'Dumb' fishin’ derbies and great things in life
Inaugural Pat Daly Invitational fly fishers embraced hot, tough conditions
James Morreale bounced his 1-year-old son, “Little J” (Jeffrey) in his arms as he stood near the exit of Heirloom Rustic Ales Sunday evening. Folks offered congratulations and patted the weathered winner of the Inaugural Pat Daly Fly Fishing Invitational on the shoulder on their way out the door.
It was a portrait of relief, joy, exhaustion, and satisfaction; a father with a face freshly sun-hued and hair naturally weathered by yet another 100-degree day on the water, his boy in his arms with a saliva-glossed grin and fingers in his mouth, and his wife, Julie, with her bright smile and clean, casual look, a neat contrast to balance the image.
Here, at the conclusion of the weekend-long fly-fishing derby she and her husband laughed at the line they agreed best defined their prior 48 hours: “I love you. I support you. But you’re dumb.”
Ain’t it the truth?
Any fishing derby can be an exercise in endurance and taking your chances against a creature with a brain the size of a pea. Weather and water conditions, changes in feeding habits and food sources, and just bad luck can combine to make the most skilled angler look like a dope. Multiply that by a factor of three when the temperature tops 100 degrees every afternoon and only drops to 83 overnight.
Still, headed into the weekend tournament, the smart money was on Morreale. He had the edge over anyone fishing the Arkansas River, where the biggest striped bass likely would be found. A person could win two of the other categories, for smallmouth bass, white bass, or largemouth bass, and have a total inch count equal to just one Arkansas River monster—if a real monster could be turned.
Morreale took the striper category win with a 31.5-inch beast from the Arkansas and tied for first in the largemouth category with a 17-inch largemouth from Lake Tenkiller. Hitting the top of two our of the four bass categories, plus bonus points for hybrid and spotted bass catches, put him well on top of the stack.
As it turned out, Scott Hood took first prize with a 16-inch white bass and Adam Beauchamp took first for smallmouth bass with a 14.5-inch fish. A.P. Fletcher tied with Morreale on the biggest largemouth with a 17-inch bucketmouth of his own.
Hood’s white bass was the lottery winner, one of about 24 tickets he purchased with a water-wrinkled and raw thumb on the Lower Illinois River Saturday. Fourteen- and 15-inch white bass are relatively common, but they just don’t get much longer than 16. At first, he thought that fatty had to be a hybrid but the ID was clear. It was a perfect specimen.
At Heirloom Sunday evening, downward looks and head shaking accompanied talk of the relatively short fish that won the largemouth and smallmouth categories. In fact, only two smallmouths caught all weekend met the 13-inch minimum. Tales were many of scorching heat, exhausting efforts, and the bigger ones that got away.
Next year will be different.
I had my own missed chances.
That big striper was no “gimme” for Morreale, either.
He and partner Bryon Helm hit the tourney with a drive that few others possess and honed knowledge of the striped bass, fly-fishing, and the Arkansas River that is rare.
His win was fitting in a tournament that honors the memory of a man who dedicated much of his conservation advocacy for the Arkansas and Illinois rivers, and who found so much joy in catching Arkansas River stripers.
If you ever asked Pat Daly how his river conservation fights were going, he’d tell you he might have raised some awareness and made a lot of noise but his positions often felt untenable. But Daly kept up the pursuit like an angler determined to land the big one, even if sometimes the failure of others to see his logic left him wondering if he was dumb. He knew he wasn’t. He just kept on casting at those political waters.
Morreale said he and Helm planned their derby strategy for months. With a “hall pass” from Julie, which Little J made her regret, he hit the weekend telling her he would be “in and out” Friday at 5 p.m. until the end at 4 p.m. Sunday.
Little J exercised his new penchant for waking up at least four times through the night while his father was out throwing string and feathers at the river all night long. The couple laughed about the moment Saturday when she called to ask if he would be coming home soon because she needed a break from Little J, and maybe a nap.
“If I went home I’d be taking a nap,” he said. “I slept 7 hours total this weekend.”
Sleepless, like father like son, like mother and wife. Fishing derbies are a family affair.
Yes, Morelle and Helm left the tournament kickoff at the Gadget Co. at 5 p.m. Friday, went out for dinner, and pushed Morrealle’s Towee, a skinny canoe-like skiff, into the Arkansas River at 8 p.m. for an all-night shift. Morrealle said they logged 14 hours on the water before they took a break to post their first catch to the tournament Facebook page.
But the 10 a.m. Saturday post failed to meet the rules. The photo of the smaller striped bass did not include a mandatory tournament keychain to prove it was caught by a tourney participant.
Dang it!
It was only a momentary “oops.”
Another hour and a half on the water and a move to a smaller, single-hook streamer at the end of his sinking fly line and 6 feet of 20-pound-test leader brought the tournament-winning 31.5-inch striper to hand.
Morrealle used a variety of flies over those many hours spent “between the dam and Gathering Place.” Knowledge of the river’s baitfish led him to change to the smaller fly that caught the largest fish.
“Any time you are fishing for predators you want something to act like the baitfish that’s in the wrong part of town,” he said.
Morrealle also landed a 24-inch hybrid striped bass. That’s a big chunk of fight right there, but it only counted for a fixed set of bonus points.
Helm also landed a big hybrid, and he landed a 23-inch striper, which took third place in the striped bass category.
Sunday morning saw Morrealle and Helm at Lake Tenkiller at 4:45 a.m. He landed a spotted bass for more bonus points and then that 17-inch largemouth. They also caught some smallmouth bass, but none met the 13-inch minimum to score.
Morrealle’s determination to win both the overall prize and the striper category earned him two new $1,000 Orvis Helios fly rods from The Gadget Co.
Prizes fitting for the effort.
As for me, well, like most of the rest of the field I enjoyed a heat-exhausting full weekend of fishing to the point I couldn’t physically stand to fish any longer. It was great to remember Pat Daly and to contribute to what will be a Trout Unlimited scholarship fund set up in his name through the local TU420 chapter.
I teamed up with Hood and caught two scorable fish, which included a nice (little) 19.5-inch striper (fourth place) and a 14.5-inch white bass that fell somewhere down in the middle of the pack. I watched as Scott caught the winning 16-inch white bass and was “guide” for our morning that landed him the third-place largemouth, a 13.5-incher. I felt good about that.
Like others, I set a hook on a largemouth that was big enough that I couldn’t turn it away from the brush where it broke my line. At the time it was just exciting, it was only later I considered it could have meant a new $1,000 fly rod.
Next time.
On my last cast of the tournament Sunday afternoon I delivered a popper to the water’s surface in tight, brushy quarters with a roll cast that was uncharacteristically accurate for me; a last-ditch, go-for-broke effort, right where that earlier bass escaped.
Ripples from the popper’s plop faded. A muggy post-rain breeze pushed the leggy chartreuse jewel closer to the willows, and a dragonfly approached on a flight path as if it were curious about this odd bug on the water’s surface.
Slap! A largemouth that easily would have taken second place was suddenly and fully airborne where the dragonfly had been.
It was something I’ve only seen before in paintings.
It drew a loud and involuntary, “HO-LY Sh—t!?” that Hood heard loud-and-clear across the pond. I’ll not soon forget that sight.
After being wholly out-fished by my partner, the big break-off in the brush, and the launch that missed my popper for the real thing, you might say the fish left me feeling dumb at the Inaugural Pat Daly Invitational.
But when it comes to fishing, even in a derby, the real prize is the opportunity to join in the attempt—even when, and perhaps, especially when, you’re left feeling dumb.
Just keep on casting.
Nice piece Kelly!
Good job!