The second day started at Ferguson’s Country Store and Restaurant, just one mile from the Buffalo River. Owner Wayne Thompson fed us homemade cinnamon buns for breakfast. “After 29 years I think we’re close to getting the recipe right,” he said.
Eat breakfast, grab groceries, or buy homemade furniture at Ferguson’s.
We met up with Ron Grinder, a local canoe trip and fishing trip guide of Buffalo River Outfitters (BRO). Owner of BRO, Ben Milburn, supplied sandwiches, snacks, tackle and my kayak. We put in at Baker Ford and begin a six-mile float, starting at the middle section of the Buffalo River.
The Buffalo River is slow and lazy; an easy paddle with plenty of time for casting to every potential fishing hole. The smallmouth seemed to be holding in the deeper pools, but with the water being so clear, they were a little spooky. We were catching them on 1/8oz light green tube jigs, but only after working over an area thoroughly. The weather was sunny and calm with a slight breeze to keep us cool and overcast skies.
These wild smallies were little, but fiesty.
That cloud cover soon turned to rain. Starting off at a drizzle, the rain eventually steadied and stuck around for the five miles of the six-mile float. Bad weather usually means good fishing and the rain definitely helped to stain the water a bit, making the fish more aggressive. We were catching smallmouth, mostly little, but managed to hook a few good sized black bass as well.
A word to the wise: don’t wear jeans on a float trip, especially in the rain. Mine were quickly soaked through and very cold. The wind soon joined the fun and my hands starting closing the bail a little clumsily. Luckily the river cuts through the mountainous region, so we tucked underneath a steep bluff and tried waiting out the rain.
When the rain didn’t cease, we continued fishing and paddling. After another mile we eventually stopped fishing and paddled faster towards the take out point. With water levels being so low, the riffle sections of the river turned to rocky speed bumps, so the going was slow. We only stopped to quickly eat our sandwiches while ducking underneath a tree, though the rain soaked our meals regardless.
Overhanging bluffs make for the perfect rain covers.
Shaking from the cold, soaked to the core and worn out, I reached the end of the float, just past a new bridge which replaced the one our guide’s grandfather built. We pulled our kayaks out at Grinder’s Ferry, which is named after Ron’s named after his father.
Back at the log cabin, I thawed myself with a boiling hot shower and hotter coffee then dried my clothes over the fire. The rain and cold were a worth-while trade for fast action on spunky smallmouths.
Check back tomorrow to read about Ben Duchesney’s trip to Gaston’s White River Resort for trophy rainbow and brown trout.
