Vintage Glass on Bass

                                                       Vintage Glass on Bass

                                                                   7/19/25

 

 I wanted to kayak and fish for smallmouth in the river. I decided to put together my 6 weight fiberglass Wonderod. I wasn’t sure how old it is but I’m pretty sure it’ll be in the vintage category. The cork handle is pockmarked from years of use and felt like the cork was dried out but not to the point of crumbling in my hand. The windings are still in good condition though the marking are pretty much worn but I’m still able to see the Wonderod, weight description and length of 8’ 6” on the butt section. When I was putting the two section together I noticed the ferrules weren’t very tight. I got out my duct tape and taped them together. Hey, like a well used vintage piece of equipment., sometimes a little fixer up makes it more useful. I lined the rod with WF6F line being I planned to use surface poppers. I noticed right off how much heavier it is than my graphite 6 weights I’ve been using. I brought a graphite fly rod anyhow in case I started aching from the weight of casting the glass rod. I don’t know how those old guys could fish with these old heavy fly rods all day?

 I launched in a flat section of water and planned paddling up river until I felt I was far enough upriver to fish my way back down to the launch. I got out a little later than I wanted to so the sun was pretty full figured up above shining down on the river, boulders and green trees that lined the water like a big ole’ flood lamp in the sky. The water was pretty much gin clear so I figured the fish should be able to see my poppers for some distance which means I’ll be casting as far as I can with the glass rod. 

 After missing a gulp early I was able to nab one in a back eddy near the bank. He came up as I was stripping the popper towards me. Instead of coming up underneath he grabbed the popper from the side. I whipped the rod back in a hurry and tagged him. He wasn’t all that big but he put up a good fight flexing the glass rod as I got him to me. The popper was stuck to the side of his mouth, like a lip piercing, and could have came out any time bringing him in 

  After that I caught one more nice smallmouth bass but got free when I tried to lip him out of the water.

 I was about 75 yards from my exit point. I was still concentrating casting along the banks most of the time but every once in a while I’d throw out towards the open water. I was dropping my anchor and then casting. When I covered the area well enough I’d pick up the anchor enough to clear bottom and let the kayak drift some before dropping the anchor again.

 There was about a 12” diameter branched tree log that Y’d upon the bottom of the riverbed out from the bank. The log was pretty deep but with the sun shining down like a spot light I was able to see it below. I wasn’t sure how deep the water was between the log and the bank. I know if I cast out towards the bank it was a risky situation if I caught a decent size smallie to get it from going underneath the log. I was anchored and decided to try it anyhow. 

 My first cast was on the other side of the sunken log but not quite near the bank. I gurgled it my way without a strike and was ready for my next cast. I whipped the rod backward and pulled line for my forward cast. I felt every movement of the heavy flexing glass rod while I casted. My popper fell near the bank and I started to gurgle it my way. A fish exploded up out of the water from beneath my popper like Old Faithful from the earth surface. I waited till he took it under, waited a little more and yanked the glass rod backward with authority. (I learned, because of the soft action of a glass rod, I have to really pull the rod back hard to set a hook on a bass). I felt the glass rod bow when the line tightened. The surface water was left in a big swirl as the smallmouth took off downriver apiece away from the log. I held the old cork handle gripped tightly as the smallmouth pulled and tugged the line. I had a good hold on the fly line with lots of tension when the smallie decided to turn upriver heading for the far side of the sunken log. I took in line quickly and lifted the rod as high as I could to keep him from going under the log. He fought just below the surface but evidently the arcing of the glass rod was enough to keep him from going under. Before I was able to get him over the second branch he had enough strength to swim down river some between the log branches. He splashed on the surface and then tried to go deep enough to swim back under the second branch. The glass rod bowed deeper as I struggled to keep it as high as possible. He disappeared beneath and I thought he got under the logs as I couldn’t feel him fighting much anymore. I whipped the rod down stream hoping to guide him that way, out between the open branches. I knew if I tried to bring him towards me he would have a better chance of getting stuck under one of the logs. I believe that move saved the battle in my favor. The smallie turned down stream and I got him cleared of the logs. I gave him some line hoping he would keep going away from the sunken log but Nooo’. He decided to turn and was determined to get under the logs again like a groundhog ditching back in his hole. I brought in line and kept the fly line tight between my fingers as I lifted the rod high and back. I watched as he cleared the top of the log and I had him coming my way. Having enough line in, to get him to the kayak, I reached for my net. I had him just beside the kayak and he splashed water about like a beavers tail in disgust. I reached down and scooped him up. The popper was embedded in his tongue. After a picture it didn’t take any time at all to unhook the popper from his mouth with my hemostats. He swam away in a hurry like a scared young kid leaving a spooky carnival haunted house!  

  About 50 yards from my exit I happen to cast out into the open water with the popper. As I was stripping it in, across the surface, a smallie rose and attacked it like a feral cat after a field mouse. It actually missed the popper. I let it sit on the surface and then went to strip it towards me when the fish rose again with determination to get it this time. In the splashing commotion I reared back the rod and the line tightened. Another good battle and I was able to lip him from the side of the kayak. 

 At the launch area I took my time emptying my kayak before dragging it up the path to the parking lot. The afternoon sun was throwing down heat like a blast furnace in a steel mill. My button down shirt was soaked with sweat and my palm leaf hat felt like it was a matted permanent fixture on my head. I couldn’t wait to get in the truck and turn on the A/C. 

 Well, what a way to end my fishing with the vintage rod than to smoke an RP 1990 Vintage cigar on the drive home! 

~doubletaper

Smallmouth on the Rise

     Smallmouth on the Rise

7/02/25 

 

 A few days ago, when float tubing and fishing the Clarion River, a storm came in and forced me off the water. As I was floating downstream, in my float tube to beat the storm, I missed some great opportunities to fish probable smallmouth areas. I was determined to return to fish those areas I missed. This time I took my kayak with an anchor to stop me from drifting downstream without covering those areas thoroughly. Wednesday they were calling for sunshine and zero chance of rain. I was as excited as a young man waiting to pick up a new sports car as soon as I could find a ride to get there.

 Early morning I got all my fishing gear in the kayak, making sure I had an anchor, and loaded it in the pick up bed. I drove down river and left my bicycle at a guys house that I know so I could pedal back to the truck when I’m done fishing. After dropping the bike off I drove back up to the boat launch. I assembled my 6 weight Compass fly rod and launched the kayak. It was going to be a 2 1/2 fishing adventure. I was more interested in the areas I missed because of the storm the other day so I wasn’t going to cover the areas for too long that I had already fished the other day.

 The morning started out bright. The sun was up behind me and there was little wind to speak of. Green leaf trees lined the river on both sides along the journey with occasional boulders and debris along the banks.there wasn’t a person in sight as I started out. The water was tinted brown but light enough I was able to see bottom in the shallowest parts and boulders beneath in the deeper sections.

 The first mile or so I was doing well when a smallie grabbed my popper. It wasn’t like I found them hiding every time I casted out but when they came up I usually hooked them. They weren’t the biggest but they were fighters.

 

  I finally made it to a section of water I missed the other day. The sun was high above and was beating down like a 300 watt sun lamp. There wasn’t much of a breeze at times so for the most part I felt like I was in a sauna. I anchored myself in the shade near high tree branches that over hung the river. The water I was to cast in was like a bay off the main body of water. It was deep and the lazy surface current slowly swirled within the pool. I was able to see figures of big boulders below though the water was tinted a light cardboard brown color. 

 I made my betting cast into the pool near the outcropping of boulders along the closest bank. Within seconds, after the popper hit the surface water, I gave a sharp tug of my fly line and a bass surfaced and gulped at my gurgling popper. I moved the rod tip down towards the water and then quickly pulled up and yanked the rod back. The line tightened and the rod arced towards the take. The fish went deep and swam to the far side of the pool taking line off the spool. I kept the rod up with my right hand and tensioned my fingers on the fly line with my left. Out near the far side boulders he surfaced. He was half out of the water shaking his head furiously, trying to throw the hook, splashing water in all directions. After his pandemonium uproar he went under and swam his way near the far bank, to my left, before returning to the center of the pool. When he gave me a chance I’d reel in line not wanting fly line to gather in the kayak. After I shortened the distance between us he tried to tug his way outwards again but I kept tension on the line not letting him bully his way further from me. I could feel the 9 foot fly rod bow into the mid section and maybe into the butt section at time as I fought the fish towards me. Close enough I grabbed my net and lifted the rod. He surfaced enough to splash about trying to swim deep but I was able to keep the rod up with one hand and scooped him in the net with the other. Now that’s what I was after. A nice fat smallie laid in my net. After lipping him and a picture I released him into the water. 

 Well, after that it was if I rang the lunch bell. I had smallies attacking my popper all around the lazy pool of water. Some I was able to hook up with and some I missed.  

 After I couldn’t get anymore risers I lit a cigar and drifted down to the next pool of water off the main body.  

 My first cast was almost identical like my first cast in the previous pool. I laid the popper just out from a boulder that angled down underneath the surface water. The second the popper hit the water I saw a figure of a fish dart beneath it towards the bank. He swam by it as if he heard the surface splashing but didn’t get an eyeball on it yet. I stripped the popper towards me a couple of times making enough commotion to signal a hungry predator. All of a sudden a smallie porpoised across the water surface and gulped at my popper. I saw my popper fall to the surface as he splashed back into the water. Upon seeing he missed my popper I just let it lay there for a second and then swam it towards me as if it was sneaking away. This time the smallie wasn’t going to miss. He exploded out of the water straight up through the surface for a second try. My popper disappeared as his momentum took him completely out of the water. I yanked the rod up behind my left shoulder with authority. Upon his reentry the line tightened and I had another heavy weight tugging and pulling line off the spool. We fought in a give and take battle. He was too heavy to just reel him in with ease. He flexed the fly rod and line like a roped wild horse on the open range. It was if he went through this before. Instead of just trying to swim as far away as possible he stayed, practically, in one place shaking and tugging at the line trying to unhook himself. Well, that didn’t work! I let him tire himself out as I kept the line tight and rod arced towards his underwater antics. When he was tired of tugging he started to try and swim away but the pressure of the arced rod and tension on the fly line I pinched between my fingers was too much. I reeled in enough line, with him in tow, until I had only a few inches of fly line out from the tip top. I had my net ready when I lifted the fly rod and he flopped inside like a basket ball nicking the rim before falling in the net. The orange popper was well embedded in his mouth so there wasn’t much of a chance he was getting away.  

  I stuck around casting into the slow pool of water for sometime. I fooled a couple of smaller smallies and missed one that actually came up twice for my popper. I wasn’t sure if he was the same one but I had a hunch he was hungry and if I teased him enough he’d rise again. 

 I casted out far as I could to the other side of the pool and gurgled the popper towards me and stopped it to where I missed him. When he did try for it before I hadn’t nicked him with trying to hook him so I thought maybe after inhaling the popper he thought it just got away.. After gurgling it I let it set on the surface for an easy take by any smallmouth that followed the gurgles. I twitched the popper just enough to tease and for a little commotion on the surface. I watched as a mouth rose and the water around the popper swirled as it disappeared. I kind of chuckled as I waited long enough for him to take it under and yanked the rod back. It was if the water began to whirlpool as my rod tip bowed and pointed to the take. He went deep and took off like a thief that just swiped a wallet, from an old drunk, that was standing at the busy bar. I held the line and rod tight and only let him have a little of the line at times. I could tell he was a good heavy fish but didn’t appear to have the forceful energy as the last few I tangled with. Maybe he was the same smallmouth that already rose hurriedly at my popper previously and was now plum tired out? I got him in without much of a fight and was surprised how big he was. It was a good thing he didn’t fight very long before I had him under arrest. The popper was just hanging on by the skin outside his jaw. 

 I played around a bit longer casting the popper out in the pool of water without a take. Maybe all the commotion scared off other fish? There was wavy rapids coming up so I put my fly rod in the holder and steered my way through the rough water. After the water calmed down I let the anchor drag on the bottom and casted towards the boulders, rocks and debris along the bank. I picked up a few more nice smallies on the orange popper  

 By then I was near my exit point . The sun was bearing down behind me and it felt like a dragon breathing down my neck. I toted the kayak through the narrow path to the road and parked it on the lawn near my bicycle. From there I pedaled my bike to my truck. I couldn’t wait to have a cold mug of beer after being out all day in the humid heat! 

~doubletaper

Two of a Kind

Two of a Kind

6/30/25 

 The reason I camp is to go hunting or fishing and have someplace in the proximity to come back to. This is why I bought a camper in the first place. If I just wanted to camp I’d sit in my backyard by the fire pit, drink beer and smoke cigars.

 Being the weatherman said there were possible scattered thunderstorms around 3 I decided to get out early on the river. It started as a gray overcast morning but the sun was filtering through the cloud cover brightening up the morning sky. With that brought the humidity up so I couldn’t wait to get myself in the water. I knew where I wanted to float so I got my gear put in my float tube and drove down River Road. I left my bike at a house along the river that I know the owner and drove back upriver to where I put in. I assembled my Winston 6 weight fly rod, got my flippers on and put the float tube in the water. I was ready for some smallmouth fishing teasing them with my home made surface poppers.

 Orange appeared to be the choice color the past few days so I clipped one on my Fas-Snap. I’m not sure if the smallmouth are really that picky with surface commotion when they’re hungry but the orange poppers appeared to encourage more strikes. 

 I was just feeling my way along the bank casting down river and stripping the popper towards me. The river was on the high side with pretty good current. Being the water was on the high side I knew I’d be swept down river quickly in the float tube so I figured I’d just float near the banks where I can reach bottom here and there and ground myself now and then. 

 I have found that when the water is on the higher side I’ve caught more smallmouth out in the open water but there’s always a few sticking around near the banks. Knowing this I’d cast out in the more open water when I was able to if I had enough back casting room from the bank side brush and tree limbs. 

 On one occasion I casted as far as I was able out into the open water. The current was still kind of lazy not far out from me. As my orange popper drifted with the surface current I’d strip it now and then, gurgling it, trying to make enough surface commotion to entice a riverbed hugging smallmouth. Well, he came up and swiped at my orange popper like he was in contention for a jump ball! I waited a second or two after my popper disappeared from the surface and yanked the rod up and back for the hook set. The rod bowed towards the take and tight lined like a guitar string. He took off out in the deeper water as line peeled off the spinning spool and shot up through the eyes. I thought I had a good foothold but the force of the escaping smallmouth tugged me off the  riverbed stones my flippers were trying to hold on too. I started to use my flippers to find a boulder I could stop myself as the smallie continued swimming with force out in the undercurrent pulling me along with him.. I found a boulder beneath to steady myself and now was more comfortable to engage in the battle for dominance! I tightened my grip on the fly line without giving him anymore line. The rod bowed deeper and forced him to swim across stream downriver from me. I had 8lb tapered leader so I wasn’t too worried that he’d snap my line as long as I played him out. We had a good battle going on with him being able to dart away from me every once in a while as I got him closer. I was almost waiting for the popper to come out but the force and the way he was fighting I figured I had a good hook set so I kept the pressure on like a full court press seeing if he could deal with it. He eventually had no options and I started to bring him in handedly. Near the float tube I lipped him and found he engulfed the popper into his mouth cavity. He must have been pretty hungry and didn’t want his morning meal opportunity to get away. I didn’t have any trouble retrieving my popper. His big open mouth gave me the opportunity to find the hook and extract it with my hemostats. I had my first smallie hooked by 10:00am.

   

 I continued on floating near the banks in the shallower water trying to keep a foot hold on the bottom stones and rocks to slow me down. I’d cast out towards the open water now and then but mostly concentrated along the bank sides where big boulders jutted out from the banks making deeper pools of water.

 I get a kick when a bigger smallmouth takes the popper inconspicuously like a trout taking a helpless grasshopper off the surface knowing it can’t fly away. The water along the bank wasn’t all that deep so when the popper landed I’d give it a good gurgle and then just swim it my way. I was stripping my popper in slowly and letting it drift back with the current now and then and not causing too much surface commotion. I watched as a mouth rose to my popper and nonchalantly inhaled the popper like it was an everyday dying big surface bug. I waited long enough for him to close his mouth and yanked the rod up and back. I felt the rod bow and saw the surface water spiral where the popper once been. The bass took off towards the open water followed by my tight line cutting the water surface. He went downriver in a hurry but my 6 weight was holding him back after a few yards of him trying to escape. I could tell that he wasn’t as big as my last smallie but he had a lot of fight. After getting him near I reached over the float tube to lip him but in his furious attempt to get loose he splashed the surface and got himself free. Oh well, that happens.

 I lit another stogie and continued on my way. I caught a couple small smallies that weren’t worth a picture. I also missed a few.  

 Down river a ways, I made a sidearm cast under pine boughs where it was shady. A lot of times I find the bass hold in the shade along the banks when the sun is up and its rays are shining down upon the river. I straightened out the arc in the line and started to strip it, gurgling, my way. A smallmouth erupted out of the surface water and inhaled my popper. I waited long enough, after he went under, and yanked the rod up and back for a good hook set. The 9 foot rod bowed deep with a tight line straight towards the disturbed water surface. All of a sudden the smallmouth took off towards the open water. The leader cut through the surface so fast I swear I heard the tight line sounding like a straining guy wire attached to a radio tower swaying in a wind storm. I tightened my grip on the cork handle as line sped through the rod eyes. He got into the main body of the current and was swimming downriver, tugging, like a lost wading boot bumping the riverbed as it tumbled downriver. I tensioned my fingers on the fly line trying to slow him down. After putting quite a distance between us he finally turned heading straight down from me. I still wasn’t able to bring in line but at least I got him from taking line out. All of a sudden he leaped up out of the water and into the air shaking his head and body trying to release the popper from his mouth. He dropped into the surface splashing water in all directions. He gave another run out towards the open water with force. I had my wrist locked and my forearm tightened trying to hold him from going any further. I took a chance that my 8lb tapered leader was strong enough, along with my knots, that weren’t going to fail. Slowly I started reeling line in during the battle. He kept on tugging the line as I was binging him near the float tube. Near me I lifted the rod high and he splashed the surface trying to get away from the tube. A couple of attempts and I was able to lip him in his wide open mouth. What a nice smallie. It was if he was dressed in some camo colors that hid him as a predator ready to ambush his next meal. 

 It wasn’t long after that it started to rain. I didn’t mind getting wet but when I heard thunder in the distance it was time to move onward. It’s not easy picking up speed in a float tube even with flippers on. As I continued floating down river I looked along the banks at all the good looking areas smallies would be hanging out. It was like driving slowly down a street looking at all the souvenir shops already closed because of a power outage. With the dark clouds behind me I wasn’t going to chance fishing and getting caught in a down pouring thunder storm. I got to where I intended to disembark before the heavy storm. 

 I was planning on returning soon to cover the areas I missed!

 Back at the camper what better way to wait out the storm than enjoying a self made charcuterie platter with a glass of white wine? 

~doubletaper