A trip down to the Bogue Chitto River will make you forget all about the heaviness of the Katrina recovery.
Like most everybody else in Southeast Louisiana after Hurricane Katrina, my family and I spent our days assessing damage, clearing downed trees and just generally looking after other folks. Normal seemed such a long way away. It still does. My brother and I are both employed as teachers by the St. Tammany Parish School Board, and our extended days out of school gave us ample time to get done those things that needed doing.
It wasn’t long, however, before we started thinking about fishing. I had just relocated to Southeast Louisiana two weeks before the storm, and was eagerly looking forward to getting reacquainted with the Lower Pearl River, Lake Borgne and the Rigolets.
In fact, my nephew Karlton and I had planned a trip to fish the rigs in Lake Borgne Labor Day weekend. We were eagerly anticipating catching a few specks.
“What are we going to do now?” I asked my brother. “I guess we could take a day or two and go to Alexandria to fish the rock jetties in the Red River. They ought to be biting enough up there to keep us all happy.”
“No need to drive to Alexandria to fish the Red when the Bogue Chitto runs right behind your house,” he replied. “It may be a little too early, but we should be able to catch a few.”
I hadn’t thought about the Bogue Chitto. In fact, I hadn’t thought much about the Bogue Chitto for the 19 years I had been living away from my childhood home near Enon in Washington Parish.
As soon as I heard those two words, though — “Bogue” and “Chitto” — I was taken back to lazy summer days floating down the river in a big, black tube, and furious fall days hooking up with the energetic Kentucky bass that pulled bigger than they really were.
“Worth a shot,” I said. “The water’s coming down so maybe we can force the issue.”
The Bogue Chitto River is a narrow, fast-moving Florida Parish stream of the same mold as the Amite, Tickfaw and the Tangipahoa. These rivers are characterized by their shallow beds, winding turns, shifting sandbars and fallen timber. In fact, they could easily be mistaken for Arkansas trout streams complete with riffles, runs and pools.
The Bogue Chitto River begins at the confluence of several smaller streams near Brookhaven, Miss. The east and west Bogue Chitto rivers merge just below Brookhaven to form the main river. The main river flows near McComb, Miss., then turns toward the southeast where it eventually runs into Louisiana.
Its trek through Louisiana sends it through Franklinton, past Enon and south of Sun, where it flows into the West Pearl River Canal.
Bogue Chitto supposedly comes from a Choctaw Indian term meaning “big creek.” While not very wide at any point, its approximately 100-mile length does indeed make it a big creek.
The Bogue Chitto River has become extremely popular recently with the canoe and tubing crowd. Therefore, if you hit the river during a summer weekend, you can expect to have to weave your casts in and around the tubers in the crowded sections from Enon to Isabel. However, if you make a trip during the middle of the week, or better yet, during the cooler months, you’ll have the river all to yourself.
Accessing the river is relatively easy from McComb to Sun. The Alford Bridge about five miles north of McComb and a couple of miles east of US 51 is a popular put-in spot. The Bogue Chitto Water Park off highway 98 just east of McComb is also heavily used.
Franklinton has two boat ramps available for public use. One is at the end of the road just past the Moore and Jenkins building off Highway 16 heading out of town toward Enon, although, at the time of this writing, it was still covered in downed trees. There is also an unimproved, part-concrete, part-dirt ramp about another mile down Highway 16 at the end of Boat Ramp Road just before Riverside Medical Center.
The popular Riverbend Campground (985-839-9728) about two miles south of Enon off Highway 16 offers trailer and tent camping spots. There isn’t a boat ramp, but there is boat access for anglers willing to hand carry a flat boat or canoe a few yards.
There are a few other access spots along the length of the river, many of which are at or near the bridges that cross the river. Anglers can also launch at Lock No. 3 on the Pearl River Canal in Sun, motor to the mouth of the river and then turn and go up the river toward Isabel.
October and November are arguably the best two months for anglers to fish the Bogue Chitto. Once the water starts cooling, the Kentucky bass get feisty and begin feeding heavily on perch, minnows and crawfish. The fall bite begins about the middle of September and runs through November.
Our post-Katrina outing began about five miles south of Franklinton at a private access point. Once word got out that we were hitting the river, we had to add another boat to accompany all the other interested parties.
We wound up with my brother, Randall Ginn, who is an assistant basketball coach at Slidell High School, his head coach, Rick Spring, Randall’s middle son, Karlton, and his friend Dominic Pizzatolo.
We dropped my truck off at Riverbend Campground and headed to our put-in spot. The questions began as soon as the rest of the crew saw the sock wrapped around my new Pflueger President baitcasting reel. You’ve got to understand that my rods and reels are used to the plush comfort of a cavernous, carpeted Champion bass boat rod locker. I wasn’t too sure how they’d react to getting beat up bouncing around in an aluminum boat; therefore, the sock had to go on.
Spring couldn’t resist as he threw his dime-store special baitcasting combo into the boat.
“Randall, I’m trying to figure out why your brother has a sock on his reel,” he said, “and why he didn’t give me the other one for my reel.”
“He’s a prima donna,” Randall shot back. “I’m sure he’s got some story about how it cost $800.”
Before any of the Bogue Chitto Crew could load the boats, Karlton was already foreshadowing what the day had in store for us. His first cast to the swirling water underneath an overhanging bush yielded a small Kentucky bass whose eyes were larger than its mouth.
The rest of us loaded the boats and tried to sneak off while Karlton fumbled with the bass that was desperately trying to repay the favor by sending a treble hook through his thumb. We didn’t get far, however, as Randall reminded us that this was Karlton’s birthday trip, and he had a new rod and reel he was itching to try out.
Randall and I somehow managed to get a boat to ourselves, while Spring was relegated to paddling duty for the two boys. A few hundred yards down the river — and a couple lures to the back of the head later — Spring was wishing out loud that he could change boats.
I began chunking a chartreuse/black shallow-diving Norman crankbait to the treetops that were breaking up the current near the riverbank. I just knew that the aggressive Kentuckies couldn’t resist it. I figured that they would be in an early fall pattern and hiding behind the current breaks created by the fallen timber. I was wrong.
Randall had told me I was a little too early with the crankbait, and he immediately began proving it by reeling in bass after bass that were attacking his chartreuse/white Humdinger spinnerbait.
Hardheaded as I am, I continued to toss my little crankbait, even eventually picking up a couple of small fish that must have been as thickheaded as their pursuer. It didn’t take long, however, and Randall had convinced me to cut off the crankbait and tie on a Humdinger.
Our boat began to haul in bass after bass. We started keeping count, but it soon became too complicated as we lost track of how many we were keeping and how many we were tossing back. We knew it was going to be a special day, so we decided to concentrate on catching bass and not counting them.
The others had caught a little swifter current and were pulling way ahead of us. We saw them sculling up against the bank, and soon heard Karlton yelling for me to get the camera. He had been throwing a spinnerbait too, and he had his first fish of the day — a nice 2-pound Kentucky that couldn’t resist the flashing blades of his Humdinger.
Things soon took a decided downturn, though, when Karlton somehow got an impossible backlash in his new baitcaster. Thirty minutes of no fish, and a dad growing distraught from having to bite so many loops of knotted fishing line, didn’t phase Spring.
He continued to cast his little Mepps spinner over a shallow riffle and proceeded to catch a smorgasbord of what the Bogue Chitto has to offer — bass, yellow belly perch, red belly perch and goggleye.
We continued our trip, and I traded off with Randall to paddle a while so he could fish unencumbered. He made a little roll cast that sent his spinnerbait sliding underneath a tree trunk that was partially blocking the flow. His precision was rewarded when a huge fish smashed his bait.
The 3-pound largemouth began desperately trying to free itself. Randall began hollering to anybody within earshot: “Oh my gosh… oh my gosh… this is the biggest bass I’ve ever caught on this river… oh my gosh… don’t get off.”
He shortlined the fish and brought it next to the side of the boat. He pulled his rod back, not caring where the reel wound up, and kept hand-over-fisting it until he reached the bass. He slid his thumb into its mouth and the battle was over. It didn’t top the 4-pound mark of his largest Bogue Chitto bass, but it did officially come in at second place.
We wound up catching over 50 bass that day. The stresses of the hurricane cleanup were carried away with the flowing water, and, at least for a little while, we were able to remember what normal meant.
Fishing the Bogue Chitto during the fall isn’t a complicated endeavor. The key is to think simple, and to think small.
During the early part of fall, bass like to get behind the stumps and logs out in the middle of the river. All you’ve got to do is float down the middle and cast small spinnerbaits and crankbaits to the upcurrent side of the obstruction and reel them downstream as close to the cover as you can get. Bass that are hiding behind the cover will dart out and grab your lure before it gets away.
As fall moves on, bass can often be found in swift water flowing over downed timber around the edges of the river.
This is the situation we encountered on our trip. The bass were relating to the swiftest water we could find moving through timber right next to the bank. This is spinnerbait time because a blade isn’t as likely to get hung on the wood cover. Make quartering casts toward the bank and retrieve your lure with the current.
In late October and early November, bass will gang up around the many clay bluff banks that line the outside bends of the river. Shallow-diving crankbaits like the 200 Bandit are most productive this time of year. Crawfish colors are excellent producers, and the Mistake Bandit is a closely guarded secret by Bogue Chitto regulars.
Position your boat next to the downstream side of a bluff, and make upstream casts parallel to the bluff. Reel your crankbait so that it kicks up a little dirt off the bottom every now and then. This is when it can get really hard to keep up with how many bass you catch in one trip, as this is the most productive time to fish the Bogue Chitto. Hundred-bass days aren’t out of the question.
The Bogue Chitto River isn’t very big, and it isn’t very fancy. In fact, if you buy yourself a cheap river rod and reel, you won’t even need to visit your sock drawer before you head out the door. The bass aren’t very big, but they sure are mean. And they make up in quantity what they lack in quality.
Try it out for yourself this month, and you just may find out what the Bogue Chitto Crew already know — there isn’t a better place to get back to normal.
