Bigger Offering, Bigger Fish, Right?

 

Bigger Offering, Bigger Fish, Right?

7/11/2021

 

  I pushed off around 7:45am. My kayak was packed for the morning fishing adventure for smallmouth. I took my Allen Fly Fishing Compass, 9’ 6 weight, fly rod with F6WF line. My intentions were to fish poppers all morning trying to make smallies rise in the discolored river water.

  Soft white clouds covered the sky overlapping each other. Occasionally they would separate and the pale blue sky above them would be visible. The light of the sun brightened up the morning but was unseen at the time. There was nearly a breeze as was evident by the green leafy trees that lined the riverbank. The water was still chocolate stained like an over milky chocolate milkshake. Along the banks though was clear enough in depth that a fish should be able to see or at least hear my gurgling popper on the surface.

  The last couple of outings, before the rain storm, I fished more often across river towards the far bank. I decided to concentrate on the road side on this trip. After pushing off I paddled to the middle of the river and paddled my way upstream a ways.

  I found when the water is high the smallmouth don’t hug the tree lined bank or boulders along the bank. I figured with the higher water and chocolate color mid-river, with stronger current, I would drift out away from the bank further then when the water is lower.

  My first hook up was just before 9:00am. The smallie wasn’t a big one by any means but it felt good not missing him.

 

 The next smallmouth almost caught me off guard. I was looking down river letting my popper drift pretty far down river away from the bank while I was anchored. I heard that familiar gulp and yanked the rod back without visual contact of where the bass took my popper. When the line shot up out of the water the tip section bowed and the popper didn’t come flying back at me. The smallmouth put up a good fight with weighty turns. A few times he surfaced and splashed before returning deep. I got him to the net safely. 

 

 I actually went 3 for 3 with hook ups and getting them to the net before missing one. To reward myself I took out an HC Habano Colorado pigtail perfecto and lit it up.

 

 That’s when I noticed the sky was more blue with less clouds. It didn’t look like rain at all, at least at the time. The weather people did say it may rain come afternoon. Just looking down river it looked peaceful.

  

 I took my time paddling over to each side of the river and fished where I thought was a better place where fish may hold. I’d toss the anchor out at times to slow my drift and hoped it ‘catch’ on something below to hold my position. It was almost 10:00 when I got my last OK size smallie.

  With the sun out and nearing noon the fish weren’t too cooperative. I took out a dark churchill to bide my time. I didn’t have anywhere else to go so I wasn’t in a hurry to get back to camp.

 It didn’t look like rain either so I just relaxed tossing poppers and smoking the churchill while slowly drifting just out from the banks.

  I started offering the fish different color poppers like a clown selling colored balloons of different sizes at the carnival but didn’t have any takers. I tried swinging streamers in the faster current but didn’t have any takers either. The stogie lasted a long time so that was my enjoyment while the bite quit. Besides the stogie, watching nature unfold along the river bank was entertaining. 

  I watched a couple of ducks fly about like two children chasing each other in the schoolyard playground. A gaggle of geese, with young ones, grazed in the grass along the banks. I even got to see an eagle soar by and circled a couple times as if looking for an afternoon fish dinner. Birds chirped in the near by trees as I passed. Crows could be heard in the distance as if having a loud shouting match during a family picnic softball game. On occasion I would hear a raven gawk as it flew by.

  My kayak was steady in a back eddy a bit further out from the bank. There was a deep wavy run of water I could just reach with my casts further out in open water. My popper would catch the inner seam and I would gurgle it before letting it drift. Without any takers I decided to attach a bigger chubby bait fish looking popper to my fast-snap at the end of my 8 pound tippet. “Bigger poppers, bigger fish” I thought as if I was joking at myself. My second cast I got the chubby popper a little further out into the faster current and riffling water. I gurgled it harshly to attract attention and let it drift down with the current along the seam. I gave a couple more pops when it drifted out of the seam into the slower current down river. That’s when my joking became real!

 I watched and heard the gulp that took my chubby popper under. It sounded like when my anchor slips from my grip and splashes into the water. I yanked back the rod like I was going to rip his lips right from his jaw. I didn’t see the fish but didn’t have to knowing this wasn’t some every day hoodlum steeling my petty belongings. The rod bowed into the midsection and there was no give at the end of the line. It felt like I was tugging on the anchor rope with the anchor stuck on a log. This evidently made him angry I suppose. He exploded out of the water and shook the popper and line like a clothe line in a gust of wind with clothes attached. I gripped the cork firmly stiffening my fingers wrapped around it. He twisted his body in midair staring up at the sky before splashing down in a heap. He swam into the faster current taking line out of the reel up through the guides. With the rod arced I could feel the strengthening force within my grip as the smallmouth sped with the current. Down river he swam into the slower current straight down form me and continued toward the bank. His force actually spun my kayak towards him. He tugged and surfaced briefly as I watched the turbulence from his frantic surface struggle. Going deep he swam closer to the bank, to my left, and I was able to bring in some line. I knew there were huge boulders below around me in the deep water I was in. I kept the rod up trying to prevent him from going under one or dragging my leader or tippet across a rough edge. He got between the short distance from me and the bank when he appeared to just stop. The rod was still arced but I didn’t feel any tugging. I wasn’t sure if there was a lone branch he may have got under or what? I moved the rod towards the water surface and slowly pulled the rod away from whatever stopped the smallie. Whether he was that tough to not being pulled away or my line was caught on something momentarily I’ll never know? He gradually came towards the pulling rod force and rose up enough I saw his bronze scaly sides and the size of my catch. As he rose I quickly raised my rod and followed him as he swam upriver passed me. I’m glad I didn’t have the anchor out. The kayak was turning slowly counterclockwise as if in a nonviolent whirlpool. He spun around the kayak so fast I raised the rod high over my head hoping my line wouldn’t get caught on the back of the kayak and hoped he wasn’t going to swim under the kayak. He ended up swimming between the kayak and open waters and forced his way down river again taking line. There was no way holding him back. We had quite a little longer battle of strength and wits as he refused to get any closer for the time being. I wasn’t gaining any ground between us and I wasn’t letting him have any more line during the short brawl. I was anxious to get him in but was patient enough not to over do it. He eventually had enough of the stand still and started to swim upriver. His mouth appeared, with popper attached, on the surface briefly as he tried to shake it loose splashing water about. He disappeared below and swam between me and the bank. I reeled in line then reached back for my net. I held onto the cork handle with one hand trying not to loosen my locked wrist. My forearm was tight and as solid as a steel pipe. He made a couple of quick escape runs that didn’t get him very far. I gradually moved the arced rod up behind me and he drew closer. Once close enough I wasted no time scooping him up in the net once I saw the popper just dangling from his lips. I took a sigh of relief when I got him into the net and in the kayak.

 

  After I released him I looked at my watch and it was 12:30. Looking up I saw more clouds moving in, like heavy smoke from a steam engine starting its way along the railroad tracks, cover the blue sky. I fished another hour hooking one more smallmouth without any more rises before heading to the launch area.

  Just as I got my kayak and gear drug over to my camper it started to sprinkle and a good warm rain followed.

….And that’s how this story ends.

~doubletaper