Chatterbait Spring Smallmouth 4/26 and 4/27

River was wide, not very deep.
A fast floating thrill ride Indians called Rock Creek.
Went for a float with a bike named Jim.
Caught so many bass,
I named the river after him.
Jim ran brown and Jim ran gray
Jim was green by the end of day.
Well, I cranked 'em deep and I cranked 'em long.
But it's my yellow chatterbait of which I sing my song.
Drug her slow in slow water early.
As the day drew on, 'twas water shallow made 'em surly.
One bass, rock bass, green bass, Spotted bass, Grand Slam.
Chatterbait heating, nothing small came to hand
6 mile covered, arm was really sore.
Now I see today,
The rain has washed it all away.













21 Bass- 19 SMB ( 19.75???", 4-17-17.5", 16", 3-15") 1LMB, 1KY, 4 Rock Bass

Very cool trip. Got out the next day (Saturday) out east by 1PM, was worn out by the bike ride from day before.Thought I'd duplicate based on euphoria with my newly arrived St.Croix Warranty rods. Looked good half hour in, got a 17.5" right away on chatter, lost another as big on crank. Somewhat slow going and lots of poop coating everything down from a small town. Smelled of animal feces. Got some more smallies, but was relieved to reach my take out at 5pm. Yanked the stem out of my bike tire trying to inflate and it went flat. Walked back to the car across two dry farm fields. Saved a lot of time. Hog pooh wafted in the air as I walked back. Yick. I think I won the pooh trifecta of man, cow, and hog, on my boots, burned into my nostrils and brain.


7 SMB- (17.5", 2-16", 15")

 

Format Sloppyness

Uggh, changed the template for this blog recently. Only to find I have formatting problems in almost every old post. 500 something posts. Don't know if I'll go back and make sure everything looks neat. Grrr.

Facebook

Facebook! Your memes make me laugh, cry, and cringe. Your politics make me want to binge *that's drink*. Every day: someone freaks, cat geeks, baby creeps, gay boutiques, the racist meek, artist peeps, gun leech, national critiques, a music leak, sports streaks, work the obliques, visit to the clinique *oh, it burns*. People, can you rise above the reek? A snoop's paradise, a lurker's pursuit, a stalker's found you in your favorite bathing suit. All your actions and habits bare, machines collect you because you're there, compiling facts for Judgement Day. When greedy Capitalists FUCK YOU with your privacy.

No Fish Story

I've beached my kayak, climbed a high bank, then up a large river side hill. I intentionally slip down the side of a near 60 degree hill like some overloaded surfer,  catching a root with my free hand, taking a stick in the ribs. In my other, two long fishing rods rigged for bass fishing dart in and out of tree limbs.

 The thaw is in effect and the top inch and a half of the humus are a slick mud. Traction is in and out, as my foot catches pea gravel mixed in the mud or the odd root. Mostly I slip, loving it. I plan to launch my body to the next hillside tree using the mud to take me there. Attention both on the ground and the large slack eddy  in the water below. The eyes of this hunter search for that perfect spot to deftly creep an offering between the sycamores, ashes, elms, and cottonwoods that lie buried underwater 20' below.

My path is blocked by those damnable green vines, replete with thorns that grab and rip skin. Cut them, or they cut you, tromp them or they'll tromp you down. Not a good idea up here. A long drop to 6-7' of ice cold water. Looks like it will be an army crawl to get under this thicket. I am stuck halfway. The heartless bastards embed in my backpack. Only solution now is to pull Fat Ass through. I get further tangled. Some new wounds later, I'm ready to fish.

The early Spring winds blow hard from the West. It will be hard to fish from this exposed bank. I'll have to get closer. Like flying a kite otherwise. The longer rod will help me get the monofilament line below the surface and out of the stiff breeze. Control with such a light jig is vital. Careful, now. Careful. A shadow cast across clear water can end a hot day's bite before it begins. Cast no shadow and kick no pebble. Down there be monsters, below the broken limbs, discarded 1950's truck frame, fallen trunks, the ebbing and flowing currents all must be accounted for.

Have to be...perfect. Look at the patterns in the water. Observe. 'There.' A darker spot in the water coinciding next to just the right current speed for this time of year. Crosses several lay downs. It'll be a hard land or slide down to meet the pig when it happens.  Knee is going stiff from weight on it. I shift the body 180 to put weight on the other side. An under hand swipe, the lure starts several inches above the water comes to an apex a couple feet above then drops out of sight slightly upstream, thankfully on target. I bow and let the lure sink down, down, and wait. If I'm right, it will be a soft 'thuck' or slight rubber band like tick that gives her away. A smile, always a smile at that.

The enemy is fear. Fear you'll hang your jig on something, lose it, fear this isn't the right spot at all, fear the next spot would be better. Shut the voices out. Don't trust them. Give it a chance. I again stick my jig in a  thicket. Defiant to the difficulty. The more ridiculous things I try, the better the eventual pay off.

A fevered dream brought me here, far out into the Indiana landscape of broken field after blasted field  interrupted by flowing water. One hundred miles from the place I call home. I was the fish. I thought like a fish. I reacted fish-like. Now I'm here rooting around on this muddy hill like Ahab looking for the White Whale. I think about what others are doing and pity them.

And... Nothing.

It's warmed up too much since last week. The cold blooded bass have moved into fast water for feeding just 30' away. I find the bigger fish downstream on a rip rap point heated by the sun. I missed the pigs here by a week or so.

I won't make the same mistake next year. The mud under my feet just told me where and when to fish.

Drive By Pig Smallmouth Bass 4-11-13

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Fishing Buddies: They Just Don't Make Them Like That Anymore...

I've had the pleasure to fish with close to 70+ different smallmouth anglers in the past 6-7 years.

The best people to fish with have the following traits.

Sense of humour about their failures and bad luck as well as good luck. Can take a joke as well as give it.

Like a cat on the riverbank, they don't rush forward spooking all the fish, or catching the first fish and leaving nothing for the trailer.

More competitive with mother nature and the fish than you.

They bring something to the table observation wise, helping discover the pattern during the day.

Skilled. Interested in pursuing more skill.

Prepared for anything, cool under pressure. Ability to adapt and take on all comers, regardless of the conditions.

Humility.

Sense of adventure, but not recklessness.

Sharing- they know what you've shared with them in terms of places to fish stops with them.

A rare quality indeed.

In this day and age, it's rare for a good thing to stay good for long. I've been through some good people as life catches up to them. To those guys, I raise my glass. Shucks.

The opposite end is the the guy you take, that promises to tell no one.  You know the rest of the story, you can hardly drive by without a car parked or pics on an Internet forum. May have taken hundreds of hours to compile, but now you can hardly throw a rock without hitting some twat. Without my finger and big mouth, they're still throwing beetle spins into the kiddie ponds.

If I was getting paid well... OK. Maybe. Maybe.

Then the fishing egos!!! There really needs to be a SIYS article about fishing egos. Maybe that'll come soon.

I don't like these feelings, don't like for something so enjoyable to involve a complicated agenda. Makes me question my public fishing presence, whether there should be one.

Up Shit Creek Again 3/31/13

 

Guest Writer ZP- 

Brenden and I got out for an Easter float today.

Things started out well, with a few early fish out of some wood.

Things started to go slightly south when Brenden tried to horse his yak under a log while dragging the yak around obstructing wood, and his paddle snapped in half. He didn't bat an eye about it though, and kept on trucking, paddling canoe style with a half paddle.

The water felt warm (for this time of year) and the fish seemed pretty active. Caught a few out of feeding positions rather than typical winter spots. Many plucked from wood by dabbling the jig down in from above.

Brenden was getting a little ticked with his paddle struggles, and it came to a head when he hung up in current and then while trying to paddle upstream his line of his second rod tangled with the first, and then both with his anchor rope. He paddled hard, got frustrated and slapped his paddle against the water. Crack. The other end snapped off as well. He chucked the useless handle in frustration and floated downstream powerless.

 

I offered half my paddle, but instead we ended up attaching the front of his yak to the tail of mine and dragging him along. I referred to this setup as the "kayak train". The kayak train was not very fast or maneuverable. At time when we'd hit current the wrong way, he'd whip around past me, which elicited happy "woo-hoo's" from the caboose rider.

 

Since we were pretty slow going with this setup, and had a ways yet to go, we had to cut back on the fishing and mainly just try to make our way out. Still got a few more fish along the way though.

I ended up with 13 (12 SMB, 1 LMB), with an 18" and a 17".

I think Brenden had 18~19 including an 18" (which he pulled from water I had just fished thoroughly.

Fun day! The paddle situation made it memorable. I was laughing my ass off from the bank when he snapped the paddle for the second time. First time I've seen that!

 

 

High Water Smallie Action- 3/30/13

Given a choice of lower clear water or high clear water I'll take the high version every time during cold months. It stacks fish into even more concentrated places than before.

Saturday I got on a medium flow over 1000 CFS. Usually a sign for multiple pigs! Water visibility was probably around 2', air temps would reach 52F.

Brought my kayak just in case, but was too lazy to launch it, instead hoping to a bunch of Winter holes via car, and foot. I really did my first wade of maybe a mile in the middle of all the  short to medium walks. First spot I got one on a chatterbait, tube and hair jig. Each a 15" fish.

Moved up a mile and across corn fields on foot where I got another 5 without a miss to 14" on the hairjig.

Got in the car and cut across woods to a new theoretical spot which produced a handful more on the hairjig, still no misses. Took a long walk on the bedrock with current thrashing my shins. I finally reached high ground and pitched into some rootwads along a shorn steep bank. Rewarded by two more bass to 15". That was all I could find in the high water there, so trotted back to the first spot lost one and caught another 15" bass on the jig. Curious now as that was 5-15" smallmouth and nothing larger. Even with this high water to push them in easy spots?!? Weird.

Hit a gulley pipe and found another 8 bass without a miss. 2 more 15"'s and 2 16"ers. Certainly don't mind catching these. Just couldn't get the big fish today...until.

I hooked a mamouth carp on the fly along the bottom stopping at one last spot. 10 minutes plus to land. I had to wade down from a high bank and hog wrestle the fish at nearly 3' long and I'm guessing 20 lbs or more. There wasn't a good place to get a pic so I let him go. managed a handful more smallies beforehand to finish with

25SMB (6 -15" 2-16-16.5") a 3' carp and a rock bass

Playin' Hooky 3-20-13

Had some chores to finish, took the day off from work. Figured I might try and wet a line later. Looked at the forecast. Nice and cold, 28F w/ winds up to 40 mph, but occasionally sunny too. Lots of layers helped, but damn was it cold!

Took my kayak but started on foot. A quick 15"er and then three more behind bridge piling, when I found the correct casting angle.

Went on with my float. Shelves and cracks are underwater structure that smallmouth love. Fished one pretty hard with wind trying to blow me upstream. Got a couple to 18.25" down from the shelf in the sun. Didn't take a picture of this fish as it was painfully thin and probably on its deathbed- skinny and a suction/piercing wound behind the head. Finally found the sweet spot with a float and fly drift fish. I followed this up with the hair jig along bottom for 5 more and couple pop offs.  I liken this kind of fishing to fishing on the bottom deep in a lake, you have to stay slow and keep rod movements to a minimum or you move the jig too much.

Left and floated the rest of the stretch. Lots had been changed by recent high water. Much of the wood had been removed changing things quite a bit. Couldn't get anyone knocking down deep, then pitched into a shallower boulder hole near the current and hooked a 2' carp that came to hand. Got out and hooked a dink, which I saw strike the fly jig in front of me. Later had a 13" fish follow the jig back and pull away at the last second when he saw me. Just the carp and dink in that whole waste of time. Headed back up to my ledge where I picked 4 more including this fat 18.75"er on float and fly. That fat fish tore ass!



16 SMB (18.75", 18.25", 16.5", 2-15") 1 24" carp.

3/16/13 Winter Smallmouth Bass on the Light Jig

Wade/float



At one point, smallmouth on 9 casts in a row! Dinks were biting too, which was probably half of what I caught.

The 8'6" BPS Microlite Float and Fly rod was problematic on a couple back swings, but can really launch a 1/16th oz jig. An 18" bass puts a nice bend in it.


28 SMB (18.25", 3-15-16")