Phil Lilley

I've never been plagued by a lack of a sense of personal responsibility. In fact, those who know me might tell you that they have seen firsthand how one can be overly-consumed by a sense of responsibility to one's own detriment. At the very least they would tell you I can be a pain in the posterior at times. A career counselor once told me I should have been born during the Great Crusades. And I have certainly jousted with my fair share of windmills thinking they were dragons at the time. As fly-fishermen, we load our toolboxes...fly boxes and vests...with everything we can carry for every possible variation we believe we may encounter on a day of fishing. Many of us carry flies in various assortments that we cannot even remember the last time we actually used. But we take comfort in knowing we have them...just in case. I've been known to carry two rods as I wade along a stream - usually a short 4-weight and a nine foot 6-weight. You just never know, do you? I pride myself on being prepared. I even lock my car doors inside my own garage. So it is with some pang of guilt and shame that I put pen to paper to tell the tale of one day last week on the very same stream I had fished the day before - the very same stream which, not twenty-four hours prior, had yielded to me my personal best Brown trout, a twenty-three-and-a-half inch bruiser of which I've written before. I'm not going to bore you with the details, but let's suffice it to say that, as I walked out of the stream and headed toward the car, I passed two gentlemen who were on their way in at dusk. Predictably, they asked me if I'd had any luck. Luck - now there's a loaded word if there ever was one! My "Hardshell Baptist" parents didn't raise me to believe in luck. Everything boiled down to decisions and consequences. And the pair of anglers chuckled at my reply. "I threw everything at them but my fly rod," I explained. The rest of the story was instinctively understood. Yes, I had been skunked. I really did try every single fly variation in both of my fly boxes. I cast at least seven different nymphs, four different emergers, and three different dry flies in the attempt to catch even one trout. And nothing had even yielded a strike. Several fish rose to inspect my dry fly offerings, but none was convinced enough to sip one in. The fish were even feeding well. I just didn't have in my possession a reasonable facsimile of the fare on which they were selectively dining. When I was a younger man, I would have been furious with myself. I would have been thoroughly convinced that every other angler whom I had seen that afternoon had observed my failure to connect. I would have gone on a campaign to rework my fly boxes to prevent such a thing from ever happening again! And I would have told no one that I had not even gotten a bite. No - I'm serious. I've also gotten older, and…I hope...a bit wiser. Everyone gets skunked sometimes. There is simply no way to be completely prepared for every possibility life can throw at us...even on a trout stream. In fact, this unpredictable, complex menagerie of myriad possibilities and combinations of possibilities is, for me, the allure of fly-fishing. This is the wellspring from which pours the challenge that draws me inexorably toward the source like a moth to the flame. Master this challenge, and the magic disappears. Thus was the nature of my thoughts on the drive home. Fly-fishing, for me, is not all about success or failure. To some substantial extent, it is about enjoying the process itself. Yet, who would argue that they would rather not catch fish? That is the greatest "fish story" of all. But what is success without failure? Would my previous day's victory with that big Brown have been as sweet if I had never tasted the bitterness of failure? Can one truly enjoy a sunny day if he has never endured several straight days of cold, gray rain? If every other day were Christmas, would children lose any sleep on Christmas Eve? It is OK to fail. In fact, it is essential that we do so from time to time. It is also OK to admit it. Those two fellows I passed on my way to the car got a hearty chuckle from my admission of incompetence. Hearing their laughter even made me feel better than I had the moment before. And certainly as the sun does rise in the morning, I will enjoy the next fish I catch that much more for the experience of catching none that afternoon last week. For me, I have learned that humility includes the ability to accept one's own shortcomings in the same manner one realizes one's own strengths. And in this knowledge I find peace with myself. And I look forward to my next day on the trout stream. ~ Ken

Arkansas' Spring River was first stocked with trout around the turn of the century. Today, a modern hatchery operation is maintained by the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission on an island just below Dam #3 and is accessed via State Highway 342. Rainbows, Browns, Cutthroat, and Brook trout are stocked regularly. The Kroger food company donated the hatchery to AGFC in 1985. USFWS also operates a hatchery in the town of Mammoth Spring, near the source of the Spring River. Mammoth Spring discharges 9 million gallons of 58-62 degree water every hour into the river, creating ideal habitat for a variety of fish species in addition to trout. The first 10 miles of the Spring River is considered trout water, but the first 2.5 miles from Mammoth Spring to Dam #3 consists of ideal fly fishing water and higher trout densities than does the downstream portion. I first fished the Spring River for trout and Smallmouth Bass as a boy in the 1970s on family vacations to Cherokee Village, a resort on the banks of the Spring River some 16 miles downstream from Mammoth Spring. So it was a very fitting location for a reunion this past week with my oldest brother, home on leave from the war-torn Persian Gulf. The Spring River doesn't hold the most fish, the prettiest fish, or even the biggest fish in the Ozarks. But it is the largest spring-fed river that offers trout fishing in Arkansas. And it holds a special place in the hearts of my brother and me. We were both looking forward to fishing her waters together again for several weeks prior to our reunion on her shores. My wife and I arrived Wednesday at lunchtime. We parked the truck in front of my brother's condo in the spot next to his newly acquired vintage Shelby Cobra. The weather in Northeast Arkansas in July is usually sultry, with temperatures hovering around 100 degrees and plenty of humidity adding insult to injury. But this day it was a pleasant 84 degrees. It would remain mild for the duration of our trip, making our outdoor activities and conversations on the condo's back deck much more pleasant than usual. We went inside to greet my brother and his wife. We spent the first afternoon catching up on each other's lives and activities of the past 18 months. We had dinner at a locally famous catfish restaurant. We returned to the condo to spend a very pleasant evening out on the deck overlooking Thunderbird Lake discussing the things families discuss during reunions..."the kids," work, politics, current events, and our favorite, new TV commercials. Understandably, we spent a good amount of time on subjects pertaining to the war in Iraq and Afghanistan…a subject that has consumed every waking moment of my eldest brother's life for the past 12 months. But we also discovered the magic of lighted ice cubes! Thursday was dedicated to fishing the Spring River for trout. We decided to sleep in, and head up whenever we got up and got around to it. We arrived at the Lassiter Access on the Spring River about 10 o'clock on Thursday morning. Wading into the Spring River, I was conscious of a "homecoming" sort of feeling. The comfort born of familiarity separated by time and distance flowed over me as the water tumbled past my legs. Our reunion was complete... two brothers and a river that has served as a strategic meeting place for over three decades. I cannot explain it precisely - or even in a way that probably makes much sense. But there is a mystical ...perhaps metaphysical…healing triangle between the three of us: my brother, the river, and me. We caught some trout, of course. But that always seems to be a relatively insignificant peripheral to our outings on the Spring River. We watched as a grandfather introduced his grandchildren to the joys of catching trout on a Snoopy Pole. I couldn't help but hope this grandfather and his grandchildren might also experience a similar bond...held together by the cool waters of the river and the trout that lie below her surface. Our visit was too short. The pressures of professional life for my wife and me, and the weighty responsibilities of waging war for my brother curtailed our visit... condensing it to its basic elements. Friday morning we said our good-byes and pointed the truck back towards Branson. It will be yet another year before the chance to fish the Spring River with my oldest brother presents itself again. Anything can happen in such a long span of time. But for this brief moment, we had our reunion at the river. The mystical triangle was completed once again. And somehow we both knew we were better men for the experience. I wonder if the river knows... ~ Ken

I was aimlessly surfing the Internet this afternoon, waiting for the looming thunderheads to disgorge themselves of the moisture which they portended to deposit, when I stumbled upon the website of Japanese designer, fly-fisherman, and wildlife artist, Yoshikazu Fujioka, entitled "Trouts and Seasons of the Mountain Village." As a young man in the United States Navy, I spent three years living in Northern Japan. Much of my free time was spent exploring the high mountain lake region of Towada in the Hakoda Wilderness, and it was not uncommon for me to happen upon fly-fishermen on my hikes. But it was cost-prohibitive for a young American sailor in those days to fish legally in Japan ...especially fly-fishing. So I would sit quietly and watch these anglers ply their craft in the dramatic pastoral beauty of the Japanese countryside. Thus, it was with reminiscent intrigue that I began exploring Fujioka's website. The story Fujioka tells to the ethereal audience through this modern medium that is the Internet is one of timeless natural beauty and the capacity of mankind to both appreciate its essence and to capture and share some portion of her gift with others. I could not help being struck by the transcendence of the fact that this Japanese businessman had combined the ancient arts of fly-fishing and painting with the modern skill of website design in much the same fashion as we do here in America. With deft manipulation of streams of ones and zeroes, paint and canvas, rod and reel, he touched me, stirred my memory and my soul, and conveyed a lifetime of practice, learning, observation, and joy…defying time and space in the process. The passion that would lead a man to create such a wonder of communication gave me pause to consider: what is it about fly-fishing that drives us - all of us - to share it with others? What transforms the simple practice of harvesting food from nature to a lifelong obsession and the desire to share that passion with those around us? Is it the connection we make with nature that becomes so tangible when we hook up with a trout? Is it the observation of the beauty around us? Or is there something about the rhythm and timing of the cast, the fastidiousness required of our knots and fly tying? Or is it all of the above? And then, with the sudden and fitting clarity possessed and relished no better than by the Oriental mystics themselves, I realized my questions were standing in the way of the real object of my discovery. I took a deep breath and simply basked in the marvelous realization of what it means to be a fly-angler in the twenty first century...by the anachronisms entwined in the moment...and by the shear weight of what it truly means to be a "fly-angler on-line." To visit Fujioka's website for yourself, see http://www.itow.com/amago/index2.html . The artwork is superb in the tradition of the Japanese naturalists. The stories of fishing exploits, streams, and villages are rich with color and detail. The overview of trout and salmon species is complete with illustrations by the artist. And through it all Fujioka's passion for nature, his love of fishing, and his keenly Japanese sense of belonging to it all abounds. It makes for a very interesting cross-cultural experience on a rainy day when you aren't on your favorite stream. Enjoy.

http://mdcgis.mdc.mo.gov/website/mdcactivity/viewer.asp The news release is coming out next week for this site... I think. Anyhow, it's been on the site for awhile but I don't think anyone knows it's here. Check it out! You have to zoom in... way in to see detail on the lakes. Table Rock and other SW lakes have recent brush piles marked with GPS locations. OK - I couldn't get to where I wanted to go thru the website itself but typed in this and got there - http://mdcgis.mdc.mo.gov/website/table_rock/viewer.asp

http://whiteriverlodgebb.com Bill Babler's place.

I'd say everything is open down here. Very little ice left and it's supposed to get really warm the next few days.

And I missed it... Yes Shelly is our winner. We'll have to see who she is!

I'm back- not muchto report but that the bird population around Greensburg took a nose dive from '05. We got a bird a piece for our effort but had a great time of fellowship and lots of walking. Thanks Dano!

Going to Kansas to bird hunt. Dano is in charge so don't beat him up too much.

December - April with the best chance in January-February. We need cold temps and running water. Haven't had enough of either the past 3-4 years to have any significant kill.

AKflyfisher, I fished the Naknek in mid August and we still saw rainbows chasing smelt. The owner of the camp said he was till slaying rainbows on smelt patterns well into July and first of August... I know that's late but I guess there's alot of smelt in the Naknek system. Eggs- I'll let you be the expert on them. We started using eggs when we were there for sockeye in late August but the rainbows loved them too.

I'd say alittle early but I'm not an expert... yet. But I'm sure the smelt migration will be hot and heavy so streamers would work great. Smelt

I think OSU and Michigan would be the better game but... If Michigan wins, there'll be a big stink. They'll probably pick OSU and Florida but OSU will win big.

Welcome. I, too, fell in love with your state- so much so I'm investing in a camp on the Naknek River and taking people up to fish this summer. I've fished the Kenai and the King Salmon area but hope to explore more as time goes on. But there's plenty of great water here in southern MO and northern AR you will find.

Parade starts at dark- about 5:30 p.m. I have 2 pots on the stove simmering. Should be just right by tomorrow night.

I use 1/2 venison and 1/2 beef, about 10 pounds total. I blend up 4-5 cans of pinto beans and then add another can or two, depending on how much I fix. 3 cans of tomato paste 5 cans of tomato sauce or tomato pieces. I don't like chunks in my chili so I blend it all up. 2-3 jars of Jalapenos blended, depending on how hot you like it. water as needed salt and chili powder The longer it sits, the hotter it gets. This makes about 3 gallons of chili I don't measure so you're on your own in that regard.

Hard to say this far out...

Our church is having (annual) chili feed and contest tomorrow evening after the parade. It's located behind Empire Electric off Main and 3rd. Covenant Life Church. Chili will be served after the parade. Entries for the contest- chili must be there be 5 p.m. We'll have TONS of chili so if you're in the area, please come by and help us eat it!!

You're in good company. Roaring forum and the Buffalo are popular subjects here. Welcome!

Had a request for a new forum. Had to think about it a bit but it makes sense. Alot of people on this forum are trout fishermen and we've already broke the OK border so I thought it'd fit. Anyone had any experience on this fishery? I need a description if someone has one.

Who knows what they think. But a jig first has alot of action and movement, even if they're just drifting in the current. I've watched trout follow-follow-follow and then make their move as the jig action is paused and the jig is dropping- that's when they hit a jig 90% of the time... when it dropping. They can't stand not to taste it. But when there's shad in the water, is doesn't matter. They will take a white jig with aggression.

My kid called and came over to the house last night at... midnight. Normal for a college boy. He and a couple of friends came over for sleds. The went down the road north of WalMart- Forsyth Rd? Anyhow- they lived... lived to get back to campus in time for an annual tradition at College of the Ozarks (one I hadn't heard of till this year). 70 boys "streaked" from the dorm to the chapel and back at 1:30 am. My youngest son (freshman) said most had their skivies on. Marsha said that's not streaking- not in our day. But seeing 39 students were either suspended or put on probation a few weeks ago, they may have taken the safe way to go.

Don't think you could the whole thing in... better do SIO3. We'll know. Others will think you're a special agent or something.

Thanks for... finding us! We are always looking for people from varying lakes to share information with... and to share aspects about their lakes- like Stockton. I've fished there a few times, mainly the lower lake by the dam and rip rap. I hope to get back there this spring. Make yourself at home!

Still have quite a few to give away- don't think you've missed out.