The water on Lake Ouachita was calm on that September morning, so my son Matt, my friend Bobby Graves and I had no difficulty seeing big schools of shad churning the surface in several locations. One fountain of baitfish gushed topside 50 yards to the starboard. The school of fish exploded in every direction like silvery shrapnel.
Something swirled beneath the baitfish, something large. Then more shad broke the surface to our left, and another school behind us. More swirls, more shad, and more and more.
The water now boiled, churning like a witches’ cauldron as thousands of baitfish fled predators unseen beneath the surface. Half an acre of water seemed to take on a life of its own.
Matt launched a big topwater plug. When it splashed down, he gave it a twitch and the water exploded. He set the hook with an upward flip of his rod, and the first battle of the day began.
I launched my own attack, casting a bucktail jig toward the frothy water. It, too, was attacked as soon as it made contact. And from the bend in my 7-foot rod, I knew my opponent was sizeable—or so it seemed.
Bobby had a fish on, too, and landed it before we could bring ours to the boat. He released the 12-pounder and quickly cast again. Once more, there was a powerful, almost instantaneous strike, and he was battling another bruiser.
Matt soon had his fish near enough to net. Bobby put his rod down, scooped up the thrashing striper, then removed Matt’s lure and released the fish. “Fire again!” he said. Matt did, and this time, we all saw the fish before it hit. A large dark fin sliced the water, running on a collision course with his lure. He twitched the bait and held on tightly as the fish smashed the bait.
I think my son was a bit startled at the unbridled energy of his quarry. The fish ran in broad arcs, peeling line against the drag. But soon it weakened, and he brought its 16-pound bulk over the transom. I landed mine soon after, a mere 8-pounder.
Over the next hour, we caught and released eight more striped bass apiece, all between 10 and 18 pounds. For Matt and I, this was the first taste of fall striper fishing in Arkansas, and we were left breathless in the wake of the frenzied battle. Rarely have I enjoyed fishing that was more fun.
Autumn is a great season to target Natural State striped bass, even for anglers who rarely fish for these powerful linesides. As summer’s heat wanes, water temperatures begin cooling, and as surface layers reach more comfortable levels, gizzard and threadfin shad (the main food of striped bass throughout Arkansas) leave their deep, cold-water haunts and make brief forays to the surface. Stripers follow.
As our experience shows, Lake Ouachita is one fine striper fishing hole. Some proclaim it the state’s best striper lake, and with good reason. This 40,000-acre Corps of Engineers impoundment has produced at least three state records up to 48 pounds. Twenty-pounders are common, and 30- to 50-pound fish are always a possibility.
Deep and crystal-clear, with plenty of baitfish, Ouachita is ideal for big stripers. One popular method for catching them, especially during midday, is fishing live gizzard shad around river channels and humps where stripers congregate the fill their bellies on baitfish.
A good area is the old Ouachita River channel from near the dam to where it is joined by the Little Blakely and Big Blakely creek channels. Pinpoint the shad schools on sonar, look for big boomerangs (stripers) around them, drop a bait down and hang on.
For information on Lake Ouachita, visit lakeouachita.org. If you want a guide for your striper outing, I highly recommend David Cochran. Contact him by visiting davidcochranfishing.com.
Want to learn more about where to fish in the Natural State? Check out this book by Keith Sutton.
