~StreamSide Tales~: Float Tube and River Smallmouth

Float Tube and River Smallmouth

6/30/2020

Gurgle, gurgle and rest. Gurgle, gurgle and… a fish inhales the popper off the surface with an audible gulp and detectable splash.

The river was dirty from the heavy rain over the later part of the week. Saturday I set up the camper along the river. On Monday I took the kayak largemouth swamp fishing. let’s just say it was an exercise session. 2 miles walking the kayak in, about 4 hours fishing without a bass to the boat and a 2 mile walk out. The only extras were seeing deer during the morning walk in and a big snapping turtle on the lane walking a little slower than I was pushing the kayak on the way out.

I went to bed early Monday night and was ready and willing to float tube the river for smallies Tuesday morning after breakfast.

I set the float tube in the water equipped with all I needed for a 2 mile fishing expedition. 2 miles doesn’t sound very far but while fishing it takes a bit longer then just floating for relaxation. I lined my Boron rod and attached a good size frog popper to the end of the 8lb tippet. I placed a few more poppers at the ready on my wool fly patch attached to the float to for easy access.

After getting my flippers on I dipped into the water and sat upon the webbed seat. The air was chillier than the late June water temperature. The river had cleared up nicely with just a touch of tea stain. A gurgling popper should bring up the bass from their bank side hide outs. Well, the first hour and a half appeared that it was going to be another exercising day. Of all the casts I made thus far accounted for 1 small smallie only when I switched to a brown Woolly Bugger. Nothing was coming up for my poppers. It was about 9:30 when I decided to light up my first cigar for the enjoyment factor and wishful float down the river hoping the bass would wake up.

The sun pretty much crested the mountain tops leaving a little shade along the banks where the tree limbs overhung their abundant green leaves. The water was mostly a sheet of glass in the morning except upon the shallow riffles or surface boulders and log hazards that appeared to be placed just far apart to provide cover throughout the river banks. It had turned a bit breezy but still calm enough not to hamper my long casts with the poppers. I started to fish the sunny side of the river only because nothing was doing along the shady side. I looked forward and saw a nice cove of slow moving water ahead to my right. I just had a feeling that if one was going to take my popper this was it.

The surface was mostly shaded with spots of sunshine glare that found its way through the leafy overhanging branches of the bank side trees. I was drifting slow anticipating the likely lie ahead but was still casting toward to bank leading up to the cove. I got a good cast that plopped the popper just before an overhanging bush. After a couple of gurgling tugs I watched the popper float slowly downriver along the bank. I was glancing ahead to where I would make my first cast in the cove when I heard a faint gulp and a splash in the corner of my eye. I jerked back the rod and the line tightened with a fighting smallie. I was still floating slowly near the cove but didn’t want to ruin my chances by disturbing the water with a fighting smallie. I consciously finned my way upriver as much as possible until I felt a good foot hold on a rock. I got the smallie in safely to the float tube apron. Not a big smallmouth but it raised my hopes and excitement level a few points. I let the smallie go and decided not to cast until I was within range of the cove.

I could see underwater that it was becoming shallower. I saw just enough of a protruding boulder, below the surface, that I could anchor my feet against and stop my momentum. I was now stationary and within plenty of reach of most of the cove.

Each of my casts were further out into the cove as the previous one. Each drift and gurgle I anticipate a take but it doesn’t happen. I bring the popper to hand and look at it to make sure the wound feathers aren’t unwound. I make sure the tail feathers aren’t twisted around the hook bend. The silicone legs are flexing and the fast-snap is perfectly snapped on the hook eye that protrudes from the light green foam body. It’s almost as if I look at it and ask why it can’t make a smallie “take you”? I start another cast in the same area hoping one smallmouth came in to feed or finally gets annoyed enough to punish this creature that’s disturbing his peace.

Gurgle, gurgle and rest. Gurgle, gurgle and… a fish inhales the popper off the surface with an audible gulp and a detectable splash. I wait a second or two and yank back on the full well cork handle. I watch and in an instant the line raises off the water, straightens and tightens. The rod tip arcs and there is surface disturbance swirling where my popper had once been. I hold tight on the grip, my left fingers feeling the force and pressure in the line between them. “Not bad” I say to myself as I hold the rod steady. It swims towards the bank and I leave some line out. I feel the fish hesitates in quick spurts like a running back jogging for position waiting for a hole in the line to speed forward. He makes a decision and heads upriver along the bank. I reel in line as he keeps his distance. Just in time I see a log up against the bank with a few branches poking up through the water surface. I lift the rod above my head and hold the line tight trying to keep him from tangling up in the debris. He continues to swim up past the log jerking the line trying to get nearer to the log. I keep my hold not giving any line or letting the rod tip drop. He finally turns towards me and bolts back downriver into the cove. I let him take some line to relieve the pressure on the 8lb tippet. He gives me a good last stand in the cove coughing up bubbles and swirling the surface water above him. He gives in and reluctantly comes my way. The popper hangs from his jaw.

From then on the smallmouth kept me on my toes. What I thought was strange that it took till noon before they started to take my offerings. Maybe I just missed their morning meal but am around for lunch!

Most of the strikes were just off from the bank a few yards or so. The bass weren’t really hugging the bank side boulders like usual. One particular smallie I caught was mid river in deeper water. I’m not sure exactly how deep. I was slowly drifting with the current letting my legs dangle below. I turned from the bank and shot a good lengthy line out towards mid river. The popper fell to the surface and I gave it a couple off hard tugs which made the popper gurgle like a frog gasping for air and splashing the surface for fear of drowning. I figured if anything would draw a fish up from the deep that surely should. I didn’t let it rest too long and gave it two more gurgling tugs towards me. A smallmouth rose and grabbed the moving popper like a stadium fan chasing a home run ball continuing over the outfield fence. I reared back the long length of line and it tightened toward the hooked bass. He gave me a good battle. It was if we were jousting side by side moving in the same direction as I was free floating, with him, down the river. I got him to the apron safely