A Proven Technique for Smallmouth on the Fly

The heat wave on the South coast broke Wednesday evening and yesterday started with a dense fog.  The ocean isn't cooperating right now and the rivers sounded like just the thing.

The mists were rising from the river when we launched.  I've seen the mists from the banks of rivers but had never been on the river, in a kayak, in them.  I was so busy thinking about how different it is to be in the swirls and columns than it is when watching them from the bank that I forgot to take pictures.  Next time, for sure.

The osprey and bald eagles were fishing all around us.  There were half a dozen osprey, and I believe there were three eagles, but eagles don't come as close as the osprey, making it hard to identify individual birds.

I think one of the most eerie sounds, ever, is the whispery screeching of an eagle coming out of the mist.

Fishing was good for a while.  The smallmouth were cooperating and when you hook a smallmouth with a fly rod, it feels like you've hooked a submarine.  They'll run and they'll leap, and when you get them to the boat, they'll take off again.  You just have to sit back and enjoy the fun until they tire out enough to grab them and remove the hook.

It the small rivers, making a quiet drift, I get turned around by the current quite often.  Instead of casting towards the bow, I'll need to cast left or right and sometimes back over my shoulder.  I can make those casts, but once in a while, when changing directions, I'll manage to loop the fly line around the rod, proving that just because I can cast in any direction doesn't mean I'm coordinated.

Unwrapping the line became a problem.  I hold the rod in a precarious balance, half to one side of me, half to the other, leaving the fly dangling in the water an inch or two below the surface.  Every time I had to clear the rod, holding it at its mid-point, a smallmouth darted up and grabbed the fly.

It's fun the first time that happens, but by the third or fourth time you're fiddling around at the tip of the rod and a fish grabs the fly, it get annoying.  "Dammit!" was met with hoots of laughter because surfs12foot had just caught a smallmouth the very same way!  It's a proven technique for smallmouth!

Oh, it got worse.  Doing a water haul on the back cast, a smallmouth hit the fly as soon as the fly hit the water, nearly yanking the rod out of my hand.  "I just want to cast you stupid fish!"  Surfs12foot did not, however, duplicate that technique, so more experimentation is needed.
 
The day got hot, the birds left, and the bite died off.  We called it a day.

It's been my experience, here, back East, up in Canada, that the hard part about smallmouth fishing is finding them.  Once you find them, it's hard to keep the little pests off your hook.

Yesterday was no exception.

Sounds like a fun day.  I love fly fishing for smallmouth.  Were you fishing top water or sub surface?

Sounds like a fun day.  I love fly fishing for smallmouth.  Were you fishing top water or sub surface?

It would have been more fun if it hadn't been quite so hot.  Someone said the area we were fishing got up to 105, and I'll take their word for it.  The hull of my Trident was feeling a bit squishy when we got back to the landing.   

I was fishing sub-surface.  Surfs12foot tried top water for a while, but they weren't having any of that.  I believe the number of osprey and eagles hanging around has taught them to dart up - but not too far - and get back out of the kill zone as fast as they can.

All the action happened in the top ten to twelve inches of the water.  We could watch them following the flies up and either reject it or take it near the surface.  I caught my largest fish when it followed the fly all the way back and I kept the fly about a foot deep in the water, moving it side to side - like the figure 8 we do when a muskie follows a lure.

This was my second trip that far up river and so far I've caught six smallmouth while unwrapping the line from the rod.  It works quite well.

Evidently the action caused by a pissed off fisherman trying to untangle a rats nest at the end of his pole is more natural than the techniques we practice so much. 

Evidently the action caused by a pissed off fisherman trying to untangle a rats nest at the end of his pole is more natural than the techniques we practice so much. 

 

Funny stuff!

Try actually being there, and see this whole thing unfold from a distance and not fall out of your kayak because your laughing so hard.