Was able to get out for a two hour river walk after work last night. I wanted to check out an area on foot that I have floated by a few times, but have never really put time into fishing due to time constraints and the fact that the setup really doesn't lend itself to fishing out of the boat easily.
I got to my location, and not really knowing the water temperature decided I would save myself a possible trip back to the truck by reluctantly putting my waders and boots on in the sweltering 80 degree direct sunlight that I was standing in. This turned out to be an excellent choice.
I hiked over to the water's edge and laid my tackle bag on the ground. I found myself in a moment of deep contemplation of what bait I wanted to use. I'm used to having two or three poles on my kayak and it had been a while since I was limited to one. Now the curly tail grub is not something I have used much before; but it gets more love on this site than OSG shaking hands after a seminar, so I decided I was going to give it a fair chance. So, a pearl white grub on a 1/8th Oz jig it was.
I threw my tackle backpack back on and stepped foot in the water. Dang, it felt amazing! I should have just worn jeans and sneakers, but wasn't going to take the time to change. I started off toward a downed tree sitting in the water, the roots of which created a small eddy in current. As soon as I got to where I wanted to stand on my first cast and stopped walking I heard the motor of a boat coming downstream. How! Not possible; this river would be barely suitable for a trolling motor! After realizing that the noise I was hearing was actually a swarm of mosquitoes I was standing in, and being bit about once per second I rushed over to a rockbar and threw on a longsleeve T-shirt I'd thankfully put In my bag. Man this was going to suck! Last year 9Left had recommended a really good bug repellent to me that I'd left at home; still no turning back.
I waded back over to the log, slapping my skin here and there in what was to be a constant combat for the next two hours. I approached my spot and tossed my grub beyond my target. Halfway letting the current bring it back to me, I felt an old familiar tug and set the hook! A few seconds later I was holding a tiny smallmouth, whom I refused to photograph to protect his pride and mine.
I continued on downstream toward a long and slightly submerged log that looked to hold something, anything, that might take a run at my grub. Casting out and bringing it parallel along the log I saw a flash and felt a sudden weight on my line. I set the hook and reeled in a decent sized rock bass; one of the more colorful I had seen, and the first I had caught out of this river. After a quick picture, I looked around to see if IGBullshark was hiding in the woods laughing at me. Relieved in my solitude, I set the little guy back into the water and he shot off toward home.
My mosquito bites now had mosquito bites on them, but I continued downstream a ways until the water was well above my waist. I was coming up on an area of wood structure adjacent to a high bank, and decided I would get out and walk the bank, tossing my jig in what holes (stop laughing) of structure I thought may hold a willing opponent.
Once out of the water, I instantly became thankful of my waders because, much like they protect one from water, they also do a great job of keeping a sea of mosquitoes at bay. My hands, neck and face were still fair game, but at least being out of the water wasn't letting them dine on me at a changed pace.
I continued along the bank, flipping my grub around and hoping for a taker. After dropping it in a small space between two logs a few feet below me I saw a smallie dart out from the darkness below and nail my grub. As fast as he had appeared though, he dove back down, leaving my grub still in plain view. Knowing he was there, I repeated the above steps and he once again made a passing blow and my grub, again leaving it behind as he retreated to his hole! This dude had some bad aim for sure, but I was willing to give him yet another chance. It turns out there is some truth to third times the charm, and this time he hooked himself on the grab and I used his current momentum to just swing him up and out of the water like I was Ike at the bow of his boat! We took a selfie and parted ways, maybe to meet again on a future float by his home.
Well, by this time the mosquito bites on my mosquito bites were starting to get mosquito bites, and I was getting close to whits end. I tossed around a few more current obstructions, the last of which was a huge rootball from a downed tree in what is considerably deep and fast water. If there was ever a hole that held one of these beautiful fish, this was it. I loosed the spool tension on my baitcaster and flipped it in the slack water right behind the rootball and almost instantly a very nice (looked to be around 17") smallie shot up and nailed my grub! Much to my surprise though, he had also missed his target, and so I reeled in my bait and again tossed it out. I stood there, like a mosquito Golden Coral for at least 15 or 20 minutes putting my bait back in that hole and also just downstream, but to no avail. After taking all that I could of the constant stabbing from microscopic daggers and maybe feeling a bit woozy from losing what must have been a pint of blood to them, I packed up and headed home like the setting Sun.
I'm going with some friends to the drive in tomorrow evening, but first, that rootball and I have a quick date after work.....
I got to my location, and not really knowing the water temperature decided I would save myself a possible trip back to the truck by reluctantly putting my waders and boots on in the sweltering 80 degree direct sunlight that I was standing in. This turned out to be an excellent choice.
I hiked over to the water's edge and laid my tackle bag on the ground. I found myself in a moment of deep contemplation of what bait I wanted to use. I'm used to having two or three poles on my kayak and it had been a while since I was limited to one. Now the curly tail grub is not something I have used much before; but it gets more love on this site than OSG shaking hands after a seminar, so I decided I was going to give it a fair chance. So, a pearl white grub on a 1/8th Oz jig it was.
I threw my tackle backpack back on and stepped foot in the water. Dang, it felt amazing! I should have just worn jeans and sneakers, but wasn't going to take the time to change. I started off toward a downed tree sitting in the water, the roots of which created a small eddy in current. As soon as I got to where I wanted to stand on my first cast and stopped walking I heard the motor of a boat coming downstream. How! Not possible; this river would be barely suitable for a trolling motor! After realizing that the noise I was hearing was actually a swarm of mosquitoes I was standing in, and being bit about once per second I rushed over to a rockbar and threw on a longsleeve T-shirt I'd thankfully put In my bag. Man this was going to suck! Last year 9Left had recommended a really good bug repellent to me that I'd left at home; still no turning back.
I waded back over to the log, slapping my skin here and there in what was to be a constant combat for the next two hours. I approached my spot and tossed my grub beyond my target. Halfway letting the current bring it back to me, I felt an old familiar tug and set the hook! A few seconds later I was holding a tiny smallmouth, whom I refused to photograph to protect his pride and mine.
I continued on downstream toward a long and slightly submerged log that looked to hold something, anything, that might take a run at my grub. Casting out and bringing it parallel along the log I saw a flash and felt a sudden weight on my line. I set the hook and reeled in a decent sized rock bass; one of the more colorful I had seen, and the first I had caught out of this river. After a quick picture, I looked around to see if IGBullshark was hiding in the woods laughing at me. Relieved in my solitude, I set the little guy back into the water and he shot off toward home.
My mosquito bites now had mosquito bites on them, but I continued downstream a ways until the water was well above my waist. I was coming up on an area of wood structure adjacent to a high bank, and decided I would get out and walk the bank, tossing my jig in what holes (stop laughing) of structure I thought may hold a willing opponent.
Once out of the water, I instantly became thankful of my waders because, much like they protect one from water, they also do a great job of keeping a sea of mosquitoes at bay. My hands, neck and face were still fair game, but at least being out of the water wasn't letting them dine on me at a changed pace.
I continued along the bank, flipping my grub around and hoping for a taker. After dropping it in a small space between two logs a few feet below me I saw a smallie dart out from the darkness below and nail my grub. As fast as he had appeared though, he dove back down, leaving my grub still in plain view. Knowing he was there, I repeated the above steps and he once again made a passing blow and my grub, again leaving it behind as he retreated to his hole! This dude had some bad aim for sure, but I was willing to give him yet another chance. It turns out there is some truth to third times the charm, and this time he hooked himself on the grab and I used his current momentum to just swing him up and out of the water like I was Ike at the bow of his boat! We took a selfie and parted ways, maybe to meet again on a future float by his home.
Well, by this time the mosquito bites on my mosquito bites were starting to get mosquito bites, and I was getting close to whits end. I tossed around a few more current obstructions, the last of which was a huge rootball from a downed tree in what is considerably deep and fast water. If there was ever a hole that held one of these beautiful fish, this was it. I loosed the spool tension on my baitcaster and flipped it in the slack water right behind the rootball and almost instantly a very nice (looked to be around 17") smallie shot up and nailed my grub! Much to my surprise though, he had also missed his target, and so I reeled in my bait and again tossed it out. I stood there, like a mosquito Golden Coral for at least 15 or 20 minutes putting my bait back in that hole and also just downstream, but to no avail. After taking all that I could of the constant stabbing from microscopic daggers and maybe feeling a bit woozy from losing what must have been a pint of blood to them, I packed up and headed home like the setting Sun.
I'm going with some friends to the drive in tomorrow evening, but first, that rootball and I have a quick date after work.....