Wet Wading the Clarion River

                                                   Wet Wading the Clarion River

8/23/25 

 It was a warm Saturday morning. I had set up my camper at a campground in the ANF the day before just for a few days. I hadn’t fished for a week and was wanting to get out to the river to cast a line.

 I parked along the roadside and got my wading gear on, assembled my 9’ Compass fly rod and grabbed a few cigars. I figured, being a Saturday, there would be watercraft usage on the river. I was pretty far upriver away from the boat liveries and most easy access launches so I didn’t expect to be interrupted too frequently. 

 When I stepped into the water the water felt cool so I figured there was maybe a mountain spring run off upriver. It wasn’t like it gave me goose bumps but I knew, from the past outings, the water feels like warm bath water in the direct sunlight out in the open.

 I already had a Woolly Bugger attached to my tippet being the first long section of water I’de be fishing would be a section of wavy water that ran clear across the river. The radio stations claimed it might rain with a passing thunder shower but not till later in the evening. Weathermen and presidents are the only people who can be wrong more than 50% of the time and still keep their job.

 Looking up the clouds were slowly moving across the sky. They were bright white and puffy at times. Then looking up again they would turn grayish casting an unpredictable uneasy feeling down upon the river. It was like a mood ring on a women’s finger! You never know what her mood is until you looked at the ring! Above the clouds the sinister blue sky, pale metallic blue, was not too convincing of a beautiful day to be out. Even with the conditions so far I wasn’t to worried or prepared for a thunder shower. I donned my palm cowboy hat and didn’t  bring along any rain gear. Since I was wet wading I would just wade out and up to the truck in case of the first sign of rain. 

 On occasion a somewhat cool breeze would blow upriver towards me. It was if I could smell the moisture in its presence. The water was clear so the rocks and bigger stones stood out beneath like ice cubes in a glass of vodka on the rocks! Other than that the water was just about the shallowest I had ever seen it. This meant I would be able to wade out and reaching at least 3/4 across the river with my casts. The sunshine was already above unveiling the stream side greenery of trees and brush as if trying to brighten up the otherwise uncertain conditions.

 I waded to the riffling wavy water and the head of the water was pretty shallow. I casted out and held the rod tip up so my weighted bugger wouldn’t drag bottom and get snagged up. Usually I use a brown bugger fishing for smallmouth in the river but this morning I chose an olive shade I tie. Reason being I already knew trout inhabit the cooler and more oxygenated water I was starting to fish in. I’ve had more trout liking my olive color than brown thou I’ve caught trout on brown and vice-versa caught smallmouth on olive. 

 Slowly I waded further out and down into the wavy current casting my bugger across and letting it swing down river. I got my first take half way downriver where I casted the bugger on the far side of the wavy water that was calmer and looked deeper. A fish grabbed the bugger as if it drifted right into its mouth. Just enough of a stoppage of the line I saw and a nudge I felt that let me know something grabbed it. I reared back the rod and the battle began. He put up a good fight swimming into the wavy water and undercurrent. I had a feeling it was a smallmouth by the way it swam and jarred the line unlike a trout that darts quickly and tugs more frequently and fiercely. In the thigh high water I was standing in I got the smallmouth near enough to net him.

 

  Well, I stood my ground and decided to cast into the same area to see if there were any more around. It was if I found a small pocket of hungry fish waiting for food to pass by. I’m not sure what a Woolly Bugger is specifically suppose to represent but fish love them. Maybe a sculpin or just a clawless crawdad drifting beneath? I pulled out 3 more smallmouth around the same area. I knotted on a popper and tossed it out but didn’t have a take so I went back to the Olive Woolly Bugger and it was like it was the favorite meal of the day. I caught another before moving on. 

 I made a long cast across stream and watched the line as the bugger swung downriver into the wavy current. There was a lull in the wavy surface and I was anticipating a strike as I figured the bugger would enter. Without a strike I let the bugger swing downriver just below me and started to strip it towards me when I got a hard take. The line straightened as I lifted the rod back for a hook set. The fish darted across creek fast and strong enough I let it take line. I moved my rod upstream and he followed like a dog on a leash into the rushing current. There I moved the rod forcing side pressure on him. He eventually gave in, with the side pressure force, and swam downriver. We had quite a bit of a struggle before I netted a nice healthy rainbow. 

 After that I had two other fish hooked but lost them in the strong undercurrent. Just before the bridge I caught two more small smallmouth. Downstream from the bridge the water was pretty shallow or at least looked that way. I waded out, as I casted, until I was pretty much standing in the center of the river casting towards the far bank but no where near it. I was in thigh high water minding my own business when I heard voices upriver. Low and behold, looking upstream, a group of tubers were headed my way. The first few pardon themselves for disturbing my fishing. The river was open all too enjoy so I told them so as long as they didn’t run into me there wasn’t a problem. We laughed as they kept their distance. The last two were headed pretty much right for me. It looked like a young girl with her father behind her giving her instructions how to avoid me. Splashing her feet and waving her arms she was able to stay a little more than a few yards from me. She said she was sorry and I assured her it wasn’t a problem. After they left, floating downriver, I continued my fishing with more confidence but that didn’t catch anything. I wasn’t sure if the commotion scared the fish and they went into hiding but I couldn’t conjure up a strike. A few kayakers paddled by before I waded to the bank and up to the road and walked back to my truck. 

 It was just past 2:00 and I wasn’t ready to quit just yet. I drank some water, locked the truck and decided to go back and fish the wavy water again. I lit up another cigar and stepped into the river again. 

 It was near the same area I caught the other bass that I got another grab. It was hard and meaningful. He fought below the surface like a trout and it wasn’t easy to get him near me. It was if he wasn’t letting go and swam and fought with hard tugs. I finally got him close enough to net him. The hook had just barely pierced his lip and looked like it would of come out if he would have made a jump for it! 

 I hooked into one more trout in the wavy current and a couple of smallies.  

 It turned out a better catching day than I would of thought. The fish wouldn’t take a popper but they liked my Woolly Bugger. On the way back to the camper I filled up jugs with spring water, off the mountain that ran through a well placed PVC pipe. Back at camp I feasted on smoked cheese, Genoa salami, Greek olive medley, wine and crackers. That’s how to spend a camping weekend!  

 Though I usually boondock, camping in a small Federal campground in the Allegheny National Forest, with electric, is pretty easy! At $15.00 a site, the price was worth it for 3 days. 

~doubletaper