Thread: Arkansas Crappie Trek Part I

I'm just hopin' to get lucky and get on 'em, LOL!

Hearing some nasty rumors about some fish being caught. I need to be payed off to stay away from the hot lakes. Hate to shut the bite down just by showing up. Met a buncha fine folks down here already.

Billbob, stay away from my woman.

It's back to the salt mine tomorrow, but in the mean time, the ACT story must continue. After several days away from the story, my thoughts have scattered like shot at quail after a covey rise, but here goes...

No Crappie so far after fishing Beaver, but we are to stay behind the locked gates of Hot Springs Village and surely a crappie will bite, but I can feel the dark mojo getting stronger as each mile passes under our vehicle. We arrive at HSV on monday and as I gazed out into the forest at our place of lodging, it seemed the trees were mocking me sticking out their tongues and the wind through their branches seemed to be whispering "no crappie, no crappie, no crappie", but perhaps it was only my mind playing cruel tricks after fight the traffic from Rogers, Ar to HSV, but again...was it my mind?????

Tuesday morning brought a beautiful day with turkeys gobbling in the woods around us while having breakfast on the back deck of VRBO #193378. We took a morning break from fishing and tried to catch up with c.com member cache22 to get some fishing tips for HSV. After several missed calls both directions we decided to fish lake Cortez. The evening bite was sparse for us and after fishing till dark with only a few fish, none made it to the place of honor in the fish box. The dark mojo was becoming stronger almost to the point of being unbearable, but it was still early in the week and it was a possibility with the hot bite going on down south a crappie would still find it's place into the sandwich sized ziploc bags I had brought along to place my filets into, since this size had always been adequate before. Wednesday found us on the road again to visit the in-laws on lake Conway and recharge the mental batteries for the task of catching a fish down south.

Sandwich bags ain't gonna cut it down here Randal, LOL! You better get the gallons......or at the very least the quarts!!

After some good groceries and mental rest. We departed for parts south on thursday without fishing Conway. We arrive at Lake Village and get settled in the Ramada and decide to drive through Pecan Grove campground to see if we can find anyone we know. Almost at dark Carol and I stumble on some friendly looking people setting around getting their relax on so we parked the ride and walked back to find several Crappie.Com members. Steve48, Harold, Laserbeam, Crappie Pro, Midsouth Man and Shannon, and Ski Trip led by the one the one and only Bill Bob were there, and I sensed their nervousness even though they attempted to hide it with their easy going banter. I could practically read their minds and as I introduced myself, and they were thinking "RCC is here, notorious for not catching fish...what if he...by some strange freak, cosmic occurance, should catch more fish than I. It could ruin my reputation for life". As I gripped each hand I tried my best to squeeze just a little bit harder to make them doubt their own fish catching abilities. After many stories among which I learned my new favorite phrase "hold on cupcake", which I try to use as often as opportunity will allow, I voiced my concerns about my boat. While not worth much, it was the only boat I carried with me and leaving the SS leaksalot in the Ramada parking lot was causing me much consternation. Of course good Crappie.com members couldn't turn down another member in need and Ski Trip asked if I would like to leave my boat there that they would keep an eye on it. I weighed this over in my mind "me watch my boat and lose sleep worrying about it, or Ski Trip watch my boat and he lose sleep worrying about it" after weighing this for approximately 1.6 seconds, I decided that Ski Trip should lose sleep watching my boat and besides this would have one member at a possible disadvantage to be out fished by me since he wouldn't be quite as sharp feeling the gentle bite of a crappie after being up all night watching my boat. So it was all set. My boat would be left with Ski Trip and Crappie Pro. Sensing an opportunity, inspite of my boat hosts being so kind and helping me out, I decided I would have a little fun at their expense. We were in my wifes jeep and the steering wheel is on the wrong side...yes, THE S T E E R I N G W H E E L, is on the wrong side. It is a little strange to drive down the road and a bit different to back a trailer while sitting on the wrong side of the truck. My plan was to tell a sob story about backing the trailer and talk one of the C.C members into helping me out by backing the trailer, in the dark, from the wrong side, while I watched from the outside and giggled like a school girl at their attemps while they first got into the vehicle on the wrong side, discovered no steering wheel, getting back out, going around the truck,and finding the steering wheel, then trying to back a strange trailer, in a strange vehicle, into a small unlit area. I departed the gathering and went to pull the rig around closer. Knowing that if they saw me get out it would ruin my practical joke, I stopped well short of the RV and started walking where I met my victim...Crappie Pro, coming around the corner to drive the jeep with the steering wheel on the wrong side. I could barely contain my mirth as Russ strolls straight out to the vehicle and gets in.....THE RIGHT side....how does Russ know to get in the right side...someone has sold me down the river...ruined my practical joke. Not only that, Crappie Pro snaps the jeep into drive pulls forward, yanks the jeep into reverse and without a bobble puts the trailer perfectly into the parking spot while I stand there with my mouth open and eyes as big as saucers. My practical joke ruined. Not only was it just barely ruined, it was completly destroyed. Russ I found out later and spent time in Japan driving RHD vehicles, and driving ours was no problem. It was then I realized that the mojo...the "DARK" mojo had reached an F5 on the Fujita scale and I had developed some strange charcteristics one being a twitch, and the other being a maniacle snicker, which sounded something similar to a squirrel up a tree barking at a stray cat passing through the yard.

The next day finds a rainy dawn. This I felt was the dark mojo reaching a feverous pitch and as I looked out into the dreariness, I twitched just a little and snickered the maniacle squirrel sounding snicker. I could sense my dark mojo was shutting down South Arkansas and possibly parts of Mississippi where several C.Com member were planning on fishing. No one was even going to get to fish. It was to be a rain out and my dark mojo had defeated EVERYONE. But wait, the rain was slacking and people were loading up. I felt obligated to play along with the fishing facade since I had driven far and claimed to be a crappie fisherman, so I went to retrieve my boat and trailer. I was met by Ski Trip who through tired eyes declared that the wheels were still on the trailer and it was ready to go. Without a smile, I inspected my gear looking to find a small extra scratch that had happened overnight so I could complain. Finding none, I proclaimed my thanks my saying "help me hook her up, I believe the rain is quitting".

Reaching lake Washington in Mississippi, I found the boat launches full of boats and optimistic fishermen telling glowing reports of great crappie catches throughout the week and the day before. Not one suspected that today would be different. As we launched and made our way across the lake, I could feel the forces of the good mojo and the dark mojo at war. As we fished through the day, I began to run across people with looks of despair on their faces. Across the water I could hear puzzled voices saying, "they were here yesterday I wonder where they went". No doubt the crappie had heard of my arrival and had departed from lake Washington the night before. After spreading the dark mojo up and down the lake until approximately mid afternoon Carol and I departed the lake at 2:47. As we drove away from Mikes bait shop my wife said. Do you need to me to drive? You keep jerking the steering wheel, and what's that strange sound sound you keep making? Do you need a cough drop. You sound like the squirrel in the yard barking at that stray cat that comes by.

We arrived at the Crappie.Com steak feed which was obviously prepared while my dark mojo was still across the state line since it turned out delicious. The chefs did an excellent job preparing and much work was evident by the tables and chairs set up and all the great food sat in front of us. Crappie Pro and Ski Trip finally arrived and I approached them expecting to hear some sad story but instead they were wound tighter than an 8 day clock saying they had got on them pretty good and had about 50. I had spoke with them on the lake earlier in the day and they had just a few so I asked what happened. They told me that they kept on fishing and about mid afternoon at 2:48 or so the crappie had really turned on. I did not understand. I sensed my dark mojo was beginning to weaken.