For the Love of Bass Part 1

For years I have been trying to get myself a river resident smallmouth bass.  Trout fishing has always taken priority when passing through this part of the county.  Flow rates were always good in the head waters I was aiming to fish, however the smallmouth water was typically blown out during high water years.  This year has been exceptionally dry and trout water critically low.  The smallies were now accessible and the trout distraction absent.

We left to the river under the cover of night.  It was going to be a hot day.  The canyon would be hovering around 100 degrees F.  Our intention was to hit the trail before sunrise, find our small mouth and get the hell out.  Like usual, our plans dissolved.

After a gut busting breakfast in town, we made the drive up the winding road to the river.  The sun was already breaking over the canyon ridge and the mercury was rising.  I rigged a 4wt for stripping small streamers and 6wt for banging the banks with poppers.  We geared up and headed up a narrow deer trail that ascended up and over a steep escarpment.  The descent looked gnarly and I questioned how we were to climb our way out.

 Once we scrambled our way down to the water, figuring how to get out had already become a forgotten after thought.  I made a cast across a current and let it swing through the back eddy.  I held it for a moment and began stripping upstream suddenly getting vicious grabs.  The takes were rapid and strong, for a moment I had a powerful smallmouth bend my 4wt deep into the blank.  As usual, I lost another heart breaker.  What a trend for this year.

Further upstream, we found some pocket water with short rapids.  It didn't take long to get a smallmouth to stick.  A cookie cutter 8 incher, but it was the species I was looking for.

We made our way upstream and I switched out my 4wt for my 6wt.  I tied on a crayfish pattern and dead drifted the tail outs, hoping to stick a pike minnow.  Another species that I have had missed opportunities catching. I missed a grab from my dead drifted crayfish as I foolishly lifted my rod before a proper downstream presentation.  It was getting stiffling and my brain was turning into mashed potatoes.  We foolishly pushed forward upriver only to waste hours of precious travel time back home.
In just 8 hours we were to gear up for another 300 miles southbound for some epic largemouth bass fishing.  Two days of straight driving and fishing, who needs sleep when your driven by addiction.  Die by the fly.