Warm water, cold fishing | The Arkansas Democratic Gazette

PONCA — The water in the upper Buffalo River was warm Sunday.

The bath water is not lukewarm, but hot. It was very hot. This was only in two basins that apparently received no inflow from springs. There was no visible aquatic life in these pools; no tadpoles, no minnows, no suckers, no insects and no algae. These pools were very clear and the rocks were not slippery.

The rest of the pools were lukewarm making fishing very difficult.

For almost 30 years, I have taken at least one summer wade fishing trip to the Steel Creek Recreation Area on the Buffalo National River. Even in August, water is plentiful. It’s always cool and the fishing is always good. It’s so good that I rarely fish upstream from the last Steel Creek campsite. I almost always catch smallmouth bass and Ozark bass in every pool.

I expected no less on Sunday when I ventured north to enjoy a fabulous day in the Ozarks. I need fishing as much as I need air, food and water. It’s more nourishing when I’m actually in the water. This is where I feel connected. I measure each step, trying to slide my feet over the rocks and avoid pushing the waves against the bank.

Wade fishing allows for precise casts. You can work a rock or weed bed from every angle imaginable by simply taking a half step to the left or right. Often a step or two creates the angle that puts a bait in a spot where a bass simply won’t ignore it.

The sky was a bright blue on Sunday with only the occasional cloud to prove there was at least some moisture in the air. Two hikers entered the Buffalo River Trail as I arrived. A family grills hamburgers on the bank while children splash in the shallow water.

I used to frequently see elk in the Steel Creek fields, but I haven’t seen one in many years. I saw what appeared to be moose prints in the mud.

The water was very low. Even in August, usually the driest time of summer, the water in the middle of this pool is over my head in places. It was only chest deep at most on Sunday. The water was also extremely clear, lacking its usual green tint. Even with lots of frolickers in the water and a constant stream of kayaks, I usually catch a lot of small bass in this pool. I didn’t eat there on Sunday.

The next pools were shallow, but with a deep seam that cut against the right bank. There are plenty of rocks there, but the bass didn’t show up. My companion caught two longear crappie, one of them quite large.

Then came the first hot pool. It’s long, but we got through it without casting. In the pool above that one I caught a very small smallmouth bass and missed another one that was barely bigger than the bait.

By then I was at the base of Roark Bluff, the most spectacular feature of the Buffalo River. I marveled at its mottled streaks of black, white, gray and cream. At this distance I could see degraded limestone between layers of shale and sandstone. It is now a peaceful place where the birds quietly go about their daily activities. There isn’t much here to bother them, and there are plenty of places to escape and hide if a threat appears. They have nothing to fear from me and I’m grateful that they seem to agree.

I think about the violence that formed this place. The landmass that became the Ozark Plateau was once a shallow sea floor that rose dramatically with the cataclysmic collision of tectonic plates. Not far to the south, the Ouachita Mountains tell another chapter in this story. They once formed the southernmost part of the Appalachians and were pushed almost on an east-west axis. The Ouachitas are the only major mountain range that runs east-west and contain plant and animal communities that exist only elsewhere in the southern Appalachians.

I believe these two events happened simultaneously, that the force that pushed the Ouachitas westward resulted in the uprising of the Ozarks. All of these troughs and canyons were formed by the erosion of an entire ocean working its way down to the Gulf of Mexico.

Above me, on steep ledges, are ash junipers. They are spindly and spindly, but they are among the oldest trees in North America. I look up and around me and rejoice in having my feet firmly planted in what must be one of the coolest places on Earth.

Cool in its appearance. His temperature was burning.

Finally we reach the pool near the walk-in campground. It’s wide with a shaded bank to the right. It’s deep out there, with plenty of cover. At the very back of the pool I hook a 12-inch smallmouth bass, only my second of the trip. It was a long way to go for only two smallmouths and four longears, but it was enough. The trip was worth it.