Neighborhood Trout

                                                                        Neighborhood Trout

                                                                                 11/08/26 

 I was ready to pack up the camper and head home. After driving for internet service I saw the weather was suppose to be warmer overnight and sunny on Tuesday. I decided to stick around a couple more days till Wednesday being it was suppose to rain Thursday. Besides that I just got a new 9’ 6wt fly rod I was anxious to try out in the river. 

 My intentions of camping, in the first place, was for hunting. I had my turkey shotgun with 3” mags, my crossbow for deer, and my 22. for squirrel hunting. Of course I always have fly rods in my truck. The first few days the mornings were chilly but I dressed warm and went out for turkeys. The forest floor was covered with fallen crispy leaves that was too noisy to try walking around quietly. There wasn’t anything moving in the quietness of the forest. It was like being in a damp warehouse in the morning waiting for the rest of the warehouse crew. By noon the sun came out and warmed things up and with that the bugs were flying around my face, and since nothing was moving, I headed back to my camper. I hunted squirrels in the evening. Which, again amounted to sitting in the woods enjoying nature without wildlife. So I decided to go fishing when the weather warmed after breakfast. 

 Sunday morning, after breakfast, I got my fishing gear together. It was still in the upper 40’s but I have fished for trout in colder weather in designated trout streams. River fishing couldn’t be any different. The river holds lots of smallmouth, catfish and I’ve surprisingly have caught a few walleye besides suckers. I don’t usually key on trout, in the river, but I’ve caught them and know a few neighborhoods they usually hang out at. With the cold November water, and no ones been fishing the river much, they might be hungry and getting ready for the cold winter months ahead.

 I just got a Lamiglas 9’ 6wt fly rod and was anxious to use it. I fitted the 4 sections together, attached a reel with WF6F line and got my waders on. I got in the truck and drove up river to one of those neighborhoods I was hoping that a few trout were hanging out in. 

 I’m not sure it had reached 50 degrees yet when I stepped into the river. I dressed extra warm so I felt I was prepared for cold weather fishing for awhile. The noonday sun was up above the far tree line and I could feel the warmth it brought down on the river. The water was clean and clear so I knew I would have to make long casts and wade slow and easy not to spook the fish. The sun, downriver in front of me, caused a heavy glare on the surface water. Even with my polarized glasses on, it wasn’t helping much. It was like my eyes were still dilated from the eye doctor after leaving the office and everything, downriver, looked too bright. I was headed to the riffling, wavy water that emptied into deeper water where I figured fish would be hanging out. I casted a Woolly Bugger across the wavy shallow current and let it swing down river. I didn’t waste too much time fishing the shin deep water. I was just taking my time wading towards the tail out where I could drift the buggers into deeper water. Once I was within casting distance of the deeper water, I casted out across the river towards a good flow of water. I stopped wading and made a stand. 

 I started casting not too far out, at first, trying to cover the flowing current as much as possible. I figured the fish wouldn’t be too active with the colder water so I fished it like a nymph fisherman would fish a good run until they got their nymphs right in front of the fishes face. While watching my fly line arcing down river, slowly drifting the bugger downstream, I saw the arc start to straighten as if I caught a snag or a drifting leaf. I yanked the rod back and at first I thought I had snagged a stick or a bunch of leaves until I felt the line shoot upriver. I knew I had a fish on. He didn’t fight too frisky but he put up a good distant battle before I was able to get him to the net. Laying in the net the fine looking rainbow brightened, under the sun light, like a full length floor mirror with lighting. He looked well fed and healthy. After letting him swim away I continued to cast in the same neighborhood.  

 The next strike, which took awhile, came just about when the fly line started to straighten out down river at the end of the drift. I was slowly stripping the line towards me, along the side of a wavy run, when I thought I felt a tap. It could of been my bugger skipped off a rock or a drifting leaf caught it? I wasn’t sure but I casted across river again and let the bugger end its drift in the same area. This time, stripping it back, I felt a good take I was sure was a fish. I yanked the rod back and a fish took off towards the middle of the river. I gave him some line before turning the drag a bit tighter. He battled in the strong current across from me and then down river a bit. I swung the rod around coaxing him into the knee deep water behind me. It took some time to get him to follow but I got him in the less wavy water where it was easier to net him. Another fine looking healthy trout was resting in the net. 

 I felt pretty impressed catching 2 trout this time of year in November. I hardly see anyone fishing the river this time of year yet alone with a fly rod. Maybe fishermen don’t want to waste their time or rather hunt or stay home where it’s warm and cozy? Maybe they are up fishing for steelhead in Erie and if I lived closer that’s most likely where I’de be. 

 I was puffing on the last 1/4th of my cigar. The wind picked up some and with it brought a chill across my bearded face. My body was warm enough with the bright sun shining down upon me. Nothing more was striking my Woolly Buggers so I switched to a minnow looking Triple Threat. I was casting out, as far as I could comfortably, and watched the streamer plop into the water and take the leader underneath. The floating fly line arced and followed the surface current down stream. At the end of the drift I started to strip the streamer towards me in a stop and go motion. I thought I felt a bump, on the way towards me, but again it was so light I figured my streamer bumped a drifting leaf. I made another cast in the same area and pulled some line out so my streamer could drift down stream farther. Just as I thought the streamer was at the end of the drift, and the line straightened down stream, I felt a sweeping take. Not a hard jerking take but like a swipe that my fly line moved in the opposite direction it was drifting. I had the rod parallel to the water surface and pulled the rod and line out across my body behind me. The line tightened and I saw a surface splash down stream. A good head shake yanked the rod tip and I tightened my cold hands around the cork grip. By the fight I knew this was a heavier fish. It stayed and fought beneath and I wasn’t sure if it was a smallmouth or a trout. It wasn’t till I was fighting the fish, across stream, that I could see it’s oblong shape and knew I had a trout on the other end. We had a good battle as he stayed in the faster wavy current across from me before heading down stream. I tried bringing him in the calmer water behind me but he fought too hard to force him that direction. I moved the rod upriver and he followed reluctantly with a few tugs. Once upriver from me I raised the rod and he turned down stream. I got him close enough and I had all but a few inches of fly line out from the tip top. He slapped the surface trying to stay away. I had a hard time getting him within netting distance and was afraid he was going to get away but I kept my cool and got him into the net safely. Wow! A nice hefty rainbow. 

 Well, after that I lit another cigar and continued to cast in the area. I couldn’t get another strike with any of my streamers. I waded down river and fished the wavy current flowing from a shallower rocky section that extended clear across the river. I had high hopes because it looked like another nice neighborhood that a few trout might be hanging out in. Maybe they weren’t hungry or they were out of the area cause I couldn’t get a strike. By now the earth was slowly rotating and the sun was starting to disappear behind the mountain of trees down stream and casting shadows upon the water. Without the full sunshine on me I started to feel chilled. I moved back up to where I caught the other trout but I couldn’t get a strike. When I finished smoking the cigar to a short stub I hooked the streamer I was using to the hook keeper and headed to the bank and up to my truck. 

Though chilly it turned out to be a good day to use my new fly rod in the neighborhoods! 

~doubletaper  

Slump Busters

                                                                            Slump Busters

10/14/26 

Brown trout like wet flies!

 Let me start off by saying I’ve been in a slump of not hooking up and not bringing any fish to the net. This includes trout or smallmouth I fish in the river. I suppose it’s like a professional baseball player coming to bat each game and not getting a hit. This has been going on for the past few outings.

 They had stocked the creek I was wanting to fish on October 1st. It’s a fly fishing only catch-and-release. While camping around 45 minutes away I visited this stream twice later on and couldn’t hook up at all. Another day I visited, driving from home, and fouled hooked one and missed a grab on a streamer. I went 0 hits in 3 different outing spending at least 5 hours each day. 

 I tried everything from nymphs, dry flies, streamers, sucker spawn and imitation terrestrials without a hook up. Not that I saw any of the other fishermen hook up but I felt, with my experience, I would do better! Sure the water has been pretty clear and low level conditions but there are deeper pockets and plenty of faster water to fish. On the 14th I decided I was going back out there and was determined to hook up at least once!!

 It was an overcast, gray sky kind of day. Autumn came early as the trees changed their leaf colors that seamed like all at once. The colorful landscape around was pleasant. With that the gusts of wind played a part in blowing the more fragile leaves off the branches and limbs to the earth. This amounted to surface, as well as beneath, to hamper the drift of whatever I decided to offer the fish. Just getting my offerings between the floating Leaves was a challenge in itself. 

 It had rained the evening before and overnight. I was right in thinking the water would be a bit discolored just enough to maybe disguised my leader from any line shy trout. The water level didn’t appear to rise any. Being this was a tail out, from an over the wall dam, I didn’t expect it to rise much. As far as the water temperature it was well below ‘too warm to fish’ conditions. 

 I assembled my 4 piece, 4 weight Session rod and attached my Hardy reel with double taper line. I put on my waist wader, fly vest and grabbed a few cigars and my custom made trout net. I had everything to offer the trout in my vest pockets and was determined to use every last one of them to hook up to a trout.

 At the water edge I was able to see some oblong shapes of trout below the surface but it had dirtied up from the rain as I thought it would. The sun was barely shining through the overcast conditions which didn’t appear to effect the dirty water much. I started out with a couple of nymphs but switched to streamers within a few minutes after not getting a take on the nymphs. Well, the streamers, Wooly Buggers and Triple Threats weren’t drawing any attention either that I could tell. I did have the whole section of water to myself and slowly waded, fishing this upper section of the project area from the beginning wire to the section that got too deep to wade. Let’s just say I spent hours of casting. I kind of felt like a baseball player, at the batting cages, dreaming about getting a hit in a ballgame and breaking the slump.

 It wasn’t long after I started fishing rain feel down like a heavy mist from the sky. It blanketed the whole area that it almost looked foggy down stream. I went back up to my truck and put on my light rain jacket as it was still in the 60 degrees temperature wise. Without any takers in the past hours I pulled out another cigar and thought about the situation. How can I not hook up with at least one stupid trout that have been stocked just 13 days ago? 

 As I recall, according to the stocking schedule, the state had stocked the creek with brown trout. In all my experience I have caught more brown trout on wet flies than anything else I have offered them in tough conditions. I knotted on a wet fly and dropped a beaded nymph below. I lit my cigar and was going to intimidate them, once and for all, with a wet fly. 

 Up near the deeper wavy riffles, I stood on the bank, and dropped my offerings, under an indicator, up in the wavy water and high-sticked it down in front of me and beyond. On one occasion, as I was bringing the line towards me, watching my indicator dragging the surface towards me, when I saw a trout rise to my offerings. It must have snapped at one or the other at least 4 or five times. I gave another cast up stream and watched the same thing happen again as I was bringing the line in again. Without hooking up I decided to remove the indicator and try high-sticking my offerings. Being the water was kind of deep I added a small split shot to make sure my nymph drug near bottom while my wet fly drifted mid-level. It took a while, but I finally got a good strike at the end of the drift, and my first trout was fighting the line. The 4-weight rod bowed good as the trout took off across creek. It was a battle as I was fighting the heavy fish on 4lb test. He went up towards the bridge of surface rocks that caused the riffling water but turned downstream with the resistance of the rod. Upon him going down creek, with force, the Hardy reel clicked out line, like the rhythmic tapping of a woodpecker against a hollow tree trunk! I slowly walked the bank down creek some to calmer water getting a better place to net this angry trout. 

 Initially, I was able to see I had a good hook up in his mouth but down creek he must have rolled and now, as he swam up and across creek, it was if I had him by the tail. This made it extra hard getting him to me but I prevailed and netted him safely. I found my bottom nymph had him by the tail but my dry fly, the top fly, was hooked in the inside of his mouth. After dislodging the tail hook up I got the nice brown trout turned in my favorite and unhooked the wet fly from his mouth! What a bruiser of a brown trout! 

 My slump was over! The initial hook up was a fair ball with the tail hook as an error for extra bases. Whatever, The slump was over. 

 After releasing the brown trout, I just knotted on two different wet flies. I left the small split shot pinched about 12” from the top fly, and without an indicator, decided to fish this way until my cigar burns to the nub. 

 On occasion, and throughout the day, trout would rise here and there as if taking emergers. When I see fish splashing the surface, rather than sipping, I feel they are taking emergers as they rise to the surface before the emerging fly flies off. There wasn’t anything apparent I could see drifting on the surface and the only thing I saw flying about, rarely, was small midges in the 20 hook size range or smaller. I did try a small dry fly earlier but couldn’t get any takers. Most of the fish rising lately were down stream in the shallower riffling water. I slowly made my way towards them casting across creek as I stopped and go, and let the wet flies drift down creek. On one occasion I saw a trout come towards my offering but refused it. On another occasion, before I got to the shallower riffles, I felt a tug of a take and yanked the rod for the hook set. The trout took off up creek and I knew I had him by the mouth. He fought tooth and nail but I kept side pressure on him and tired him out till he swam down creek in defeat. It wasn’t that tough bringing him towards me and getting him in the net. 

Another real nice brown.  

 Upon releasing him he was pretty worn out. I faced him upstream to get fresh water through his gills and when I felt him revive, I let him go. He took off slowly but was upright swimming towards the deeper water. With him taking the brighter top wet fly, I had confidence I had two wet flies that the hungry trout couldn’t resist.

 Down creek I casted up in the riffles and kept the rod high so as not to let the fly line drag too much before pulling my offering too quickly downstream. Once they drifted down creek some, I would drop the rod and near the end of the drift raise it slightly to let the wet flies rise. I kept the split shot on even though the water was shallower risking a bottom snag. 

 Watching my fly line it took off up creek and I knew I had another taker. As soon as I set the hook, the line tightened and the trout turned and took off down creek as if he was propelled with the help of the strong current. Battling a trout in shallow water I feel is more intensifying than in deeper water. I feel the riffling, wavy surface current causes more erratic line fluctuation than a straight-line fight in a deeper pool. Anyhow I had a good battle getting him to the net safely.

 

 He was a nice bruiser of a brown trout.

  Keeping on for some time, with the wet fly combination, I noticed a few rises way across creek that looked a tad deeper. The problem with casting over there was a semi-surface bolder, between me and there, a bit downstream causing a back eddy and swirling water behind it. Again, the risk was possible but the opportunity for a hook up was more overbearing!

 I landed my cast just upstream and just beyond the boulder. My floating line caught in the back eddy not knowing what would become of my offering below. Just then I saw my floating line pull up creek and I reared the rod back, pulling in slack line, for the hook set. At first you would of thought I had a bottom snag or caught the semi-surface boulder as the line lifted off the water and the 4 weight bowed as if the line was stuck to the rock, but no! The line took off up and away and I could feel I had a monster on the other end. He tugged harshly and swam around in the distance with frantic pulling and tugging. The 4 weight flexed and arced with each tug as I held tension on the fly line. Maybe, as he felt he wasn’t getting away at this point, he turned down creek and decided to take the battle to a different area. The line cut through the surface water, missing the semi-surface boulder, and continued down creek. The Hardy reel clicked loudly as line pulled out and through the rod eyes. The trout didn’t stop till he was well in deeper slower current downstream. There he put up a good fight while I was able to reel in line when I felt comfortable to do so. (I didn’t want a bunch of line floating around when I got him near me.)

 He, we, put on a good fighting show should have anyone be watching. He splashed around now and then and I was patient enough not to force him in. Once I felt the tension of the line ease up between my fingers I started to bring him up creek against his will. Once in the shallower water he wasn’t all that grateful. He started splashing water around like he was drowning and didn’t know how to swim. By now I figured I had a real good hook set and kind of laughed to myself even though I knew something could go wrong. I slowly waded to a deeper portion of water and slowly forced him towards me. He swam down creek but was unable to convince me to give him more distance. All in all I had him coming to the net and scooped him in. Wow, another bruiser of a brown trout!! 

 He was pretty worn out so it took some time to get the energetic life back into him. I took my time facing him upstream getting a good flow of water through his mouth and gills. Once I felt a good tail swat, as I held him by the neck in front of his tail fin, I let go and he calmly swam into the current.

 Now, though they just stocked this 13 days ago this is a catch-and-release area. I’m not sure how big of brown trout they stocked but usually the freshly stocked brown trout have white belly’s and not as much a pronounced body pattern. Besides that I never known them to stock a bunch of big brown trout in a project area not specified as a trophy trout section. Wherever these big brown trout come from they looked well fed and had the energy of well trained fighters. 

 My cigar was almost to the nub so there wasn’t much time left for my exit. My arms could feel the cold wetness from the constant sprinkling of rain and I could feel the temperature getting a bit colder. I was thinking one more catch or if I get snagged up on the bottom I’ll call it a day.

 It just so happen that I got snagged up and broke off. I reeled in my empty line and strolled back to the truck. I took time to dress into street clothes and put on a warm sweatshirt while the truck heated up under the fine misty rain.

 The slump was over. I was as happy as a league leader in hits and RBI’s! 

~doubletaper

Tionesta Smallies

                                                                  Tionesta Smallies

9/01/26 

 It was a cloudy overcast day when I started out. The light blue sky was rarely seen in the background as the clouds below moved slowly. Every once in a while the sun would appear as often and as quick as a shooting star might be seen streaking the sky at night. A cool breeze would gently blow up stream but not enough to cause wild casts with my 9’ foot fast action 5 weight fly rod.

 I was prepared to catch some long time resident trout. I had all my trout offerings including Wooly Buggers, Triple Threat streamers, San Juans, nymphs and dry flies. Usually the trout would hang out in the cooler water across creek where mountain water ran down the shale mountain side and spill, like a spigot, into the stream. I waded out and started casting towards the far side hoping to interest one of those homely trout. I was mostly casting out Woolly Buggers, Triple Threats and wet flies but wasn’t having takers for the past hour or so. I bided my time puffing on a cigar as I waded and fished myself down creek. I decided to knot on and just keep using a Triple Threat streamer and cast towards the far bank.

 The water was a bit colored but I was able to see the boulders beneath the surface water out quite a distance. The water I was casting towards looked anywhere from 2 to 4 feet deep but could have been deeper in some areas. I had plenty of room for my back cast so I was able to make long forward casts out across creek. 

 From years past I knew there was a deeper pocket I was slowly moving towards. Near enough I stopped wading and took a stand, like an ice cream truck in a vacation rental complex in the off season, hoping to attract any residence. With a back cast I timed perfectly, I whipped a forward cast a few feet from the far bank across creek.The Triple Threat fell into the water and, after it sank some, I slowly started to strip it in to prevent it from snagging the creek bed of rocks or other debris. The floating fly line was still curving down creek when the line kind of slowed and stopped drifting. I thought maybe I got caught up on a snag so I wristed the rod upward to free it. With that I felt a tug and I realized I had a fish. I forcefully yanked the rod back trying to make sure the hook point penetrated the mouth of the taker of my streamer. 

 The fish swam upstream initially before turning down creek with more weighty tugs. It didn’t fight, scurrying forcefully about, like a trout but kept with tugging pulls. My 5 weight flexed with the fighting fish but I was able to bring the fish in without much trouble. I netted a nice smallmouth. 

 I wasn’t too surprised being I have caught a smallmouth on occasion but not too often.   After I released him I straitened out the polar fibers of the Triple Threat and started to cast towards the same area. 

 Maybe it was the second or third cast out when another fish took the streamer as it drifted down creek. I felt the take as the line pulled outward. I yanked the rod back with authority making sure it would penetrate a smallmouths jaw where as I needn’t to be so harsh in a trouts soft lips. The fish pulled forcefully towards the far bank and then down creek. I felt and saw the 9’ fly rod sections bow into the middle sections. I held the cork grip tightly as the active fish shook and pulled more as he swam down creek. The reel spit out some tight line as I felt it slip though my tensioning fingers.There was hardly a current I was fighting him against but he fought with weighty pulling trying to free himself. Once I got his aggressive tugging energy tiring I was able to bring him towards me. Closer to me, though, he had enough energy to dart away but the resistance of the bowed rod kept him going too far. Near me I got the net beneath him and quickly scooped him in it. He was a bit angry as he flopped in the net to get free. He was a fat good creek size smallmouth. 

 After that, I fished a little longer but couldn’t get any more fish interested. All the while I puffed on another cigar till it got too hot to be comfortable enough to fish. The heat from the sun felt like a laser beam pointed right at me and I felt like I was melting like the wicked witch. Looking up the heavy cloud cover, from this morning, was reduced to small cotton candy puffs slowly drifting below the bright blue sky. I waded out and headed for the truck.

~doubletaper

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