Last weekend, former SGFer Aaron Scott went on an endurance fishing trip to raise money and awareness for rivers and streams. Scott’s team, Team Longboat, had quite an adventure. Below is his letter to fans of Team Longboat, including the thrilling story of the 24 hour Fish-A-Thon and results.
Aaron Scott and Team Longboat came away from the 24 Hour Fish-A-Thon with an incredible story and a bunch of loot for the cause.
Supporters of Team Longboat —
Thank you for donating on our behalf to Recycled Fish. As you probably expected, the 24 Hour Fish-A-Thon has given us a heck of a story to tell. When we took on the challenge of Recycled Fish’s 24 Hour Fish-A-Thon, we knew it would be an adventure. The North Fork of the White River is a spectacular stream that offers incredible adventures every day (and every night), and our time on the water would be no exception.
In the days leading up to the event, conditions on the river couldn’t have been better. The water was running low and clear. We would have the piscatorial advantage of a new moon. The seasonal “hex hatch” was giving birth to thick, meaty mayflies. We were going to absolutely slay. Like I said, it couldn’t have been better. On the flipside, it also could get a whole lot worse.
The night before the event, the remnants of Tropical Storm Hermine swept through the Ozarks, dousing the area with heavy rain. The river shot up a foot, and the discharge jumped from a leisurely 350 CFS (cubic feet per second) to an angry 1,100 CFS. (See the attached discharge graph with notations.) Still floatable, but fishing would be difficult. The river was murky with the dirt and dust that had dried during the late summer heat of August, now washed downstream by the downpour. The prime fishing holes on the North Fork, for a trout stream, are deep to begin with, and that’s without another foot of water and a flow several times stronger than usual. Fishing was going to be difficult, and we knew we would have to accept it. But we had taken on a challenge and, as long as the skies were clear and we could float the river safely, we were not about to back down.
When we all arrived at the River of Life Farm, we surveyed the river and mulled over our options. Floating in Kyle’s longboat would be safe but difficult. It could handle the stronger currents well, but taking our time, to pace ourselves for this 24 hour marathon, would be hard. We considered commandeering the Farm’s Clackacraft driftboat, which has the advantage of making backpaddling easy with its mounted oars. While taking the longboat was essential to our plans, the driftboat was starting to make a lot of sense—until we remembered the two low-water bridges that we’d have to float under—or portage over—on our trip from Kelly Ford to Patrick Bridge. Under normal conditions, the driftboat, which rides higher in the water than the longboat, wouldn’t have any problems floating under the low-water bridges; of course, if we were under normal conditions, we wouldn’t be considering a change in watercraft. So we arrived back at the longboat and decided to extended our float several miles to account for the faster flows.
That settled, packed up the boat, hitched the trailer to the truck, and headed to Kelly Ford. Despite the river conditions, the weather was perfect as we hit the water at 6:00 p.m., the official start of the Fish-A-Thon. With Kyle guiding the boat downriver in the stern, Brian and I began fishing. As the sun set on the horizon, we stopped to work the Falls at the Farm, one of the most significant features of the North Fork. It’s a prime spot to find big fish and overturned canoes. The runs just above and below the Falls, a broken ledge that extends all the way across the river, provides great holding water for trout. We knew they were in there, but with the high water, it was tough to actually find them. With the evening settling in, we continued on, hoping for even a smidge of luck.
With night falling, we arrived at the campsite that Kyle and Brian had scouted out earlier in the day. With the gravel bar underwater, we were pushed up onto the bank with enough room for a small fire. (Much to Brian’s chagrin, the area was littered with otter scat.) While camp was set, we took turns fishing the immediate area. If it weren’t for the fire and a couple lanterns, the river would have been pitch black, illuminated only by the billions of stars that were visible overhead. It would not be the only time that night when we were humbled by the power and immensity of nature, of creation.
After a quick dinner, we hiked back through the woods and found a spot to climb down to the river. We waded carefully in the dark, searching for the likely spot of a hungry brown, casting heavily weighted nymph rigs with glow-in-the-dark indicators across the . Throughout the night, we noticed flashes of light across the clear sky. Even though the sky was crystal overhead, it was obvious that a storm was lurking miles and miles away. At the time, we had nothing to worry about, other than wondering when we’d land that first fish, that serendipitous creature, relieving the strain of bad fortune, making it all worthwhile.
Around 2:30 a.m., we headed back downstream to the campsite, ready to plan a new strategy; however, we noticed an increased frequency in the lightning flashes. As the sky lit up, I noticed clouds forming over the hills above the western bank of the river. Brian checked the weather on his phone and, sure enough, there was a thick band of thunderstorms heading straight to the area. We debated a course of action and planned evasive maneuvers. We didn’t want to be caught on a rising river in the middle of the night. Luckily, Brian had stashed his car near the campsite, loaded with overnight essentials that we didn’t need in the boat. At 3:00, a after packing everything we could into the car, dousing the fire and loading up the boat, Brian drove back to the farm to retrieve a trailer. Kyle and I shoved off from the site and headed downriver to Blair Bridge, the closest public access, about a mile downstream. It was then, at that instant, that the sky opened up.
We were hammered by rain, falling so hard and thick that we couldn’t see but a few feet past the bow with our headlamps—the only visibility came with the flash of lightning. Thunder shook the strong, stable longboat, in turn giving strength and speed to our relentless paddling. We covered the distance as quickly as we could and took cover underneath Blair Bridge, barely wide enough to protect the twenty-some-foot longboat. By the time Brian returned, the rain had lightened. We loaded the longboat and headed back to the Farm to wait out the storm, to see what effect it would have on the already-swollen river.
Ultimately, the early-morning torrent that interrupted our efforts teaches a lesson that is at the core of Recycled Fish—respect for Mother Nature. Through stewardship education, the organization teaches people how to take better care of the waters, of the fish, of the Earth that we love. And that’s one way to show respect. Another way is to yield to nature’s power, to realize when the forces of nature are no match for mere humans. While we had to retreat from the surging river, we did so out of respect.
On Saturday, with clouds still on the western horizon and the river running even higher and faster than the day before, it was clear we would not chance another float. Instead, we waded the Falls again and, in the early afternoon, Kyle landed Team Longboat’s first fish of the trip – a beautiful wild rainbow. After it was measured and photographed, we released it back into the river. We caught a handful more before the 6:00 p.m. deadline, but the two rainbows that we measured, out of the seven or eight that we landed, would be no match for the catch-and-release contest of the Fish-A-Thon.
Fortunately, that is beside the point because, while the fishing was next to impossible, you helped make something else possible—meeting our fundraising goal. Your donations placed us at the top of all teams in fundraising, bringing in over $1,200 for Recycled Fish. That money is going to go a long way to help educate anglers, sportsmen and other outdoor lovers how to be better stewards of our environment. To put it in a physical context, every dollar donated to Recycled Fish can be turned into three pounds of trash removed from our lakes and river—meaning your donations could amount to the removal of over 3,600 pounds of trash that are currently polluting our waters. And, for those of you in the Ozarks, that will soon hit close to home—Recycled Fish has a lakeshore cleanup event planned for Table Rock Lake in October.
Again, thank you for your contribution. Your support means so much to us, and I’m sure we’ll all continue to benefit from those contributions as Recycled Fish teaches more and more people how to improve our world. Special thanks to the River of Life Farm on the North Fork; the Feather-Craft fly shop in St. Louis; the Dynamic Earth Equipment gear shop in Springfield; the Backcountry Outfitters fly shop in Springfield; the Angler’s Edge tackle shop in Ozarks; and The Coffee Ethic coffeeshop in Springfield, the official caffeine fix of Team Longboat. If you have a chance, please support these great businesses.
Thank you!
—Aaron J Scott / TeamLongboat.com
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