Smallmouth Stunts

                                                                         Smallmouth Stunts

7/03/26 

 They say fish have a brain the size of a pea. I have friends that say state raised trout, (pellet heads), are dumb. I’m not sure but sometimes I think the smallmouth I catch are pretty dumb also. They will chase and gulp a popper making commotion on the surface no matter what the color is at times. This is why I don’t spend too much time coloring, air painting or making my poppers eye-catching to the human eye. Just different colored poppers, tail feathers, dry hackle behind the foam popper and some rubber legs make enough commotion and must look like dying bait fish or swimming frogs that draw their attention. Every once in a while though I hook into a smallmouth that appears to have some thought of how to get unhooked or get into danger snags to the hooker. Besides them exploding out of the water, with a popper hook in their mouth trying to throw the hook, they have other stunts to get tangled up.

 It was another clear blue sky with little cloud cover to speak of. Greenery lined the banks and the morning sun was still rising over the tree cover on the far bank. The water had a brown tint from previous night rain. I lined my 6 weight, 9’ fly rod and attached a popper to the no-knot snap. I put on my flippers and plopped the float tube in the water for a mile or so float. There was nearly a breeze and the section I was fishing was slow and not much faster, wavy water until way downriver near where I would be getting out. The water was in good depth which not shallow enough where I would be scraping bottom and yet just deep enough in the usual shallow areas where the smallmouth should be in and away from hugging the shaded banks until maybe the sun moves overhead of the river. I situated myself into my float tube and lit a cigar before pushing off.  

  As I was floating down river I was casting towards the middle of the river and towards the banks. My first activity was, after setting the hook on an exploding smallmouth at my popper, was a hefty smallmouth. He actually was pulling my float tube towards the middle of the river while I was flipping my way towards the bank where I could get a foot hold. Once I got a foothold and he wasn’t able to pull me, he exploded out of the water but not getting enough height to get his tail off the surface. His tail splashed water everywhere as his body wavered just above the surface. He dumped back into the water and there we tussled some before getting him to the apron. 

 Downriver, not far, I was drifting out from the bank, casting and down away towards the middle of the river. Almost at the end of the drift I started stripping the popper in intervals. I let the popper drift freely before making another strip when a smallmouth rose and grabbed it with an audible gulp. I waited a second and yanked the rod up for the hook set. The line tightened and the 6 weight bowed towards the expanding wavy circle where the smallmouth took my offering. I was able to get a foothold on the riverbed a ways out from the bank. The smallmouth fought with heavy pulls out towards the middle of the river. I wasn’t letting him have any line so he started to swim just downriver from me. I was bring in line when I noticed my 9 foot leader was pointing down towards a sunken ledge of a boulder. The smallmouth wasn’t swimming to either side of the boulder and it must have found a safe hideout under the boulder ledge. I tried lifting the rod and line high trying to coax him out but he wouldn’t move out. I could still feel his movement through the fly line. I started to tug the line left to right trying to get him to move out but he still wouldn’t cooperate. I was afraid if I kept it up my leader would eventually tear rubbing against the ledge. I slowly started to flipper towards the bank to be at an angle of the ledge. As I neared to him, with my rod towards the bank and high, he finally didn’t have the ledge for hiding behind and swam out downriver. Without any more stunts I was able to get him to the apron.

 As I drifted I was hooking up and missing some of the hungry smallmouth with the popper. Some of them were nice size and some were smaller ones.  

 I was casting towards the bank when the water widened and got shallower across the river. The sun was up and shining down. There were log jams along the bank and half submerged boulders that hugged the bank. I was slowly drifting, touching bottom now and then, casting near the bank and down river from me. I started to strip the popper in and wham, a smallmouth rose and gulped it in. I dropped the rod tip and then yanked it high and another smallmouth tugged at the other end. He started to swim towards the bank so I moved the rod away trying to force him away from the logs. The rod sections bowed and forced him away. I was about 20 yards or so away from the bank but was able to get a foothold at times. The smallmouth was down river towards the bank and we were having a good battle with one another. Then suddenly the tight line stopped moving but I could still feel the fish moving. I started to drift down stream from where my rod tip was pointing. I felt the smallmouth had snagged us up on something. I had to let line out as I was trying to flipper my way upriver to see what we were caught on. When I got to the snag the smallmouth had wrapped the leader around a thin branch stuck to the bottom of the river with a bunch of thin twigs branching out. My line was pretty tangled in the twigs and looked like a thick spider web that intertwined in the twigs. The smallmouth was still hooked and it was if he was looking at me laughing like “now what are you going to do next?” I could see the hook was hooked pretty securely in his mouth as he was just swishing his tail to keep his upright position holding on. Maybe he thought he had me tangled so bad that I would just cut the line and he could swim out of it. Wrong! I took my time untangling the mess while he stayed put. I was breaking the wet flexible twigs and getting my leader untangled. Every once in a while the smallmouth was trying desperately to swim away but he tangled himself good and couldn’t break free until I got most of my leader free. Once I got the line straightened out to him he turned and took off towards the middle of the river. He seemed pretty worn out, from being tangled, and I was able to bring him in pretty quickly. I guess he thought getting himself tangled up I’d give up on him but it wasn’t so. 

 After letting him off the hook I continued floating down river casting poppers. I caught a couple more smaller smallmouth before the fast wavy water that was to fast to not watch where I was going. I was nearing my exit point and guided myself towards the bank. It was another enjoyable float hooking up with some ‘smart’ smallmouth! 

~doubletaper

Popper Fun

                                                                            Popper Fun

7/01/26 

 Recently, in the week or so past, I fished for smallmouth in the Clarion River. I was hoping to get them to rise for my popper selection but they haven’t been cooperative. Wednesday I decided to give them another chance.

 I had my float tube in the water ready to go by 9:30am. It was already in the 70’s and the sun was out and about emitting it’s laser sharp rays in between the light cloud cover. The humidity was high and the only relief from the warm temps was I’d be in the cooler river water in my float tube. I had about a mile stretch of water to tease the river smallmouth into rising for one of my poppers. 

 The section of water I’d be floating was slow moving with boulders along the banks. Being that most of this stretch isn’t easy access from the road I figured the smallies weren’t fished over much. 

 Dancing with the first smallie on a popper within the first hour of floating gave me confidence that the smallies will rise. Watching the popper float upon the water and making short strips for bubbling action, was too much a temptation for some. 

 Most of the smallmouth I caught weren’t the biggest but some were a bundle to hold on to while we were partners. Watching them all of a sudden rise and gulp my popper was as much fun as catching a trout on a dry fly. 

 

 I was dancing with them off now and then but I never knew when or where they would participate. Likely spots I thought one would rise weren’t so. Other times I was just casting out towards the middle of the river and a smallmouth would gulp up the popper with a sudden splash. I’d wait a second or two after it took it under and rear back the rod up with a determined hook set. Most of the time the line would tighten and the 9 foot rod would bow towards the strike and the fight was on. 

I puffed away on a stogie as I slowly drifted.  

  Occasionally I would get a foothold on a big boulder beneath that was reachable and steady myself. I would cover the area, within casting distance, stationary on my foot hold. Many times I would get a smallie to commit into grabbing one of my poppers. It was easier getting them to the apron when I was stationary than drifting without a foothold. 

 I din’t hook all the takers but I was about 90% on my game. Some smaller ones I didn’t take pictures of but the bigger brutes I did. It was obvious that the smallmouth were well fed. They were fat and energetic. The river has lots of crayfish besides bait fish. Many times when I catch a smallmouth it will spit out a small fish or parts of a crayfish. They are like pigs and don’t seem to ever get their bellies filled at times.

 I was getting into shallower water and I was feeling my way with my flippers on the bedrock. Along the rocky bank looked a bit deeper so I concentrated my casts along the bank. The sun was above and lit up the water like a dance hall. A lot of times I find that smallmouth like to sit along shady spots along a rocky bank even in shallow water. 

 I made a cast just out from the rocky bank and watched my popper plop into the water. I stripped the popper across the water in slow intervals making the popper bubble and splash the surface water like a helpless dying bait fish. A smallmouth rose, like the chance to dance to the last song at the ballroom dance! She rose half out of the water where my popper was. She went under and I yanked back the rod with a hefty pull. The slack line zipped off the water and tightened like a banjo string. She went under and swam towards the center of the river as a wake followed her. The river water was shallow all around so it wasn’t hard to see her as she swam from my point of view. She maneuvered here and there as if dancing on the ballroom floor and I was keeping my eye on her. I wasn’t sure what music was playing in her head but she rose to the surface, splashing water now and then, as if wanting the attention! She danced a bit more and I was able to get her to the apron safely. 

 I was within sight of my exit point still feeling my way with my flippers. Every once in a while I would cast out towards the middle of the river when I saw a current flow of riffles from a boulder just under the surface. Usually the water is a little deeper behind. My cast was just beyond the narrow riffles and I gave a sharp pop’ and let the popper drift with the riffling current. Another pop and I started to strip it across the surface, in intervals, as if swimming towards the bank downstream out of danger. I watched as in an instant an oblong figure flashed behind it and gulped at it. I yanked back as quickly as I could. I had a lot of slack line arced on the surface and the way the figure appeared I didn’t have time to think about waiting to set the hook a second or two. I just yanked the rod up towards the bank trying to straighten the arcing line. The line straightened and tightened. The rod bowed towards the surface splash where my popper once had been. The smallmouth disappeared beneath tugging and pulled away towards the middle of the river. I followed him with the rod tip and let him have a little tensioned line I had pinched between my fingers. He gave me a good show as if he was the feature dancer of the ballroom gala. He splashed the surface, jumped out of the water and swung around in his performance. I kind of chuckled as I was bringing line in and after all that performance I was pretty sure my hook set was tight and not going to come loose. Near the float tube I reached down and pinched his bottom lip and brought him to the apron. 

 He wasn’t as fat as the smallmouth I caught upriver in deeper water but he was a nice size smallie with a lot of spunk for dancing!

Just before I made my way to the bank of my exit point I caught one more smallmouth near the bank. I was surprised because the water I was casting in didn’t look any more than shin deep. There must have been a deeper pocket of water he was resting in? 

 Well the dancing was over and it was time to go home.

~doubletaper

The Struggle

                                                                            The Struggle

6/29/26

Being the temperatures have been in the 80’s with high humidity I stay away from fishing for trout in creeks. I mostly turn my fly fishing to river smallmouth and hoping to make them rise to one of my poppers. Recently the smallmouth haven’t been too cooperative coming up for a popper so, knowing they’ll take a Woolly Bugger, I offered them one. 

 

 The river was low enough I was able to wade almost half the river width. I wasn’t able to reach the far side, along the boulders, with my casts but I caught a few river fish anyway. I started fishing the faster water before I got to the slower current down stream. The sun was high but the warmth it brought felt like it was only tree height. The water was bearable, with the recent warm temperatures, but with the many springs and mountain creeks that empty into the river there are cooler waters that trout hang out in. 

 In the faster riffling current I was casting out Woolly Buggers and hooked into a few rascally trout. One being a yellow belly brown trout the looked like a local residence for some years. They put up a good battle and after letting them go they swam away fine.  

 

 

 Down in the tail out of the wavy current I was surprised I didn’t catch a smallmouth in the deeper water. I continued on wading down river. I was mostly casting poppers hoping for a gulping smallie for my poppers but none seemed interested. Maybe over the weekend there were so many watercraft’s, fisher people, and float tubers that the smallmouth were still scared to feed on top or moved to the far side of the river I couldn’t get to? I was biding my time puffing on a cigar and casting poppers without any strikes that I finally decided to attach a Woolly Bugger again. It seems like the smallmouth in the river like brown buggers more than olive buggers more often. The trout on the other hand seem to prefer olive but I’ve caught both, trout and smallies, on both shades..

 I attached one of my brown buggers and was casting it out as far as I could comfortably. As it drifted down stream I felt a grab and hoisted the rod tip up and the line came off the water and tightened. The fish put up a good battle and I was surprised It was a rainbow trout this far down from the cooler waters that was up stream. Heck, maybe he was visiting or was just swimming around away from the faster current? Anyhow, he put up a good battle and even took air like a high jumper  flexing his body over the high bar! I flipped the net over and he swam away without looking stressed. 

 I slowly waded and stopped now and then casting the bugger out across stream. I made a cast directly across stream and watched the bugger plop into the water like an acorn falling into a pond. My fly line laid on the water and slowly arced downstream on the surface. I saw the line pull away without feeling the take. I quickly yanked the rod high, getting the arced fly line off the surface, and the line tightened near where my bugger dropped. I felt the rod sections bow deep near the butt section and felt the tug and pull of the fish heading downstream. There was no stopping him as line slipped through my fingers and then i felt the reel spinning line out of the spool. I knew I had something big on the other end! I’m not sure where he was heading to but he was hauling ass like a 100 meter sprinter.

 I lost a trout earlier trying to horse him to the net. He got unhooked near the net. I wasn’t going to try to horse this big ogre in. The 6 weight bowed like my 8 weight bowing with a furious steelhead on the line. I had 8lb tapered leader on and was pretty sure that was enough to hold him from breaking the leader. I wasn’t sure how far down river he was going but I had plenty of backing and I was pretty sure he wouldn’t take it that far. There were no obvious obstacles I was able to see for the line to get caught on so I wasn’t too worried about that kind of danger. As I felt him slowing on his swimming journey I moved the bowed rod to my right putting some side pressure on him. He appeared to turn towards my side of the river but kept his distance. Slowly I started to bring in line as I brought the rod to my left facing across the river. He slowly followed with jerking tugs. He stayed deep so I figured it was a big smallmouth but had a thought it could be a big brown. 

 It took some struggling and I had him across from me in the distance. He turned, swam away, and again I couldn’t hold him back. The rod bowed deep again and my forearm was feeling the pressure. I was about to put the rod butt in my gut when he quickly turned and swam away with a weighty pull. I held on and had to let line slip through my fingers again. 

 Times like these I feel like enough is enough and start to bring the fish towards me putting a lot of stress on the rod and line. I’m going to let the fish go anyway but I sure wanted to see him in the net. Well, he decided to show me what he was when he broke the surface and shot up in the air like a hurdler. He was shaking his head and his fat body. He wasn’t as graceful as the trout or didn’t clear the water like the trout but he made a showing of his size!! That kinda got me excited seeing this fat smallmouth! After he plopped back into the water, within a second or two later he broke the surface with only his face to his gills visible. His body quivered violently and the water around him splashed everywhere. The line shook and the fly rod vibrated within my gripping hands. He disappeared beneath and started to swim up river. I started to bring in line as fast as I could, holding the bent rod high trying to keep a straight tight line. He was swimming slower but his weight and strength kept me from getting him towards me quickly. We struggled, or I struggled, with him for a few more minutes before I felt I was finally getting him tamed. 

 Bringing him up to the net I saw my bugger hooked tightly into his lower jaw. As he rose he must of felt defeated or just finally gave up and let me scoop him up. He was heavy and I was glad I had my net instead of my tailing glove. I was able to unhook him with a tug with my hemostats. He didn’t even flinch! I got a couple of pics and let him swim away out of my grasp. He was a beauty. 

 I fished a little longer under the hot sunshine and caught one more smaller smallie on the bugger. 

 I have to admit, besides the big smallie making my day, I was tired. Wading the current, struggling with caught fish under the hot sunshine wore me out. 

 Where I was the bank was kind of steep and brush and weeds covered the bank and forest to the road. I wasn’t about to try and make my way through the tangles and slowly waded the river water, along the bank and pebbles, upriver to more promising conditions to get me safely to the road.

 It was a struggling day on the river but I survived happily. 

~doubletaper

They Like’m Wet

                                                                       They Like’m Wet

6/11/26 

 One section of water I always try to fish on Tionesta Creek is usually fished pretty much. Usually there’s campers along the section or a vehicle parked at the site. This morning, as I drove by, there wasn’t a vehicle at the site. I pulled the truck down the lane and got my gear on. My Douglas 9’ 4 weight fly rod was already strung up on the front passenger side. I added some fresh 5x tippet and knotted on an elk hair caddis. I put my gear on and grabbed a few cigars. The morning was already warm out but the sun wasn’t completely over the far hillside or tree line. 

 Branches of green leafy trees lined the creek as far as the eye could see. Half the creek was dark from the shadows of the tree line on the opposite bank keeping the sun from filtering through. The water was clear but the brown stoney creek bed made the water color look like watered down coffee. I stepped into the cool creek water and slowly started wading to the middle of the creek looking for any risers. 

 One fish was rising out so I waded closer within casting distance. He wasn’t interested in the deer hair caddis I offered him. I switched caddis and a tan elk hair caddis got his attention with a swirl but he didn’t take it. There were a couple other risers in the shade of the creek. Though the risers all looked like they were rising for some kind of emerger by the way they splashed the water surface, I stuck with the dry caddis. I was casting upstream from the few risers I saw and letting the caddis drift into their zone but they wouldn’t grab it. There were bubbles and small debris drifting on the surface so I thought maybe the trout weren’t seeing my dry among the floating surface debris. I made a cast that landed the dry right on the spot I saw a rise. As soon as the caddis hit the water a trout rose and grabbed it. I was ready, for many times I had trout not take a drifting dry until I put it right on their head. I reared back the rod and my first trout was fighting against the tight line. 

 I continued to cast the caddis to the other occasional risers but they didn’t appear to be interested. The sun was still rising and I knew in time the shady section of water would soon be in direct sunlight and bringing down the heat. Being that I figured the trout were eating emergers or having breakfast underneath I decided to knot on a couple of soft hackle wet flies. That seemed to be what they were after.

 If I saw a rise in an area I would cast the wet flies upstream from them and let the wet flies drift within their sight. Many times I got a take. The fly line would shoot towards the take and I’d rear back the rod and the line would tighten. The trout would fight in anger as if they were upset they’ve been fooled.  

 If the trout grabbed the wet flies near the end of the swing it was usually a hard take like when they take a swinging bugger. Once caught they fought with head shakes and tugging the line like pulling the ropes ringing the big bell in the church steeple. Some of the rainbows would rise and clear the surface with aerial acrobatics. 

 The brown trout stayed low nearer the creek bed when they fought. There were many stream bed big rocks laying on the bottom so I had to always keep the rod line up from getting caught or rub against the rock edges. 

 It was a race against time before the sun would clear the trees and bear down on the water. I was the first to feel the sun rays being in the middle of the creek. It wasn’t long that I felt sweat on my brow. Slowly the shadows of the trees upon the water surface were disappearing. I continued to make long cast in the shaded areas of the water. Every once in a while I’d get a take on a wet fly. Most of the time it was my soft hackle pheasant tail. 

 Other times it was a Hen back and yellow floss body that I use to imitate a sulfur or PMD. The rainbows like the Hen back and Yellow. 

 It wasn’t long the whole creek was under the sunshine. The surface water glimmered like a fresh coat of satin sheen varnish under the sun rays. The trout quit biting in the area I was in so I decided to head down creek casting the wet flies.  

 I spent another 1/2 hour or so slowly wading and casting out but couldn’t get a bite. The humidity was heavy despite being in the cooler creek water. I turned to the bank and waded out to the truck.

 I never was one who liked to nymph fish. I would hang up a lot and lose my offerings on the stream bed too often. Now that I feel confident in wet fly fishing I’ll most likely stick with it more often than nymph fishing. I’ll still carry the basic nymphs but not as many different patterns. 

 When I started to fly fish I was more interested in dry fly fishing. Watching a trout rise and take one of my surface imitations is the royal experience. Knowing that I needed to know all aspects of fly fishing I continued to learn different technique's of fishing streamers, nymphs and wet flies. With advice from Phil Valdacchino, of Kettle Creek Tackle Shop, I gained confidence in wet fly fishing and feeling that I’m fishing them correctly. Lately I’ve been doing quite well catching trout on the wet flies when the fish aren’t taking surface mayflies or any of my streamer patterns. 

~doubletaper 

Fighting Mad

                                                                             Fighting Mad

6/10/26 

 Sometimes I come across a congregation of trout in far off places in rivers and bigger creeks. Places where it’s not easy to get to except long walks to such places or wading across the stream. I’m not saying that others haven’t been there before it’s just not easily accessible. These are usually on the opposite side of the stream that can only be accessible when the water is low or by a watercraft such as canoe or kayak. I’m sure there’s no secrete spots that fishermen haven’t fished or most of the trout haven’t been caught, I’m just commenting that there are areas that aren’t fished very often.

 The sun was high and the temperature was in the upper 70’s I presume. Nothing was happening on top of the water. The water surface was almost as smooth as a mirror without any shadows and flowing slowly out from the camper. There hasn’t been any rain to speak of and many places the water was so shallow that I could wade across if I wanted to. The trout wouldn’t take a bugger or even wet flies. Maybe they remembered me from last week when I gave quite a few sore lips and they knew my imitation's? Even the trout along the far bank weren’t interested. Down creek a ways there was riffling wavy water that I figured haven’t been fished for some time being it wasn’t close to the road. If people did enter from the road they would have had to make their way through the forest of high weeds, hidden objects, downed tree trunks and limbs etc. If they wanted easier access, they would have to walk through my campsite and either wade down creek or follow the overgrown path of uneasiness. No one has been around for that lately. I waded down creek puffing on my cigar kind of anxious to give the riffling water a try. I figured it was well oxygenated and cooler water for the fish. The far bank looked deeper, maybe knee deep, so that’s where I was headed for. 

 I had a Woolly Bugger on the line and was going to see if any trout inhabited the area. My first two trout were doozies! They grabbed the bugger hard as if it was their first big meal in days and they weren’t going to let any other trout eat it before them. It was tough bringing them up against the current. When I was able to get them across from me it was as if they had another gear and turned down creek with a burst of speed. After netting the first two I couldn’t get another bite in the area.   

 Either the others were wary of my presence, seeing how the caught fish scurried around in panic, or the others vacated the area because of all the commotion?

 I continued wading the shallow riffles, casting the bugger and letting it skirt the area. Most of the time it would get hung up on the rocks and I’d have to go fetch it. Seeing down creek, from about half the distance of the creek to the far bank looked deeper than what I was wading in. I start casting towards the far side and let the bugger swing down creek into, what looked like, knee deep water or so. I wouldn’t say I found the honey hole, but I did find hungry trout that my bugger was too tempting to pass up. The first two fish I caught were small smallmouth. Maybe they were nearer to the bugger when it dropped into the water. After those two it was time for the big trout to feed. They must have scared the smallmouth away cause after the first two I never caught another smallmouth.

 Each trout I caught hit the bugger with a convincing tug. Once hooked they scurried the area down creek to the fact that I wouldn’t dare try to horse them towards me with the 4 weight Douglas rod and 5x tippet. They were strong fighters and worked the oncoming current to their advantage. Some of the rainbows would have enough energy to skyrocket out of the water shaking the line before reentry. When I did get them up across from me, they too had a burst of energy, turning and bolting down creek like a fired torpedo and I had to let line slip through my fingers. Eventually I got most of them to the net, but it was a struggle.  

 For about an hour and a half I was hooking up with some energetic good size trout.  

 By around 11:00 I had enough of the hot weather and the bite slowed down anyway. I wasn’t too crazy about fishing any further down creek. Beyond the fast water it opened up to a wide section of flat water with little current flow. I wasn’t sure how deep it was, but I figured if there were trout in there, they weren’t going to be too active. 

 I turned and waded to the bank. Seeing the hazard conditions on the forest floor and hillside to the road I decided to just wade the bank up to easier access to the road. By the time I got to the camper I was hot, sweating and thirsting for a cold drink. It was 80+ degrees on the thermometer I hang on the outside wall off the camper under the awning away from direct sunlight. 

 It was lunch time and a cold brew. 

~doubletaper