Tired and frustrated, I stopped in Ava, MO to think. Oxford was another five hours east and Little Rock was too far southwest. Despite the heavy rains, I decided to Google "Fly Fishing, Arkansas" and Cotter was my first link. "Trout Capitol, USA, Population: 921, The White River " was how Wikipedia described the town. So, on a whim, I drove south to explore. I arrived in Cotter just before noon, and after grabbing my license and flies, I drove to the Norfolk Dam to fish.
I got to the water around 1:00PM as two men were leaving. They reported on their day and recommended fishing the faster waters. With the water levels high from the continuous rain and without a boat, I was stuck wading within 20ft from shore, about 50ft from fast waters. The rain continued that entire afternoon. By 4:00PM, I got my line tangled beyond recognition and as I attempted to remedy the situation, an elderly gentleman from Wisconsin sat down next to me to talk shop. "The afternoon is dead. You should have been here this morning. I caught at least 5 fish in the first hour alone," he said to me (I bet they were all 20" and over, too). It was about this time that a large Brown Trout swam to our feet kicking and fighting for life. Eventually he went belly-up, but with a poke of my rod, mustered an extra life and swam away. He returned a minute later only to go belly-up once more. No longer able to be revitalized, the Wisconsin man and I parted ways.
I drove back to Cotter for some food (the second of three consecutive barbecue dinners). Cold, damp and tired, I contemplated my plans for the evening. Just then, the owner of the restaurant, making rounds to her customers, came over and asked how I was doing. We discussed my trip and situation and she recommended the Cotter Trout Lodge. She called it "The Fisherman's Paradise." I thought to myself, "Could I steal a few more hours of angling from my trip?" Oxford, MS was a 5 hour, 400 mile drive, so I could leave town by noon and arrive at Ole Miss University for happy hour. How could I pass up a second day of fishing with a plan so simple? Driving to the motel, I finalized my schedule "In the water by 7:00AM, out by 11:00AM and on the road by noon." I stopped at the Cotter Trout Lodge and as Carolynn, the proprietor, handed over my room key, a whittled trout, she said, "This is the first fish you will catch in Cotter, may this not be your last." Later that evening, I heard a band playing at the restaurant next door and walked in during the opening notes of John Prine's Paradise, a favorite song of mine. At that moment I was relaxed. This was paradise and Mr. Peabody's coal train could not haul it away.
The next morning came quick. The air was humid but cool as I made it down to the local fly shop to gear up. There, I met John and Kevin sitting out on the porch. John, an eastern Pennsylvania native, walked me through the shop and fitted me for the day. We sat and chatted while he helped unravel the tangled reel from the day before. Sitting outside the shop was Kevin and as he gathered his waders, we swapped stories of our travel and recommended places to visit. As we compared our travels, he became more interested in my story of my journey which landed me this opportunity to write. Enjoying the company of Kevin and John, I lost track of time but finally accessed the White River at 8:00AM sharp. With three hours to catch a trout in the Capitol, I tied on a yellow egg pattern and tested my luck amidst the gray, cool morning.
Out in the water, I felt rejuvenated. The fatigue from the past three days drifted away with the current. The positivity and hospitality of Cotter replaced any ill-thoughts of traveling. As the fish rose to catch their breakfast and three men in a drift boat each reeling in trout waved as they passed by. A perfect way to start the day, and in my moment of Zen, I dropped my first line.