Grandson Catches Trophy Gasconade River Smallmouth Bill Cooper for 7-29-20

I’ll never forget taking my 9-year-old grandson, Ronnie Cooper Austin, on a recent fishing trip to the Gasconade River near Vienna, Missouri. I suspect Ronnie will long remember the trip as well. He caught a trophy size smallmouth bass that would make any veteran smallmouth bass fisherman envious. The day dawned hot and still, one of the hottest July days we’d seen thus far this month. We prepared well. A small cooler pac contained plenty of water bottles and snacks. We wore shorts and took along plenty of sunscreen and towels for those dips in the river that were sure to come as the day warmed even more. Ronnie spends the summers with me and we are on the constant lookout for a new adventure. He had never ridden in my jet boat and seemed anxious to do so. We made our plans to go to the Gasconade. We readied our fishing rods, straightened the fishing tackle and cleaned the boat. We also made sure that our life jackets were on board. I prefer to hit the water at daylight, before it gets too hot. Ronnie, on the other hand, is not so much an early riser. We compromised. I woke him up about 7:15 a.m. He had a bowl of cereal while I made our lunches and put all the necessary gear into the bait and truck. I live about 30 minutes from the popular Bell Chute access provided by the Missouri Department of Conservation. A small primitive campground is maintained underneath a grove of giant sycamore trees, which provide excellent summertime shade. Pit toilets and a grand boat ramp round out the few facilities at the access. We arrived at the Bell Chute Access at 9:30 a.m. The campground was empty and the parking lot only contained one compact car. We had the river to ourselves. It looked to be a great day on the Gasconade. After I launched the boat, Ronnie guarded it while I went to park the truck. He insisted on shoving us off, so he could get in the water and get a little wet. He commented on how good the water felt. The air temperature already hung around 90 degrees and there was not a breeze. The Gascosage BassMasters had held a tournament at the access the previous Saturday. I told Ronnie that the tournament participants had released over 120 bass at the boat ramp. We motored just a short distance downstream from the ramp before we began fishing. I picked up a bait caster rigged with a YUM Dinger 5-inch Mardi Gras colored worm. Ronnie trapped a spinning rod rigged with a Arbogast Buzz Plug. We wanted to catch his first bass on a topwater plug. I dropped to the trolling motor and headed to the shaded east side of the river. A steep bank with rock rubble sloped to the water’s edge. I flipped the worm to the edge of the water and allowed it to sink. I fully expected a trike on my first cast. Didn’t happen. Ronnie flung his topwater bait with impressive accuracy and sputtered the frog across the surface. He continued his efforts with the enthusiasm of a 9-year-old boy. Several casts later, I felt the familiar tick, tick of a bass picking up my worm. I tried to set the hook. Ronnie had switched to a rod rigged with a blue/black fleck YUM worm. A few casts later he began yelling, “Pawpa, I’ve got one. A few seconds later, he swung a chunky 13-inch smallmouth bass into the boat. “I caught the first fish, Pawpa.” he said with obvious pride. I hooked a couple of decent fish, but both got off. It quickly became obvious that tiger fish that had been released at the access earlier in the week had already dispersed. We tightened our life jackets and headed the jetboat upstream. We came to a gliding halt after a gorgeous 7-mile ride upstream. Towering bluffs, draped in bright blue skies and puffy white clouds lined the river banks. Black turkey vultures spread their wings while perched on ancient cedar trees high atop the dolomite bluffs. Once we reached our destination upstream, we grabbed our worm rods and began casting. I immediately began getting hits in the rock rubble near the shoreline. I hooked a couple of bass, but both got off. Shortly, my line began mocking off quickly. I set the hook and my 7-foot rod arched heavily. I told Ronnie I had a good fish. We wished for a net. Momentarily the fish wore down, and I slid a chunky 18-inch largemouth bass into the boat. The big fish had come off of a sand bank. I ran the boat back upstream to repeat the drift. Less than ten feet away from where I caught the big largemouth, Ronnie yelled as his riot bent over, “Pawpa, I’ve got one. It feels really big.” Ronnie handled the fish well. He soon wore it down and I lipped his 18-inch smallmouth bass and swung it into the boat. He was thrilled and we took many photos before he released the gorgeous fish. A lengthy swim break refreshed us before we returned to fishing. We managed to catch two more 17-inch bass and a host of smaller ones, but nothing under 13-inches. I hooked one more big largemouth, but we only enjoyed the show as the big bucket-mouth went airborne and flung the worm back at us. It was a marvelous day on the Gasconade for Ronnie and I, one we will not soon forget. He summed up the day when he asked, “Pawpa, do I Get bragging rights for my trophy smallmouth?” Cutline: Ronnie Cooper Austin bested his Papaw with his trophy smallmouth on the Gasconade River recently.

San Felipe Fly Fishing for Tarpon Bill Cooper for 5-19

I stepped off of the plane in Merida, Mexico into 93-degree temperatures. The memories of ice and snow in Missouri melted away. I would be enjoying big city cuisine prior to heading to the tarpon rich waters of San Felipe and then to the jungles of southern Campeche State to hunt ocellated turkeys. I’m the guest of Jordi Gene, the owner of TanKab Outfitters. Jordi is passionate about the outdoors and a key figure in the outdoor industry in Mexico. We began planning my expedition while Jordi was a guest in the CnR Outfitters deer hunting camp, for which I worked in the fall of 2018. Jordi’s plans for the Yucatan sounded to good to be true. Upon my arrival in Merida, Jordi picked me up and delivered me to Casa De Camposampiero Hotel Boutique, near his home. The entire several block area once served as a working hacienda complex with many small homes and parcels of land. The charming area has now been swallowed up by a growing Merida, but retains its quiet neighborhood and peaceful surroundings. The comforts of Casa De Campsampiero lulled me into a tranquil sleep, while the cooing of pigeons and doves woke me early the next morning. I stepped out the door of my room onto a veranda, next to the pool. Morning doves drank at the pool. Within minutes coffee was served, followed by a delightfully delicious breakfast. Jordi and I spent the following day working at his office on a proposal for mangrove restoration and outdoor education for children. We paused often to talk about past hunts we had shared and those we were soon to enjoy. The following day Jordi’s driver transported me two hours to San Felipe, on the tip of the Yucatan coast, not far from where the Gulf of Mexico collides with the Caribbean. San Felipe is a small fishing village, well off the beaten path. Most residents are dependent on the sea for their living, working steadily with commercial nets ad pangas. San Felipe Fly Fishing guides Fito Avila and Pedro Figueroa met me at the BandB San Felipe. Dedicated fly fisherman, the talented pair of guides chattered rapidly, explaining to me the tremendous tarpon fly fishery which existed at San Felipe. After a late dinner at a local cafe, Fito and I agreed that we would pick me up at the motel at 6 a.m. the next morning. The morning came early, but I was up and ready to go. Excited is an understatement of my demeanor. A nervous energy pervaded our morning meeting. Fito tales in broken English, a bit concerned about me understanding him. We shared coffee and fruit before meeting up with Pedro at the marina, a mere 100 yards away. Pedro is a big fellow with a grin and handshake to match. We laughed and joked as we loaded the panga with our fly fishing gear, my camera gear, and a cooler with drinks for our morning expedition. I dreamed of my first hook up with a San Felipe tarpon as the small motor chugged to smoky life and slowly pushed the boat form the crowd of colorful pangas, which lined the docks, and into open water. Wind on the face felt so good in the 90 degree temperatures. Within in view of the village, Pedro shut the motor down and picked up a mangrove pole from the bottom of the boat. Shoreline mangroves stretched as far as the eye could see. We rounded a point and Pedro turned the long panga to enter a small freshwater river entering the ocean. I immediately spotted tarpon rolling under the beaches of mangroves overhanging the water less than 50 yards away. With the stealth of the jaguar, Pedro silently poled the panga towards the unsuspecting fish, as Fito readied his fly rod and tensed for action. Fito glanced at me with a nervous grin and began stripping line. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my cool and maintain a steady camera while Fito made his first false casts. The fly landed perfectly. Several baby tarpon swirled, but none ate the fly. A tarpon swirled 25-yards out. Like a cat hunkering to pounce on mouse, Fito lowered his profile and delivered a perfect cast, just fee ion front of the cruising tarpon. Strip, strip. The water exploded as the tarpon hit warp speed and inhaled the fly while simultaneously going airborne. Fito broke into what I later dubbed the tarpon two step. The 12-pound tarpon few towards the sky once again, and raced toward Fito at break neck speed as soon as it gained the water. Fito could not gain line quick enough to catch up. The fly fell from the tarpon’s bony mouth, a common occurrence when fly fishing for tarpon. Deflated Fito caught his breath, while Pedro poled around the bend and up the river. As my sight line cleared the overhanging mangroves, rolling tarpon dimpled the waters surface just ahead. A few cast later, Fito hooked up again and water splashed to the skies as the tarpon struggled gin freedom. In two mornings with San Felipe Fly Fishing, I caught and saw hundreds of tarpon, far more than I’ve seen on all of my previous expeditions elsewhere combined. To book a trip with San Felipe Fly Fishing, Google TanKab Outfitters.

Another Working Deer Camp in the Books Bill Cooper for 11-22-19

I traveled to Shannon County, Missouri for deer season 2019, where I participated in the third annual Driftwood Acres deer hunting camp. Seven of us gathered at Brandon Butler’s cabin on remote cabin. A menagerie of outdoor media folks and friends arrived from as far away as California, Indiana and Tennessee. Sam Ayres, a relatively new California based hunter and social media expert, made his first trip to the Ozarks and fell in love with it. Kevin Orthman, the executive director of the Professional Outdoor Media Association hailed from Nashville, Tennessee, while “Paddle” Don Cranfill of SmallWaterJournal.fish and fireman Eric Hoskins came in from Indiana. Myself and Brandon Butler, public relations director for Roeslein Alternative Energy, and “Shags” McLeon, of the KCMQ Morning Shags Show, out of Columbia, represented Missouri. Butler had peeked everyone’s interest in joining in on the fun by sending all of us trail camera photos of three monster bucks coming in to his place, plus a very large black bear. He did, however, take the third largest buck, a beautiful 145-inch buck with his bow the week before we arrived for camp. We all met on Friday afternoon at Butler’s rustic cabin, which most of us had worked on at one time or another. The cabin is decorated with many outdoor heirlooms which have been passed down through Butler’s family. His granddaughter’s mule deer and antelope mounts hang over the fire place, as well as a wide variety of nostalgic items donated from friends. My old Big Bertha frying pan, with a 3-foot handle, hangs on the front porch. The place is a dream come true for Butler, and certainly a cabin that every outdoorsman aspires to duplicate. Every imaginable type of outdoor adventure stories flowed around the cabin on Friday evening g as we dined on homemade chicken noodle soup, my wife, Dian had prepared for us. We gravitated to a huge fire ring of rocks out in the front yard of the cabin to while away the evening telling stories about elk hunts in the Rockies, southern style duck hunts, bear hunts in Canada, tarpon in the Yucatan, and the grandeur of floating and camping on Ozark streams. The evening fire grew dim as group members made last minute preparations for the opening day of the Missouri firearms deer season the next morning. A band of coyotes howled far away. A barred owl sounded off up the creek, and as the last of us gave up the fire, someone noted the yodels of running hounds far out in the hills. Little did we know how the dogs would affect our deer hunting efforts over the next few days. Phone alarms started going off early the next morning. A jolly atmosphere formed as the excitement of our hunting party hit a crescendo. Electricity crackled in voices as everyone bade one another good luck and headed out into the chilly darkness to their respective deer stands. I hauled a crew to their stands in a CanAm Defender HD10 6x6 UTV, provided to us by Cowtown USA in Cuba, Missouri. The 6-wheeled vehicle proved remarkable in some of the roughest terrain in the Ozarks. It traversed steep hills, even deeper ravines, logs over trails, streams and muddy bottoms with ease. Group members selected hard to get to locations deep in the hardwood covered ridges and ravines of public lands near the cabin. They chose remote locations knowing I could get them there in the CanAm. “Shags” and Ayres climbed out at Shags’s favorite spot deep in the wilderness. He had taken two good bucks in as many years, and hoped to share his good luck with Sam. They hunted a half mile apart on separate ridge lines that pitched off into steep sided valleys. Paddle Don and I continued another two miles into the 75,000 acre continuous block of hardwood ridges. We began our hike into our selected spots. Don would hunt an east-west ridge, while I would hunt a north-south ridge. We had scouted our respective ridges the previous day and founds lots of rubs and scrapes and other deer sign. We had high hopes of killing a buck as we bade each other farewell and faded into the darkness. Daylight was still an hour away when I settled into next to a massive white oak tree 75 yards above a bench that traversed the face of the ridge. It appeared to be a deer highway. Two hours later nothing had materialized, so I made a move across a saddle and into another hollow. By that time, numerous shots had rang out though the hills, I silently hoped some of my buddies had scored. I caught movement and came to a stop. Two does appeared. I settled the crosshairs of my scope just behind the shoulder of the largest doe and fired. The way she ran off, I knew she had not been hit. It had been an easy 90-yard shit, but upon investigation, I discovered I had hit a sapling, which deflected the bullet. At the end of the first day, no one in camp had killed a deer. However, almost everyone reported dogs with tracking collars that were running deer. Apparently there was a well orchestrated deer dog hunting campaign going on, which is illegal. The end result was foiled deer hunts for most of us. Shags did manage to nail a very good buck on the second morning, making it three for three for his honey-hole deer hunting spot. However, no one went home empty handed. Some recorded podcasts, others wrote articles, and I landed a new job writing for one of the larger fishing tackle companies, thanks to Kevin Orthman. We deemed our camp a success and vowed to return in 2020.

High Water and Big Smallmouth Bill Cooper for 4-18-19 Recent rains have swelled area streams, but that hasn’t deterred dedicated smallmouth fishermen from hitting the rivers and streams when water levels subside to safe levels. Facebook followers have enjoyed the products of area fishermen who chase smallmouth bass on a regular basis. They have caught some big fish in the last few weeks. Tommy Bench, of Gasconade Guide Service, knows heh upper Gasconade River like the back of his hand. “Bass on the Gasconade began breaking out of their winter patterns a few weeks ago,” he said. “Bass tend to group up in deep holes during the winter months. Usually in late February they tend to disperse, often for many miles up and down the river.” Bench grew up on the Gasconade and has decades of fishing experience on the river under his belt. “Experience certainly helps me find the bass each year,” he said. “Fish tend to hang in the same areas every season, unless their has been a major change in the river, due to flooding.” Rivers do change with every major flood. Gravel bars shift, major holes fill in, and structure, such as downed trees and rock rubble get moved around by the powerful forces of flood currents. A river is a living thing, constantly in a state of change. Those fishermen who consistently catch fish, in tune with the river and the changes that occur throughout a given year. “Change in the river is a constant thing”’ Bench said. “It is amazing what the powers of nature can do to a river. And that has been especially true in the last decade or so. We have seen major floods in recent years, the likes of which I’ve never seen before.” Record floods have redesigned area rivers to the point that they often don’t seem to be the same rivers when anglers get back on them after long periods of absence. “You don’t have to go far to see the changes in the Gasconade,” Bench said. “Look at the Jerome Access . Not only is the huge concrete access gone, but the parking lot is completely destroyed. Homes which had been alongside the river for decades are gone. Whole islands disappeared and new ones formed, as did gravel bars. It’s like a whole new world out there, particularly if you haven’t been on the river in a while.” Despite the changes in the river, Bench steadily caught smallmouth bass throughout the winter months and continues to do so. “High, stained water can make fishing a little more difficult, but I’ve been at it long enough, I can find fish on a regular basis.” Being on the Gasconade River is as normal to Bench as eating is to most of us. A full time guide, he is on the river several times a week, and is great source of information about the Gasconade. He is the host of “Wild at Heart Outdoor Radio,” on ESPN 107.3 FM each Wednesday evening. You can follow the show website at www.espn1073.com, or follow Bench on his Facebook page. Not only do you get the latest fishing information about the upper Gasconade, you also have the visual pleasure of seeing the huge smallmouth bass which Bench posts on a regular basis. Anyone who loves smallmouth bass fishing owes it to themselves to follow Tommy Bench. He is a topnotch smallmouth fishing guide and tournament fishermen. His information will improve your fishing game. Further south in the Ozarks, Billy Smith has Scenic Rivers Guide Service and Tours. He guides on the Jacks Fork and Current Rivers. Smith grew up in the area and worked maintenance for the Ozark National Scenic Riverways for decades. Now retired, he devotes his time to guiding fishermen and conducting river tours. Damon Spurgeon, of Cardiac Mountain Outfitters, and I fished with Smith two weeks ago on Current River below Eminence. The river was two feet high and slightly stained. We put in at the Two Rivers access, just below where the Jacks Fork enters Current River. The river flow clipped along at a stiff pace. “The river is high enough that the park service has closed this section down to canoe traffic,” Smith said. Despite the high, murky waters Smith felt confident that the could find fish. “I’ve been chasing walleye for the last few weeks,” Smith said. “However, I caught good smallmouth all winter long. Now they have transitioned out of their winter locations and have dispersed up and down the river. They are in the pre-spawn and are staging near their intended spawning areas. Smith stopped at a shoal where he had caught lots of smallmouth over the years. He instructed Spurgeon to cast towards a visible line where the shallow water of the shoal dropped to deeper water. “There he is,” Spurgeon said. “I’ve got one, too,” Smith responded. “We’ve got a double.” And so the day went on tthe Current River with guide Bill Smith. The fishing pair caught numerous smallmouth in the 17-to-19-inch range, with the largest weighing about 3 1/2-lbs. To schedule a trip with Billy Smith look him up on facebook.com/scenicriversguideserviceandtours, or call him at 573-225-3390.