It's Like Playing Cards with my Brother's Kids....or, Fishing at Roaring River State Park

I am proud of this picture, not that I did anything other than push the button.  This is the cave at the end of the sidewalk which winds around the trout hatchery at Roaring River in Cassville, Mo. 


This is where the mammoth trout hang out, right at the mouth of this cave.  You can buy feed for 50 cents and toss it at them, as if they need more food they don't have to work for.

 This is the view of the hatchery, where they raise a gazillion trout per second by injecting the females with oxygen & then squeezing the males.  In my brain, I still had questions as to how exactly these two separate processes made baby trouts, but thought if the girls were ok with this explanation, then I would be too.

 This is how I spent a good day and a half, watching trout gather around my lure, roll their eyes, and swim away (or not).   Not that I'm complaining.  I could hang out in these surroundings for about a day and half without becoming totally impatient about no fishes on the end of my line.

 Ahhh...they almost look like they did not fight all the way up the serene mountain to the lookout spot and then pose sweetly, for another picture that looks like they are precious angels to each other all the time.

MC is a mini-me.  She fished and fished and fished, looking for that perfect spot, trying to cast into any spot that screams "do not cast here - you will get hung up - & then, someone will have to stop fishing to put another lure on for you, after they warned you to not cast near the tree."

Her first cast, she reeled this in before Jonathan and I had even lugged the rest of the stuff down to the bank.  At this point, we were excited to think that the rest of us would soon be pulling in our limit.  This was beginner's luck or the slowest trout in the river, we realized later.  

You could see tens of trout at each little stretch, you could throw out tens of various lures on top of their heads.  They would look, smell, roll their eyes, and continue on their way or stare you down.  Not fair!  We had followed all the rules and regulations at the park which varied depending on which bait store clerk you spoke with.




Actual quotes from locals:


"If you are going to keep fish, you have to buy one of our stringers for $5.  If not, you don't need one.  But, if you catch and release and a fish does not make it, (and you are caught) you can be fined $500."

"The new game warden is a real young gung-ho guy.  Just keep your head down, sign your permit. If you don't, he asks you if you need a pen, and whatever you do, do NOT crack any jokes." 

"No live bait can be used in zones 1 and 2, only zone 3."  So, we ask where zone 3 is and he says, "it's impossible to get to, snakey, and not good for kids." 

Jonathan had the pleasure of re-luring the girls' lines every ten minutes and I think he only wound up actually catching one fish.  If Johnny is not catching fish, something's off, in my experience.  You look around at the 75 people crowding around the 50 ft stretch of zone 1, throwing every kind of artificial lure permittable by Mo. law in the water, and 99% of us, come up empty? 


I found myself in a conversation with an old-timer. I use that term respectfully, by the way, and am close to being one myself who told me his theory on the lack of trout being caught.  He said that the trout who are making their way down the narrow strip of water called "roaring river" have been caught a few times more than your average fish and have learned to leave lures alone.  This did make sense.  What did not make sense to me was this:  You have 10,000 gazillion trouts in the hatchery.  People drive hours to come and stay and fish.  I understand some of the rules (like making us tag ourslelves like cattle), but why not ease up on the bait choices so the kiddos can catch a fish or two? Or in our case, so the adults can catch a fish or two?




MC had been listening to my "this place is wack with their crazy- no worms- rules" and as we were pulling out of zone 1 to head to the cabin (fishless) she yells out the window:  YOU'RE NOT GOING TO CATCH ANY FISH ON LURES!  I was just about to get on to her for this, but the looks on the faces of the long line of fisherman, permits dangling from their hats, was so worth it.

Maybe I'm just bitter because everyone in the family caught one except me.  In Madi's case, we weren't quite sure what it was, but it sure looked angry.