A Break in the Action

 

A Break in the Action

7/29/22

  I had a friend drop me off 2 1/2 miles upriver with my kayak. I had a 6 weight fly rod and plenty of poppers to fish for smallmouth bass. I hooked one and missed one in the first ½ mile. Things were slow. I was about 2 miles upriver from my truck when my fly rod snapped do to my error. I usually carry a spinning rod with me in the extra rod holders in the kayak but I decided not to on this float. Bad choice! Disappointed, I paddled the 2 miles back to my truck and headed to camp. It was around 1:30 when I reached the campsite. Brian was still there and I told him what happened. I took my gear out of the kayak and put the stuff in my float tube. I assembled my Winston 6 weight fly rod. I wasn’t done yet! Brian took me upriver again and dropped me off about a mile from the launch site. I was back in the game.

  I started finning my way across river casting that way to get line out. Surprised, a smallmouth lunged at my popper unexpectedly and I totally wasn’t ready. He refused to show up again once I got settled and ready.

  The water seamed to clear up some from the morning. The bank sides I was casting to a couple of days before were pretty shallow. Know wonder why I wasn’t raising any fish to my poppers. I concentrated on casting further out from the bank and casting more often mid-river in deeper water. With the bright sun shining down and the warm temperature I figured the bass were holding in deeper water or in more riffling current. While drifting downriver a I did catch a couple of smaller smallmouth and missed one before I came into a deep wavy current partially out in the middle of the river.

 

  There was a big exposed boulder that had a calm back eddy behind it. I was finning my way towards it while casting the popper into the calmer water behind it. I made a cast maybe 15 yards in the calmer water across and down from the boulder. I made a few quick strips towards me and the popper splashed noisily as it skirted the surface my way. A smallmouth suddenly surfaced, half exposed, and quickly gulped at the slow moving popper like a guy in a hot dog eating contest seeing how many dogs he can get down before time ran out. I let him take it under briefly then yanked the rod up and back. The line instantly tightened, the rod arced towards the fish and the spool spun spitting out line as the smallie took off into the faster current. I started to fin frantically to get out of the wavy current and into the eddy behind the boulder. I could tell the smallie wasn’t a light weight and held the rod tightly like carrying a briefcase through a New York Subway. Once I was in the back eddy I had more control of the action.

  The smallmouth started to swim towards the far bank and up river some. I held the line taut without giving him much line as he was pulling off before hand. He turned with the current and headed downriver again tugging the line and flexing the rod. I held myself steady with the rod high as I watched the leader cut through the surface water. The smallie swam from my left, downriver from me, through the calmer water and beneath the faster current on my right. Though the rod was arced he tugged some more as if to be sure I was still on the other end. As he continued to struggle neither of us was gaining any ground. I couldn’t get him any closer and wasn’t giving him any more line. It was if who had who?

  Back through the calmer water he broke the surface. With half his body exposed he shook the popper that hung from his mouth. Water splashed about and then he disappeared into the river as quick as he showed up. It was if he came to the surface just to see who was on the other end. He sped into the faster current to my left so I angled the rod down to my right. He swam closer with force and semi-circled through the calmer water and back into the faster current to my right. I angled the rod to my left and brought in more line. He was losing strength and I was gaining ground. He made unsuccessful attempts, with tugs, not to come nearer to me as I reeled line onto the spool. He splash helplessly as I lifted him to the apron.

 

 Well, that’s what I’m talking about!

  A little later on two kids in their kayaks and a guy in a fishing pontoon passed by. They had spinning gear and were just drifting as they fished casting towards the bank. I wasn’t in a hurry and slowed my pace letting them get downriver a good ways.

  I was just out from the bank kind of finning and touching rocks with the tips of my fins. I was not that far from the bank casting out towards open water. There was big boulders beneath that I was able to steady myself against at times. The sun was high above the water casting shadows below the trees that overhung the river. I made a cast down to my right in a darker tree shadow the overhung from the bank side. The popper fell and I let it drift just beneath the leafy branches before popping it towards me. A smallmouth exploded out of the water, pouncing on it, like a male feral cat on a young rabbit. After setting the hook it was if he was terrorizing the popper trying to jar it loose. He took off out into the deeper water down from me. There were big boulders beneath surrounding me so I kept the rod tip high not to let the leader or tippet rub against the boulders as the fight with this mad fish continued. After he struggled out in open water he energetically swam towards the bank again. I was holding my flippers steady against the rock bed. The rod was arced good and I was slowly bringing in line. The smallie swam, from the bank, towards me deep. I could see there was a big boulder between the bank and I and wouldn’t you know it he got himself beneath he boulder before I could steer him downriver. I tugged and swung the rod trying to get him out as if trying to dislodge an anchor beneath a sunken waterlogged tree limb. It wasn’t working very well. With the rod arced, and pointing towards the stuck fish, I slowly drifted downriver. I got myself below him and angling the rod near the water surface I was able to force him out from under the boulder. Not liking that his escape plan didn’t work he desperately struggled furiously not wanting to get anywhere near me. It took some time and patience but I was able to get him to the apron also.

  Looking downriver there was a branchy down tree limb that laid out from the bank. The kayakers were casting towards the branches. I lit up a stogie and watched them for a short bit waiting for them to give up and drift down river.   

 

  When I finally drifted within casting distance of the fallen limb I spent some time trying to coax a smallie out from the branches. A smaller one tried for the popper but I missed it. Other than that the other fishermen must have spooked them enough the bigger boys weren’t coming out to play.

  I wasn’t very far from my exit point and just drifting slowly. The far bank was rocky and sometimes shady beneath the overhanging trees. I knew there was some deeper pockets along the rocky bank. I had a gaggle of geese watching me as a fished and drifted by.

 

  I made casts as close to the boulders as I could and stripped them towards me upon the calm surface water. In between coves of boulders, in the shadows, I tried to make soft casts and swim the silver popper towards me like a dying bait fish trying to recover upon the surface. In one of the coves the popper fell to the surface and a smallmouth rose and inhaled the popper like it was an easy meal. Maybe I had way to much slack line out but I reared back while pulling in line. The line shot up out of the water and tightened. The smallie exited the water like a kid jumping from a trampoline high into the air. His body was fully exposed in mid air and not seeing the popper I thought he shook it loose. He splashed down upon the calm water and went under leaving a whirl of bubbles on the surface like a bubbling hot tub. As he disappeared deep the line tightened again with the rod arced and quivering like that of a ham operators long antenna in a wind storm. We had a good battle as he covered water around me like a shark swarming in for the kill. Only thing was he was attempting to get away and I was determined on bringing him in. Eventually I won out. The reason I never saw the popper was that he inhaled it further into his mouth before I was able to set the hook in his jaw.

 

 As I was crossing the river to my exit I was able to coax one more smallie before calling it quits.

 

  Though I wasn’t happy about breaking my fly rod I didn’t give up and it turned out to be a fine day of catching after all.

~doubletaper