The hot, sticky humidity hit us like a blast furnace when my son John and I stepped out of his air-conditioned car at Berkley Riverfront Park near downtown Kansas City. It was August 5, seven o’clock in the evening, and the cicadas had already reached a fevered pitch with their shrill songs as we walked down the boat ramp.
Catfisherman, Branden Stombaugh, his eight-year-old boy, Eric, and their 20-foot-long Lowe Line Jon boat were waiting for us at the Missouri River's edge.
We were about to embark on a four-hour fishing trip to try and catch a trophy catfish on the muddy waters of the "Mighty Mo." Never having been on the Missouri, I was a little nervous as everyone found a place to sit in the seven-foot-wide boat. A good shove from John propelled us out into the swift current where the smooth running 75-horse Evinrude took over and began pushing us up the river.
Within a few hundred feet, a massive sand dredge came in to view. It was anchored to the bottom of the river and there was no sign of life on board. With the crew off for the weekend, it looked eerily like an ancient ghost ship as we slowly made our way past it.
“Getting bait will be the first order of business,” yelled Branden over the engine noise. “We should be able to find a small feeder creek on the Kansas River where we can throw casting nets for shad.”
As we approached the area, Branden eased back on the throttle to slow the boat down. Young Eric suddenly stood up and scampered over to the console and crouched underneath it. The boy knew from previous trips with his dad that Asian carp dislike the noise the motor makes and would begin jumping over and in the boat at slower speeds.
Right on cue, dozens and dozens of carp, each weighing in excess of 10 pounds, began leaping high into the air like king salmon in a mountain stream. One made the costly mistake of landing on the floor of the boat where he would become catfish bait along with the shad we had netted.
“Let's head back down stream to the Missouri River and fish by one of the wing dikes and see what we can catch,” Branden said as we sped away from the motor-hating carp.
As soon as we were securely anchored, Branden began getting the heavy duty rod and reels ready. I asked him why he fishes this particular river when there are so many lakes and ponds around the metropolitan area.
Branden, 35, said he had grown up in Illinois and loved fishing for catfish on the small rivers in that part of the state.
“When I first moved to Kansas City three years ago," he said, "I drove across one of the Missouri River bridges and said 'Wow! I have to learn how to fish it!' I’d never seen a river that big and figured it had to have huge catfish.”
He cast one of the rods baited with a big chunk of shad towards a scour hole at the end of the wing dike. “The river is quiet and peaceful with very few boats and fisherman to contend with,” he said.
When the last of the poles were baited and set in rod holders on a rack about three feet high across the back of the boat, I sat down and noticed all the cars driving across the Lewis and Clark Viaduct.
“What do you suppose all those motorists think when they look down here and see three men sitting in a boat on a huge river like this,” I wondered out loud.
"They probably think we're nuts," Branden chuckled. He remembers his friends telling him he was border-line crazy for going out on the Missouri – and that he was completely insane once they found out he spends the entire night there and actually sleeps in the boat while anchored.
Other than the current, the river seemed as calm and serene as any lake I had ever been on, so I asked Branden what the biggest danger was.
The look on his face showed that he was dead serious when he said the main danger on the river is yourself.
“You have to pay attention to what you are doing and use plain old common sense," he said. "I actually feel safer on the river in the middle of the night with dense fog than I do on Smithville Lake in the middle of the day. Be careful around wing dikes, barges and bridge pillars and you’ll be fine."
A cool, refreshing breeze found its way down the river just as the sun began sinking over the horizon, leaving behind a stunning, reddish-orange sky.
Suddenly, the clicker on one of the reels started screaming. Line began disappearing into the river at an alarming rate. The pole that just five minutes earlier had been pointing to a beautiful Kansas City skyline was now pointing down at the water.
I was quite surprised that a man 6’1” and 270 pounds could move so quickly when Branden grabbed the rod and reel and began cranking. The seven-foot rod was bent double and looked like it would snap in two any minute as the skilled fisherman fought the angry fish and current. With darkness now beginning to engulf the boat, it would be hard for John to net the trophy catfish. The line danced around in the murky water as Branden brought the monster close to the surface next to the boat. John thrust the net below the water where he thought the fish should be but missed on the first two attempts. The old saying "third time's the charm" came true as he successfully netted the 45-pound flathead catfish and deposited it in to the bottom of the Jon boat.
We wasted no time getting the hook out so a few photos could quickly be taken and the fish released back into the river where it would continue to grow and reproduce. Things were obviously heating up as Branden caught a 20-pound blue cat just 10 minutes later. Unfortunately, I had to be up very early the next morning and had to leave after just two hours of actual fishing.
“You didn’t give it a fair chance,” Branden said. “Meet me here next Saturday night so we can try it again.”
Saturday evening quickly arrived, and I once again found myself in Branden’s spacious boat. This time my daughter-in-law, Shani Castle, came with me. The 27-year-old shot her first deer on the farm where she grew up at eight years of age and now she wanted a crack at a monster cat.
Back in the same spot as the week before, the three of us eased into the comfortable folding chairs to wait for a bite. I watched Eric make a long cast towards the north bank.
“He handles that rod and reel very well for an eight-year-old kid,” I said.
“He should” said Branden. “That boy has been fishing the Missouri with me for three years and recently caught a six pound blue cat. I keep a very close eye on him, and he has certain rules he must follow such as wearing a life jacket at all times and sitting on the floor when the boat is moving."
Since Branden obviously likes to fish for cats, I asked if he also went for bass.
“As soon as someone catches a 100-pound bass I’ll try it out," laughed Branden. “I love the fact that catfish get enormous. I fish to relax from my professional life, which is quite hectic and stressful. A bass fisherman has to constantly think as he fishes. Decisions have to be made such as what type of lure to use or what color. The most taxing part of cat fishing is whether I should change my bait after it's been on the hook for an hour or if I should have another beer."
A long, mournful blast from a distant train whistle caused me to look towards the back of the boat just in time to see Shani’s rod bending towards the water. The 130-pound woman grabbed it in her small hands and held on for dear life.
“Slowly bring the rod tip up and crank the reel as it goes back down,” yelled Branden. “You’ve hooked a very big fish. Take your time and you’ll land this baby!”
The ensuing battle reminded me of an exhausting 12-round prize fight between two evenly matched opponents. A full 15 minutes later, a beautiful 55-pound blue cat found out what the floor of a 20 foot boat looks like. An ecstatic but worn-out Shani couldn’t believe what she had just done.
“I was scared and very excited as I fought the fish,” she said. The catfish was very strong and the thought entered my mind several times that I might not have the strength to keep the fight up. I’ve never done any thing like this in my life. It was exhilarating!”
Over the next hour or so, I caught a small, 15-pound blue cat, and Branden caught a monstrous blue that tipped the scales at 70 pounds. That’s 140 pounds of catfish in just two hours.
I asked Branden why cat fishing was so great on the Missouri.
“They outlawed commercial fishing back in the early 1990s, and that really helped,” he said. “There are miles and miles of water, plenty of structure and more than enough for them to eat.”
Personally, I’ve always fished with trot lines. That’s how my father and grandfather taught me to catch catfish. I will continue to fish that way, but after sampling the peace and tranquility yet excitement and danger the river offers, I will most definitely add rod and reel fishing in the Missouri River to my repertoire.
Like Branden Stombaugh, those adventurous embers are beginning to burn within me.
castle's view
