OZARK FISHIN' 2009
But a couple of minutes before I would have missed my connection in Dallas, the field opens up and an airplane prepares to leave SeaTac. Only thing, there are about 2000 folks fighting for the 150 seats.
Turning on the charm, I convince the Gate Agent that I am handicapped and I snag a precious seat. Things begin looking up even more, when the cute young flight attendant feels sorry for me and sneaks me free beer all the way to Dallas.
But then comes the dreaded American Airlines terminal at DFW. 150 gates, and the one where your departing flight leaves is always at least two miles from where you arrived. I think that if they extended the concourses a bit farther, you could walk to your final destination.
Anyway, I sink into a cart for the handicapped, and it takes me about 200 yards to the end of the line. And guess what, the moving sidewalks are not running, so it is hoof it the last mile.
So I just manage to catch my connection for Springfield MO.
Which turns out to be one of those little Embraer jets. But not too bad, really.
Anyway, Hugh and Michelle meet me at the gate, and it’s a good dinner and then crash in the sack.
Next morning its up and at ‘em first thing. So out we roll with the camping trailer, behind the big truck, and we are on our way. No tent this time, thankfully.
So we arrive at the campsite and settle in. Just steps from the potties, the store and the boat launch. Thing is, it’s about a forty five degree slope down to the boats. Not bad going down, but Hell to get back up.
So we grab our poles, and go rent a boat. But guess what, a thunder storm is coming in, and they won’t let us on the water. And by the time the storm passes it is too late for fishin’. Lucky Hugh had us well stocked with Coronas, so it wasn’t too bad.
We had planned to hire Hot Dawg Curtis, the self styled “Fish Acquisition Specialist”, for the next days fishing, but by the time we got through screwing around, he was booked. So we rented the last boat, and guess what, the motor wouldn’t start. The rental guy assured that the motor would be fixed momentarily, but that turned out to be Ozark time, and we finally got on the water about 11:00 AM.
We didn’t have a clue what we were doing, but we finally managed to catch a few fish, even though two lunkers broke my six pound line, and several more got off Hugh’s barbless hook.
On the plus side, the river was scenic, the weather was perfect, and the boat guy let us have the boat all day for the half day rate. And as I remarked, the fishin’ was great, but the catchin’ did leave something to be desired.
Arriving back at camp, we found about one hundred Boy Scouts had invaded our campsite, and it rained most of the next day. But with the help of a fresh supply of Corona, we coped.
Anyway, it was a good outing, lots of Corona and male bonding. And the trip was a real bargain. I figure that the fish only cost about $100 per pound.
But next time, I think we will take advantage of the Hot Dawg Curtis guide service.
MORE OZARK FISHIN'
Well, I’m off on the second annual Ozark fishin’ trip with favorite son in law Hugh. And incidentally, Hugh says it is our tenth outing. But, frankly, I have been having too much fun to keep count.
Anyway, I’m off to Branson MO, with a plane change at Denver. This seemed to be better travel arrangements than before, since the tiny burg of Branson (6000 souls) now has its own airport, and is just a few miles from the fishing.
I decide to carry all my baggage and paraphernalia aboard, and everything goes well till we deplane at Denver. And there I am staggering up the ramp with about 40 pounds of gear, and I think that I am going to have a coronary. What’s wrong? This has never happened before!! But then I realize that Denver is the “Mile high city” and that the 5000 foot altitude is taking its toll. So I take a rest for a couple of minutes, and everything is OK again, but I went real slow, from then on.
The flight to Branson was interesting. The airplane was a 90 passenger Embraer. It had full size luggage bins and four across seating. More like a junior airliner than a commuter jet, and very comfortable.
But one thing was unusual. The Airplane belonged to Midwest Airlines, and was in their livery. But the flight crew was with Republic Airlines, and the flight was billed as a Frontier Airlines flight. This wasn’t really doing Frontier any favors, as the cabin was dirty, and the cabin attendants surly.
But we made it to Branson with its brand new airport, and a terminal that looked astonishingly like a Bass Pro store. Which wasn’t too surprising, since Bass Pro corporate headquarters is only about a 45 minutes down the road at Springfield.
It was about 95 degrees outside, and the coat I was wearing to keep warm on the airplane did seem a bit superfluous, but Hugh and dog Cal were waiting with truck and trailer right outside the terminal, not more than 20 steps away. So there are some advantages to a (very) small airport
We were at the campsite, and getting set up, in about 30 minutes. And after a couple of beers we hit the sack early, as I had been up since 3:00 AM PDT.
But next morning we were up at 4:00, as Hugh had engaged a guide, and unexplainably, had agreed to meet him at the dock at 5:30 AM. My theory is that fish don’t wake up till 8:00 AM anyway, so being on the water before that is a colossal waste of time. And I was proven right again.
But guide Pete knew his business, and as an added bonus, was a retired oilman rather than a local Good ol’ Boy. And at 8:00 sharp the fish started cooperating, and we caught about twenty between us, for the day.
And here is a pic of Pete and his boat. $60,000 worth of boat, outboard and electronics.
Next day we decided to go it alone, renting our own boat. And although Pete had tried to teach us to be good bass fishermen, we didn’t do nearly as well without him.
And would you believe that the boat rental, gas, insurance, etc, cost about as much as Pete’s guide service, we had to use our own gear, and the rental agreement prohibited booze on the boat. That got me so dehydrated that back at camp I had to drink three beers in a row, before I could even pee.
Well, live and learn. But you can guess how we are going to play it next time.
Next day was more of the same, but by then we were smart enough to spend less time on the water and more in camp drinking beer.
All in all, it was a great trip. A few fish, and lots of male (and dog) bonding. And the Ozarks are spectacular in summer, with lots of great scenery and varied opportunities for recreation. Even if Branson itself is a bit hokey.
And to top it off, when the airplane taxied out on the return trip, the entire ground crew lined up and waved, just like in Japan, and the Captain announced that we were first in line for takeoff. Not surprising, since we were the only airplane in sight.
