters in Chile. Sulphurs are coming off in the mid afternoons with the caddis coming off really late. The big bug bite is still going and will continue to get better on through the summer.

Several nice browns were landed all on dries. Saw pods of easily 500 fish all up on rhythm. Henry's Fork, eat your heart out. There is no other river in the US right now that has better dry fly fishing than the White....hands down.

Forrest Smith

Trout and Timber Outfitters

first time

Growing up in the Ozarks, there aren't too many trickles of water that I don't know better than the back of my hand, just some of have to "refamiliarize". On days off, I'm constantly checking out different ditches I think might have fish at water levels that I haven't fished. Sometimes I strike gold, and sometimes I strike out. If a guide claims he knows everything and still has nothing to learn.....he's flat out lying through his teeth. The day I stop learning is the day I become a complacent guide, and will thus retire from the field.

In past years, I've sometimes guided in up to three different geographical regions in a single season. Some of them have been brand new. Sometimes I've worked, and been handed a map drawn on a napkin with the put in and a takeout (not in Arkansas thank God)....accompanied by a reassuring pat on the back and a "you'll figure it out." Those trips can get western a hurry.

Enter Montana

I had the pleasure of working in Missoula, MT for the 2009 summer season. Images of pods up on rhythm, and big browns crashing salmon flies danced in my head the whole spring before the pilgrimage north. It was every bit as good as I had ever imagined, but again, I was a new guy with a ton of brand new water to learn.

Everything went smooth through the beginning of the season. I started out learning the bunny slopes with a couple guide buddies. Then I started expanding to the sneaky floats, but with hundreds of miles to learn, there were still going to be those days where the professional bull shitter had to clock in and tell the clients about the 30 times I had been down that stretch and the really nice fish I had caught in that tail out outside seam three days ago. Typically it was no big deal. I caught plenty of fish. The saying goes, "Fish are fish, and water is water."

I did have one day when I looked like a true fanewguy(f***ing new guy). I had actually picked up a couple days from a secondary outfitter. I had a couple plans in my head. On that day plan A, B, and C wouldn't pan out. The clients had already fished A and B with another guide that week, and shuttle reports said C was going to have 6 boats on it. I called the outfitter, and he reccomended a stretch of river I had never fished.

No problem. I did remember asking a guide buddy about that stretch and they mentioned a diversion dam named Sleeping Child. No problem normally, but I already had my hard boat trailored and 20 minutes out of town. I talk to the outfitter, and he said, "Yeah no problem you Southern Sally. Just get the clients out, walk them around, walk back up, and shoot the far left side."

So I get to the river, rig up, tell the clients about all the big fish I've caught in the stretch that I've actually never seen before. I was still very confident, but I did notice a funny look from a guide sporting a raft at the boat ramp. I think to myself, "Screw em', I'll show him the new guy's got a couple tricks up his sleeve." It was golden stone time on the Bitterroot. If a guide

can't catch fish at that time, he might as well apply at McDonalds as a fry cook.

Fishing took off better than I had predicted. First good run....three fish. Second good run....7 fish. Multiple doubles. I called (bull shitted) a couple eats from a couple bigger fish in a couple spots. Life was gravy.

We have lunch, and I tell them about the upcoming diversion dam. We keep fishing, whacking fish after fish. I'm the guide of the year at this point. We make a bend and I see another nice and greasy run.....but it disappears on the horizon. Butt cheeks start to clench. Enter Sleeping Child.

I row over, and notice three different boats at the top, all of them rafts. Great. I've got my hard boat, and a low nosed skiff at that. I get the clients out and walk them down all the while inspecting the diversion dam. It looks like no big deal. The outfitter called it just perfect. The clean chute was far left, but it had a big wave train at the bottom. No problem, no recirc waves, just rip on the oars at the bottom and slow it down not to plow the train. I line the boat up and pass the three rafts anchored. They are all on the bank ready to watch the show. I give them all a nod and say "this is pushing it with the skiff huh?" I just get blank looks.

Tough crowd I guess. I keep my boat lined up. I hit the lip, and give it a push. I miss every rock, pivot at the bottom, to hit the wave train. I'm the man.....Montana whimps and their rafts. How'd these dang guys Creme of Wheat Eatin sons a b****** the Civil War again? I hit the bottom and dig on the oars. POW!!! My oar busts. I get a little goofy in the waves, but I manage to some how hit the train straight on. I can't slow down with one oar, and the waves are a couple feet bigger than I had guessed from the bank. Here it comes. I'm taking water on the chin. Going down in flames. Look over, and my clients eyes are as big as saucer plates as they imagine their guide going down in flames. At this point in time, I've got 12 inches of standing water in the boat, one functioning oar with the spare tucked well behind my gear, and thinking to myself "guess those Yanks came to the big show prepared." I stand up and canoe paddle my boat over to the bank about 200 yards below the clients. I pull the boat way up on the slope bank so all five hundred gallons of water will go to the back and start bailing.

Client: "What happened Forrest?"

Forrest: "My oar broke, guess I don't know my own strength" nervously chuckling.

Client: " I was wondering why you canoe paddled the boat to the bank. I noticed all the other guys were rowing rafts. Did you not know the diversion would be this bad?"

Forrest: "Well it changed quite a bit since the last time I floated it"

Client: "I thought you said you floated it three days ago. You were talking about all those nice ones you whacked in here."

Forrest: Yeah, changed quick, speaking of big ones......there's a really nice brown a bend down on the tail out....let's do a fly switch up drakes are coming off, and the fish really go on this cripple in this stretch."

The other guide boats come through, pick up their clients, and make the voyage past me while I'm bailing out my boat. I see the clients pointing, and the guides chuckling.

Client: "I told you, all those guys are running rafts."

Forrest: "That's because these Montana Sally's don't know how to canoe paddle a hard boat."

Wiley Critters

For the majority of my guiding career, 95% percent of my trips have been trout trips. There are multiple reasons for this, but mainly due to the fact that most of the places I have guided are exclusively trout fisheries like Montana and Chile. In Alaska I guided all five species of salmon and trout. Arkansas is a different story.

I've grown up in this area. I cut my teeth on t

iny warm water creeks, rivers, and lakes. As I progressed as a fisherman, the challenge of trout drew me to the cold tailwaters of the White River Basin. I've guided them for sometime. I really enjoy it. My clients also enjoy it. Who wouldn't? The White River boasts a bajillion fish a mile, and the chance for that monster kicker fish. But I still found myself fishing the warm water species on my days off.

Sound logic kicked in a few years ago. If I enjoy this I'm sure my clients will be tap dancing at the end of the day as well. Thus the warm water portfolio began to develop.........

The season starts off at the end of March with the white bass run. This is a no brainer. Constant action, the occassional striper. More importantly, its a way to keep my sanity after keying on one species (trout) all winter long. They're not picky.....consequently my rusty bass flies from the prior year get used up. Its like fly fishing's version of spring cleaning. Can'

t be too rusty, because I don't want that rogue 20 lb. striper chomping the thing in half.......

Funny I should have mentioned the striper, because its next on the calendar. This one can be tough. I've got a group of clients that are all gung ho on these things. Tough part is

, the stars have to align to get these critters to come shallower then 20 ft. deep. When the conditions are right. I start making despereate phone calls.

Forrest: "Joe Angler.....its on....get here in three days?"

Joe Angler: "ehh...how good is it? taxes are due this week"

Forrest: "Well, we put a dozen in the boat, and three came on top....biggest being a quarter of a century, but we lost a bigger one"

Joe Angler: "Filing an extension, game on."

Unless an angler's very flexible, it is extremely hard to hit as they can come into the shallows in a days time, and leave just as quickly. And everyonce in a blue moon, Joe Angle

r comes, and the fish have gone back down to 15 feet........out comes the lead. It's always a roll of the dice. But just like Vegas, when you hit it, you hit it big.

By the time the stripers dwindle, Ozark's native son (Smallmouth Bass) has finally come out to play. This is my favorite time of year. Early can be tough. Finesse is the game,

but the big ones are dumb, and very eager to eat anything that looks edible coming out of their winter slumber. But its topwater takes that really draws me to the species. Fly Fishermen, travel the world over to see a turd brown slurp a salmon fly. I believe thats due to the fact that the majority of this "mass" hasn't seen a smallmouth come screaming halfway across a river to smash a popper. That's okay with me. There's no shuttle traffic reports, and I can take my time at the boat ramp.

In the previous post, I mentioned that I felt like a "6 month old Jack Russell chasing its tail in circles at mach 12." There's a lot to stay on top of. Its worth it. The trout game is great. Its what pays the bills. But if an angler wants to see what the Ozarks are all about,

then they need to put away the 5 weight and their midge box, and start beating some brush. To chase a lot of these species is like putting one's self in a time warp. Finding that water that hasn't been altered by dams and trout docks. Its not really the bent rod itself, but the journey to find the bend.

firing on all cylinders!!!!

Things get hectic in a fishing season, especially Arkansas in the spring. Right now I'm chasing water temps on the smallie rivers, white bass runs, pinning hatches down, and chasing down virgin streamer runs.

Other times of the year, one or two of these things may happen at any given time, allowing a fishing guide to concentrate on a given product and give it a nudge. Right now, I'm a 6 month old jack russell terrier chasing my tail at mach 12.

How do I decide what to do? Its pretty simple really. I just ask "Joe Fisherman" what he wants to do.

JA "Forrest, I've never really hit the mother's day hatch before."

Forrest "No problem Joe Angler, the hatch is popping on about 18 miles of river"

JA "Forrest, how's the smallie fishing? Is there a particular river you would reccomend"

Forrest "there is no particular river right now, pick one out of a hat, it'll fish great, if you want bigger ones, lets concentrate on some green water."

JA "So i hear you like to pitch the secret chicken, are they on?"

Forrest "Is the Pope Catholic? Crawdads are popping, and the sculpins are in the mood right now so its easy pickin."

JA "How's the nymph fishing?"

Forrest "Why? I guess we could catch 80 fish on that today, but what's the point, let me explain what's going on right now...."

In short, we are in the middle of a "happening." The stars have aligned. At the same time, I'm running all over Northern Arkansas putting boats up dirty, switching for the other dirty boat the next day, scrounging through fly boxes that look like a mortar round went off inside. I've got time to do the three S's in the morning (scratch that, two) and thats about it. A good nights sleep is a faint memory. I've got a day off tomorrow so everything's okay. Wait, I just heard a gobble out back and there's a few days of turkey season left. Guess I can sleep when I'm dead.......or June.....I hope.

so you want to be a fishing guide?

I've found myself to be socially handicapped. If you ask my good friends, or even the sports I take out in my boat they would scream blasphemy. I never run out of stories or jokes in these circumstances. But when i take the lovely lady to the local watering hole or meet new people, its tough to get a word in. It's also not that I'm timid with new people. I always get stuck on one simple introductory question, "So what do you do (for a living)?"

I'm a fishing guide, a fly fishing guide at that. I'm not embarrassed. I absolutely love my job. The office views are great, and the gossip doesn't revolve around a broken copy machine but where the next caddis push is going to explode. The only screaming a guide will ever hear is from a Hardy fly reel, not an unrelenting superior. But its still a job.

When I lived in Missoula, MT the profession was very common. The morning commute was predominantly pick up trucks and drift boats. If a person wasn't a fishing guide, they were related or at least knew one. They knew the gig, its splendors and its spoils. Arkansas is a different case.

In my hometown of Fayetteville, guides are harder to find then putting a bead down on a late night snipe hunt. In Mountain Home, guides are prevalent, but more of the weekend warrior variety. If you throw the word "fly fishing" in the mix there's no telling what the civilian you are conversing with will say. I've had the follow up questions vary from "so how do you catch your flies" to "what does a fishing airplane look like".

Now this doesn't bother me so much. It's the follow ups like:

"So what's your real job?"

or

"People pay you to fish with them? That's awesome! I think I want to be a fishing guide."

So you want to be a fishing guide huh?

Here's the gig:

Hours:

Up at 4:00 am, prepping boats, checking flows, and putting together a couple game plans (always a plan B and C)

Pick the clients up at 7:30, and on the river by 8:00-8:30

Fish till 5:00 pm (seems like a normal blue collar gig so far)

Trailer the boat, drop the clients off at 6:00 pm

Wash the boat, fill the truck up and arrive at home 7:00 pm

Give the lovely lady a peck on the cheek, tell her you still remember what she looks like, shovel down the food the said saint has made for you 7:30

make the phone calls to all your clients for the next day about pick up times, food likes and dislikes, and of course "how's the fishing been?" always comes up. so if a guide has got a couple boats out the next day.....expect 8:30 (still not done)

Crank out a couple dozen flies. In Montana this isn't a big problem. Most fly companies gear a majority of their bug patterns to western hatches and rivers. But that is not the case in Arkansas. If you want to catch fish, you tie your own flies. we also fish a lot of 5 and 6x so at least a dozen or two to replace the break offs. 10:00 pm

Finally done!!! 18 hours later.....

Now its private time....talk to the Misses, make sure she still doesn't want to divorce you. Ask about her day, the bit every average Joe does.

This is the average day in the life of a fishing guide. This does not include the days that you stall out on your float to wait for a late hatch, or an evening streamer bite. If that happens add a couple hours to the day.

Still want to be a fishing guide? Its long hours but the job is still a cake walk right?

......wrong.

I love my job, but its no cake walk. I don't push papers, but I get hit with errant casts. I don't have to meet deadlines, but sometimes the fish are being stubborn. I don't have to work on excel, but I do untangle things more complex than an algorithm from a NASA Scientist.

Still want to be a fishing guide?

A guide not only catches fish, but is a jack of all trades. In any given day, a person in the trade can: pack a faulty trailer bearing, get a blind man to set the hook on a pod sipping #24 midges, repair Jack and Jill's marriage (when fishing with a dis functional couple), hold a piss bucket while an 82 year old fisherman relieves himself, act somewhat interested in a man's stamp collection for 9 hours, and somehow manage to catch a few fish.

That's my job, its tough, its gritty, and I love the ever living snot out of it. I love the comradery with the clients, I love the challenge of the new fisherman. Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment. There is one thing I don't enjoy, and that's having to explain what it is that I actually "do".

Speaking the lingo

Fly fishermen in general are definitely a different breed, and fishing guides, who rarely make it out from behind the sticks, have evolved into something that separates them from the civilian population within the same ecosystem. Depending on the person asked they could be placed on either side of the human spectrum, super or sub human.

I have always thought that guides, especially fly guides fell right in the middle with the ordinary Joe, yet the misconception lies within the different vocabulary and dialects we use. I can see as to how many might think of us as being an evolved and intelligent humanoid when

"ovapositing trichoptera" rolls off the tongue. And yet the indecipherable grunts and groans of a bloan cast or a large streamer to the back of the head lead many people to believe that a chimpanzee's communication skills are closer to that of a Rhodes scholar in the evolutionary chain.

For those civilians that frequent the same rivers and streams as a guide or those of you who might decide to follow my frequent ramblings, I have created a translation to help cross the linguistic barrier.

Dirt Snake- a san juan worm

Wet Chicken- any streamer over 6"

Baby Chicken- any streamer under 6"

Turd- a girdle bug/ Pat's stone

Poaching Water- a blatant low hole (someone pulls in and fishes down stream) or any whoring of your water by another angler.

Double Bagging- wearing two rain coats due to a down pour

Devil's Rig- a dirt snake with a dirt snake dropper

Shooting heads- contrary to belief this is not a game violation. it is casting to a rising fish.

San Francisco Trout- a rainbow trout hooked in the anus.

toofah: two trout landed on one rig with a dropper, pronounced twoferrr' in Arkansas

White River two step: also known as the san juan shuffle. kicking one's feet on the bottom to create a feeding frenzy. this is a no no

Walter Jr. a brown trout under 24"

fish !+@*: a picture of nice fish...usually in the grip n grin pose

grip n grin: grip a trout and grin for the camera

old man river: blue hair fishing guide....someone that was a fishing guide/ fisherman before dirt was invented.

attitude adjustment: a can of Copenhagen

crossing some one's eyes: hitting them in the back of the head with a large split shot or heavy fly due to an errant cast

biorhythm: also associated with "holding your mouth right" has to do with being able to catch fish or not catch fish on many days. hangovers are also directly correlated to biorhythms.

angel dust: a special something that you put into a dubbing blend to push your pattern over the edge. give it that fishy twinkle. also known as pixie dust.

steak and eggs: flesh fly and egg pattern fished simultaneously

oar wh*re: a fishing guide that rows a drift boat. there are also many other titles for this wily character that are not suitable for this site. Very rare in Arkansas, but are being seen more and more.

billy bob back troll: people seen back trolling on the White River while smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer simultaneously. The consumption of alcohol and operation of a boat is illegal and not condoned by the author of this translator.

Duel carburetor- a hardy fly reel

Blue striped tiger with a wench- a war eagle fly rod with a flueger automatic reel

Whistling Gopher- usually frequents fishing shows. they ask "how much does one of them fishing trips go fer'?" when hit with the amount they begin to whistle.

fly shop talk 20- a 16 inch fish.

Seventh ring of hell- a y2k with a san juan dropper

s#xual intellectual: an f%^&%$ know it all

trout park brigade: people that feel that you are standing over the only fish in the river. so they fish on your hip pocket while there is 2 miles of open water to be had. This mentality is usually brought about from being reared in a "trout park" north of the Arkansas border. the standard line "if i knew you were going to fish this close to me I would have brought another sandwich" is appropriate during these encounters. the problem is easily diffused when you give the fellow angler a couple hot flies, a bead on another good spot. other aliases for this character include "roaring river renegades" or the "Missouri Mafia". in the duck hunting world this would be known as the "South Carolina Swat Team". Side note- this term does not include most and is not limited to people indigenous to the states of South Carolina and Missouri. All fisherman from any region that act in this way are deemed a member of the TPB. The author has always enjoyed the company and been appalled by the actions of persons of all regions of the US and multiple continents. May not be deemed politically correct by many, but "I ain't your politician, I'm your fishing guide."

Sagesocrat- a person with a deep wallet, and limited fishing talent. the method behind the madness is they think "fishyness" can be purchased through a goofy hat, an expensive rod, and a $500 pair of waders.

I think that will cover the basic needs. I won't go in to deep on the scientific names of the bugs or other technicalities. I'd rather watch paint dry. Now onto the inaudible grunts and groans.

hawlysheetahh- an angler is dropping his cast and hitting everyone in the boat

susususususset- your fly just got eaten. set the hook

giviteer- usually happens on a slow day. the fishing guide is mentally beat and wants to change your flies. usually followed by a more audible. "if it doesn't work, it doesn't ride for free".

hoooolyfufufufufdidjayaseet- The biggest fish in the area code just ate your fly or possibly took a swat at it.

Hopefully this crash course will help the masses understand the more elusive and somewhat secretive critter we like to call a fishing guide. Now if someone could streamline the female dialects and the true meanings of their groans......