Going Home

"I frankly don't make much of a living, but I make a hell of a life"  
-Jack Gartside


The first few holes as you wade down from the low water bridge are chub water. You always fish them but in all the years you’ve been here bass never seem to come until a mile or so into the walk. As you wade downstream and scatter suckers the motions are automatic and your mind is elsewhere. The walk is not without entertainment however as the foundation of a building from a time long past always draws the eye. Ancient seeming buildings dot this creek and you always take a few minutes to stand and wonder who looked out over the water so long ago. You’ve toyed with the idea of actually doing some research on the area in the past but have been secretly afraid that the answer won’t be nearly as fun as the mystery.

Once the creek narrows to a few feet across and the pops from the gun range are disappearing into the distance you start prepping yourself for the first good hole. No wider than 10 feet across, the steep rocky bank is the first clue of what treasures this creek holds. You slink through the brush, scanning the water and waiting for the first sign of a bass in the sea of Green Sunfish and shiners. Finally a slim shadow glides across the pool flanked by scattering baitfish. Checking over your shoulder, you start your back cast and are instantly hung up on a bush that wasn’t there seconds before. Once your streamer is unhooked you adjust and place the fly a few feet in front of the cruising fish. Within moments the 8 inch smallmouth is in your hand. After a quick unhook and the surprisingly powerful stroke of his tail the fish is back to his patrol.

You’ve told a scant few other people about this creek and the chosen you have were thoroughly and vigorously vetted before hand. Whenever you find a new guidebook for Missouri you nervously scan its contents to make sure your secret is safe. Some days you are convinced this is purely paranoia and in the grand scheme of water it is wholly unimpressive. It has remained unknown so far perhaps because the numbers and size can’t compare to the more storied rivers down south in the Ozarks proper. It may be that you are so protective of the creek because of the memories it holds moreso than the water itself. The summer days spent following your father down the creek throwing beetle spins until the blaring August sun drove you into the pools to cool off. The day 2 longnose gar swam so close to you that you could have reached out to touch them and sparked an utter fascination with the armor plated dinosaurs that has persisted to this day. Subconsciously you have been comparing every place you’ve ever fished to this one. The more you come here and remember the times before, the more you realize that this creek, as any good creek does, has had a hand in shaping not just how you fish but who you are.

The tail of the pool tucks into a deep riffle with a pocket just slightly deeper in the midst of the rushing water. Changing over to a popper you stand back on the bank and quarter a cast upstream of the calmer water . The instant the fly crosses the threshold of the deeper water it disappears in a flash of bronze and a spray of foam. When the steel digs into its jaw the fish makes a mad dash downstream and using the current against you manages to make it into the next pool with you trailing behind. The slower water plays to your advantage and after a few jumps your prize comes to hand. The red eye of a twelve inch smallmouth stares back at you, and maybe you’re imagining it but there is accusation in her eye. She’s questioning your worth, whether deserve to be here disturbing her domain. On any other creek she would be a good start to the day. A sign of better fish to come. Here she is the Queen. A verifiable trophy to be relished.

When it finally came time to leave your hometown your first worry wasn’t about jobs or any of the things a reasonable adult would care about. No, you were concerned that the distance to your main creek was going from 15 minutes to just under two hours. The move brought you much closer to more productive water, that held larger fish and probably are more objectively beautiful. Looking back on the year you still managed to somehow make the trek north to fish your creek more than any other. You realize that this is not at all reasonable. You also know love very rarely is.

There are three more good runs on this stretch of public land until the remains of an archaic railroad bridge marks the edge of the park. You fish them diligently and are rewarded with a few more bass. The pool that surrounds the pillars of the bridge is eerily deep compared the rest of the creek and has always seemed a fitting end to the journey. In the twenty something years you’ve fished here you’ve never crossed the invisible barrier that marks the fabled private land full of larger fish and easy wading. One day you’ll knock on doors and get permission and eventually this entire creek will be yours for the fishing. For today you’ll start the walk back up to the low water crossing content in the knowledge that as long as this place exists, you can go home again.

Winter Water Safety

Winter is a season of recovery and preparation.
-Paul Theroux 

(Authors note: this article is written with the casual paddler/angler in mind. Class I/Class II waters. If you are planning on whitewater paddling in the winter, here is a great google search for tips)

At the risk of ruining my own solitude, I am going to tell you this: Winter is a great time to be on the Ozarks Rivers and Streams. 
Just because the mercury drops doesn't have to mean you can't get out on the water. Late Fall, Winter, and early spring offer some superb opportunities to float, fish, and enjoy the abundant wildlife the Ozarks has to offer. And no crowds. 
With proper planning, a winter float down an Ozarks waterway can be one of the most memorable experiences of the year.

Plan ahead, and phone a friend.
Cold floats are best done on familiar waters. Know your route and the areas to avoid or portage. Don't take chances in water that may dump you. The key to warmth is dryness. And discretion is the better part of valor. 
It's also wise to float with a friend, or several of them. And always let someone else know where you are floating. Giving a wife, boy/girlfriend or a buddy your put in and take out points can reduce the time to locate you in the event of an emergency. 

Dress for success.
As I said, the key to warmth is dryness. Dress in layers starting with a thin, moisture wicking base and build from there. Avoid cotton at all costs. Cotton holds water and drys slowly. 
I wear a layer of Capilene from Patagonia as my base. Over that I wear a pair of Simms Fleece Bib wader pants. 
Simms G4 waders are my top layer. I float so I can fish, and having a good set of waders will make your day much more enjoyable. 
If you are not planning on wading, NRS makes a great pair of paddling pants and jacket.
Socks are always Smart Wool. For me they are the most comfortable and moisture wicking sock on the market. 
Footwear is often overlooked, but is an important part of your winter wardrobe. I wear Simms G3 boots fitted with the Hardbite Studs. What good is all of that warm gear if you end up on your arse because of slippery rock?
I always wear a wader belt as well. Besides adding a bit of support, a wader belt will keep water out in the event you go in over the top. 
Pack good rain gear. Our weather can turn on a dime. Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. 
Always, and I mean always, wear your PFD. 
Keep a change of clothes in a good dry bag. And keep an extra set in your recovery vehicle. 

Vinny and Bodhi-Consummate explorers 

Gear up!
Survival in the winter starts with being prepared. Dumping on a lake, while still dangerous, is not nearly as perilous as an unplanned entry 2 miles into a 6 mile float. 
Learn how to use and carry a throw rope bag. 
Carry a magnesium fire striker to start a warming fire. 
Own a quality PFD and WEAR IT.
Carry a good waterproof flashlight.
Pack a few hand warmers. They take up little space and can be a god-send when your hands are cold. 
Keep your primary paddle on a leash. 
Carry a spare paddle when possible. I carry half of a paddle under my seat just in case. 
Keep your phone, wallet and keys in a good, floating, dry box. 
Inspect your boat between use for cracks, seal rot etc. 
I plug all of the scuppers in my ATAK except the two under my seat. This keeps the cockpit dry, but will let water out if I do happen to ship some in. 
Carry a packable solar blanket. If you happen to get stranded, this and the magnesium striker could end up saving your life. 

Practice survival tactics. 
One of the first things I did after getting my kayak was to practice deep water reentry. Always practice this with your PFD on and fastened. 
There are several qualified white water survival classes in the Ozarks. Contact the guys at Ozark Mountain Trading Company for more info. 

Final thoughts.
Keep your self hydrated while on the water. Dehydration will accelerate hypothermia and fatigue.
Watch your pace. Don't plan a float you can't handle in one, short winter day. 
Take food. Protein and carbs will help keep your energy level up, and the risk of fatigue down. 
Enjoy the scenery. Winter is the cleansing season. With the leaves gone, you can see deeper into the verge, allowing for some incredible wildlife viewing. 

See you out there!

Get ready for winter River Bronze!

Men and fish are alike. They both get into trouble when they open their mouths. 
~Author Unknown

Winter; cold, snow, ice, Smallmouth? Youbetcha! 

Just because the mercury drops doesn't mean you have to drop the gear and wait until spring to chase our Ozarks rivers Smallies. With a little preparation and some good timing, winter can be a great time for pursuing the Bronze Warrior. 

Here are some tips and tactics I find useful. Enjoy!


Location, location, location
The dead of winter finds the River Smallmouth holed up in deep water haunts with access to three things: food, cover and current. 

Food provides energy
Cover provides protection and stealth
Current can provide both of the above and provides water with a higher O2 saturation
(especially in heavy riffle plunge pools). 

Illustration credit to In-Fisherman magazine 

Fortunately for the fish, river Crawdads look for the same things. And while they are much less active, 'Daddy's do not hibernate or go dormant. Baitfish also become less active and tend to pod up in similar water. 

The cover I seek out in winter is usually big rocks in deep water. Preferably with current close by. Woody cover in deep water will work as well. 

Remember, "deep" is a relative term for our Ozarks rivers. In a majority of the rivers I fish, during the lower flows of winter 10' is a deep hole. During our first trip in Jauary of this year, we were catching fish in 6-8' of water. Surface temp was 46 degrees. (Thanks Jackie Wright for turning on your Finder!)

Photo Credit to Smallmouth in Your Soup

Water temp plays a huge role in the daily life of a river Smallie. One benefit to winter is that it's not necessary to be there at sun-up. Winter fish do not have to feed all day, or for several days, as their metabolism is slowed to the point of almost being "off". 
In my opinion, the magic hours are from 10am until an hour or so before sunset. A little later on cloudy days, a bit earlier on sunny days.

I do prefer sunny days over clouds. One or two degrees in water temp change can really make a difference in your success rate. 

It's all in your delivery

Our Ozarks rivers get very clear between rains so presentation becomes just as important as what's being presented. 
Most of my winter fishing is from a kayak, ( if you're wondering, my Yak of choice is the  Wilderness Systems ATAK 120). 
I always approach a potential spot with as much stealth as possible. Try to skirt around the potential lie and approach it with a down-stream to up-stream presentation, if you are fishing soft plastics or the like.
My go-to in the winter is the Ned Rig. Much maligned, but IMHO, hands down the best river bait for Smallies. My preference is the ZMan Finesse TRD.
I fish three or four colors: Coppertruese, Molten Craw (pictured), Green Pumpkin and Orange/Green Pumpkin. I usually use a 1/16th oz Ned Hed from Solid Tackle.1/8th if I am in heavy or especially deep water. 
Line size is critical; I use 4 or 6lb Flocarbon most of the time. Most of my reels have P-Line FloroClear on them. I fish this on either a 6'6" or 7' medium action spinning rod from my buddy Reggie at All Around, and pair them with Ardent CForce 2000 or Bolt 2000 reels.

Molten Craw  Finesse TRD on a 1/8th oz Ned hed

 

Crankbaits are also a go-to in the winter. I fish 1.5's in OSA Craw, Fire Tiger, Blue Craw and Wiggle Warts in Chartreuse and Black, OSA Craw, and Red Craw. The key, in my opinion, is to get to depth and slow down. The more rocks I bump, the better I feel about winter crankbaitn'. And don't forget to pause repeatedly. Many times fish will tail a crank until it stops, and then whack it from behind. These strikes are very subtle, often just a slight bump or your line going slack. Long casts are key to maximizing the time your bait is in the strike zone. 

OSA Craw from 19 Delta baits

Jigs are hard to beat in the winter. I have become very fond of smaller jigs from my buddy Paul Preston and Rock Crawler. I fish 1/8 or 1/4oz jigs almost dead stick. Just crawl them along the bottom. I like Pauls jigs because I don't have to fish a trailer. Paul uses bucktail along the hook shank and they have great action. 
Strikes are usually subtle here as well; sometimes a bump, sometimes just extra weight...Swings are free, so set the hook on any anomaly. 

Rock Crawler!

Don't leave the long Rod at home!!!I approach the river from a different perspective with the fly rod, especially if I am fishing streamers deep on sink-tip. Up to down. I'll stop at the top of a run with deep water below and cast perpendicular to the bank, feeding line to gain depth, and allow the streamer to reach the desired spot. Then start the slow, jerk-jerk-pause retrieve. 
Go-to streamers include the Shuttlecock, SBS Streamer, and Clouser. Use colors to match the forage. All white, white/chartreuse and purple/pink are also productive. Not sure why the purple/pink color combo is so effective, but it continues to surprise me season after season.

Shuttlecock

 One of my favorite techniques is the FnF ( Float and Fly). It can be used with both gear and the flyrod, but I use it exclusively on the flyrod. 
The FnF is a hair jig or jig swimbait fished under a float. It has a popular following in the eastern US and is gaining popularity in the Ozarks. 
I fish 1/8th oz jigs under a float, trying to match the feeding depth of the fish. This is generally presented up-stream to down. Make sure to allow enough slack to let the jig float naturally..This can be particularly deadly after extended cold fronts. 

I choose to use a 9' 7wt rod lined up to 8wt. My go-to rod  is a Redington Predator. with a Lamson Speedster 3. My absolute favorite line is Sharkwave from SA. I rarely use a full sink line for streamers, opting instead for Rio's Versitip solution. 

Swimbait hair jigs

Always be prepared
Winter on the river is not for the faint of heart. Be ready for anything. Have a good PFD if you're in a Yak or other watercraft( oh, and WEAR it). Carry a good dry bag with a change of clothes, and always carry your rain gear ( me and 10 Rod Todd can attest to this). Carry fire making materials  (magnesium striker,water proof matches, etc) in case of an accidental spill. Always tell someone where you are going ( put in and take out ). Carry a good, FLOATING, dry box for your cell, keys and wallet. Make sure you have high-caloric snacks i.e. Clif Bars etc..
Stay hydrated and always, always keep a keen eye for possible hang-ups (we never know where that new strainer will will end up after a good rain). 

In conclusion
Winter on the river is a blessing. I rarely see another angler in late January, February and early March. What I do see is nature; eagles, otters, deer, beavers and the occasional hog-molly Bronzeback. Which is just fine by me....

Oscar, the Finley River brute..

Fall runs

Perhaps I should not have been a fisherman, he thought. But that was the thing that I was born for. —Earnest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea

As Fall settles in, I find myself reflecting on the rivers bounty from the year gone by. Not just this year, but all the years and all of the seasons given in 40+ years of fishing the Ozarks rivers. 

I'll try to help you conjure images of these places via words, but words alone will not do them justice. If you know where they are, then you've been with me on a trip, or you know the rivers I am describing well enough to decipher my personal colloquialisms. 

So, without further ado, here are some of my favorite runs.

The Miracle 1/2 Mile, James River, somewhere between Hootentown and Marble Grounds. 
Stay left at the rock wall. The current wants to pull you into the shallow gravel, but you know better. This run gets deep on the other side of the river, and if you allow her to pull you in, you'll get beached, or worse, run over the fish below. Dig. Hard. The sweet spot is far right, the one that will deposit you (almost) perfectly in the seam. Below the rapid, river left is cane and willow. River right is gravel flat and timber. Spin your boat and paddle up into the back eddy. If this were a battlefield, it would be the kill box. The riffle has dug a trench 300 yards long. One side is 18 inches deep, the other, three plus feet. It winds like a serpent, digging into the bank river left, until it flattens out and becomes more uniform. From start to finish, it's all kindred sized gravel, with sporadic depressions from the river's chaos carved out like shallow graves. At the end it turns hard right and will put you squarely in harms way if you are not attentive.
In each of the past 5 years we have managed at least one day on this run with multiple 18 inch fish. As recently as this summer, in early June, we caught a 19.5 inch, an 18 inch and a 17.5 inch fish from the first 200 yards of this run. And I with the remnants of a treble hook in my right forearm. That one required surgery and 5 well-earned stitches..

Rep Your Water

Alex Zwicky. USMC.

Stacked Rock run. CreekX. (and yes Lance, that's all I'm saying)

Alaskan Bush pilots call small, sunshine filled breaks in dense clouds "sucker holes". They look great and make you feel safe, until you fly through them and there is more dense cloud on the other side, with no escape. 

The hole above Stacked Rock fits this description perfectly. 

Deep, with good flow and full of structure, it looks like the perfect lair for a big smallmouth (or two). Until, after 30 fruitless minutes of fishing it, you look beyond the house-sized sycamore stump at the bottom and see Stacked Rock. 

I'm still not sure how Stacked Rock keeps as much water in it as it does. When you are in the pool looking upstream you see three narrow chutes of water that enter the long, languid pool that is Stacked Rock. None of these chutes are floatable in normal flows. The pool is a deep, lazy run with Volkswagen sized boulders strewn across the bottom. These rocks seem out of place in the karst landscape surrounding the creek. But brother, those rocks hold fish. Big ones. And more than a few of them. 

If you've played the morning right, you'll be in Stacked Rock by 9 am. Just in time for the last of the topwater bite. You drag your kayak across the left chute, get back in and shake the pea-sized gravel out of your shoes. Paddle up, slowly, and begin the symphony of cast, retrieve, repeat. You're the maestro in this concert and you know from experience that with proper cadence comes results.  There is a Jetta-sized rock right below the middle chute that always holds a good fish and if you are quiet, he (or most likely she) can be yours for a moment. 

The Gauntlet. Osage Fork, somewhere between Dry Knob and Davis Ford.

There are fish that haunt my dreams. Smallmouth that when I close my eyes, seem as big as fresh-run Atlantic salmon. 

One of these apparitions lives in the Osage Fork, about two miles below Dry Knob access. 

You enter the Gauntlet tentatively. Trees are strewn haphazardly across the creek. Like giant fingers, they reach out and try to grab your kayak, threatening to spill your possessions into the current while you watch, soaked, as they float into the abyss. 

You find the seam between the fallen Sycamore, Oak and Hickory stumps, turn your boat to face upstream, and begin working the slot. If you hit it right, you are on auto-pilot until the pool drains into the next run. Miss it and you are correcting more than fishing. 

Assuming you get it right, you are rewarded with fish on about every other cast. Most are chunky, 10-14 inch smallmouth that fight well beyond their size.  They seem to be custom-built for the river they haunt. Cast, retrieve, repeat. Then it happens. Your cast is good, the bait hits a sycamore stump softly, sliding off and into the depths. One, two, three. Bottom. But this "bottom" is swimming up stream. When you set the hook, you know; big smallmouth. Big smallies do not fight like their smaller brethren. Using their weight, they bore to the bottom and then head for cover. And this one is heading for the big strainer he was hiding in when you so rudely interrupted his meal. 

Side pressure, good gear and a lot of luck coax the fish into the small open space in the Gauntlet, and you are reaching for the folding net you are so proud of. You know, the one you found at the outlet store that was marked down 75 percent. Then you see the fish. Good god, that can't be a smallmouth? Holy shit. Keep calm, you've been here before. Unfold the net. Or at least try to. Damn thing is stuck. Shake it. Still stuck. That's a big fish. WHY WON'T THIS NET UNFOLD!!! Keep calm, he's at the kayak. You got this. The net unfolds and then..Collapses as you get under the giant, simultaneity knocking the fish loose. And he just swims away. Biggest smallmouth you've ever hooked and he's gone, like a dream you can't quite recall...

You look at your buddy, who is trying not to laugh, and send your bargain net sailing, tossing it into the deepest part of the run. Just like that beast of a fish you lost, it sinks out of sight, never to be seen again.

Osage Bronze

The Bridge Run, Finley River in Christian County, MO

The slab where I caught my first smallmouth has been replaced with a new, fancy high bridge. The remnants of the slab are resting in the same pool they provided passage over in years past. I'd like to think that the contractor was a fisherman and realized they would make incredible fish cover, but that would be a stretch. Still, they do hold some really big fish, and help anchor the creek bottom. Good intentions or coincidence? Doesn't matter.

This run is really two pools separated by a quarter-mile stretch of striated limestone we refer to as "bustyourassinite". In mid-summer, you have to walk the bank. This stuff gets so slick it's like walking on ice. 

The upper pool, with the bridge, almost has to be wade fished. Park your Kayak on the island and approach it carefully. It's gin-clear most of the time, and the good, cover producing current is on the far bank. Get below the bridge, cast up stream and expect a fish on every cast. It doesn't always work that way, but you've been here enough when it does that you aren't surprised when it happens. 

Until this spring, the second pool was 100 yards long and a nearly uniform in depth from bank to bank. The floods pushed mounds of gravel into the pool, shifting the channel river-left, and really decreasing the fish holding area you'd gotten used to. 

Six years ago I caught an eighteen inch smallmouth at the top of the pool. She had a gimpy pectoral fin and was missing several spines on her dorsal. Later that summer, I caught her again. The next spring, again. And in 2013, 2014, 2015 and 2016. Same fish. Same malformed pec. Same missing dorsal spines. The last time I held her, she was nineteen inches and change, still full of fight and closing in on four pounds. I briefly had her hooked this spring, on the Thursday before the skies let loose for a week, and the pool was forever altered. When I close my eyes, I can see her massive tail as it made one final attempt at freedom and snapped my line. 

After the flood waters receded, I took a walk to the pool and looked for Oscar. I've fished for her several times this year, all in vain. The romantic in me wants to believe she is still swimming, finding a still spot in the raging flood, waiting on Mother Nature to relent. My realistic view is that she is lost. I take consolation in the fact that at her size, she was most likely 12-15 years old and had many seasons to spread her good genetics in the river. Chances are I will tangle with her offspring many times in the coming years...

Oscar-2013

Oscar-2016

There are literally hundreds of good smallmouth runs in the Ozarks. We are truly blessed with a resource that continues to provide quality fish year in, year out. These four happen to be in my home waters range. I have a paternal instinct to watch over them. Like the fish that we chase, they need constant care and feeding to survive. 

See you out there.

Free. The. Fighter!

Good Enough

"If I fished only to capture fish, my fishing trips would have ended long ago." Zane Grey

The sun is just now fully in the sky as I’m standing in a city park staring out over one of my favorite Smallmouth creeks. Nicci and I were already rigged up and she was casting into the first hole as I stood on the bank checking my camera equipment and waiting for a friend to meet us there. We had never fished together before but thanks to the wonders of the modern era (and fishing groups on Facebook) it soon became apparent that between proximity and a shared interest in stomping through creeks and chasing finny creatures, it was an inevitability. He had found plenty of success chasing trout but had never landed a long-rod Bronzeback of his own. This, as they say, simply would not do. With all the arrangements made and proper flies purchased, all that was left was to actually catch a fish. As I listened to the birds chattering about whatever it is birds chatter about, (bugs probably? girl birds? Maybe neither. Probably both.) I was trying to concentrate on the relevant information I would need to convey to my friend to ensure he had the best chance of success. Instead I found myself thinking, as I have a bad habit of doing lately, about the circumstances that had led to me being a person people would even consider asking questions about Smallmouth Bass on the fly. I wondered if I, as a fishermen, was good enough.

I started fly fishing for Smallmouth almost accidentally. I had gotten a fly rod to chase trout as, in my eyes, it was the proper way to do such things. The only problem was, when it came time to actually learn how to use the damn thing, I found myself far too embarrassed in front of all the professional looking old men in their Gore-Tex waders and a million gadgets hanging off their vests to do any fishing. As I do with most problems to this day, I solved this by finding a creek and going fishing. In the muddy waters of northeastern Missouri I spent hours throwing the most hideous casts, untangling line, and pulling my flies out of every tree branch and bush within two mile radius. I caught a few fish but mostly I casted and casted and casted and casted. I knew that Smallmouth lived in these creeks, I’d caught them on gear, and that’s why I was here. Eventually I had gotten the basics down well enough to cast and retrieve a Clouser's Minnow or Woolly Bugger with what, I was proud to realize, resembled mild competence. Finally, I started catching Smallmouth and as my skills grew, (slowly) the fish came more often ( albeit still slowly). Over the next few years I spent more and more time in creeks and rivers I knew held Smallmouth and my spinning gear started to accumulate a fine sheen of dust. I devoured fly fishing media on the internet and my Facebook feed (and photo albums) were eventually taken over by fish. While I was getting south to chase trout as often as possible the vast majority of my time and skills were put into chasing Bronze. Before too long I had become the “fish guy” to my circle of friends, maybe a little weird and obsessed but nice enough.

I started dating a girl a few years back and after a few months I invited her to the annual trout fishing trip we took for my father’s birthday. This would be an important milestone for our relationship because as John Gierach once said “Creeps and idiots cannot conceal themselves for long on a fishing trip.” and in the same vein a bad relationship doesn’t survive cold nights in a tent, fishing at the break of dawn, and whiskey for lunch. She hadn’t fished since she was a kid and throughout the weekend I got to watch her light up as she caught trout after trout. I bought her a fly rod shortly after and (incorrectly) assumed that the best place for her to learn would be fishing for trout. The fire I had seen for fishing started to wane as tangles and collapsing casts mounted up.
Finally one day we were at a local pond together and I was harassing Bluegills on my new 3 wt. She eventually wandered over and asked to see the rod. I couldn’t have gotten it into her hands fast enough and within a few casts she was landing fish after fish. For the next few months we haunted that pond and she poured herself into that 3 weight. One day I came home from work and a tube shaped package from Cabelas was on the porch. She had ordered her own rod and before too long we were back on the trout streams and she was landing her first trout on the fly.
We spent the next few months splitting time between trout and panfish and she slowly developed an affinity for streamers and poppers when the revelation hit me. It was time for Smallies.
Earlier this year we were exploring a creek I had gotten the tip off for from a friend. The February sky hung heavy above us looking like it was ready to dump snow but the weather had been unseasonably warm for weeks. Cabin fever had driven us both out of the house and into some water. We worked our way down the creek, soon sinking into the rhythm of casting that occurs when you don’t expect to catch much but just enjoy the spectacle before you as the world takes its first stuttering steps out of winter. As almost always happens when you aren’t anticipating it, a sharp tug on my line snapped me out of my reverie and moments later a chunky ten inch Smallmouth was staring back at me. A few moments later I heard a shout from just upstream and looked up to see Nicci’s rod doubled over as she stood at the head of a pool. I sprinted through a riffle and by the time I got there she had landed an absolutely beautiful Smallie. All this year we have traveled around catching fish and she has caught more trout and Smallmouth than I can count, but I personally have never been more satisfied than I was seeing the look on her face as her first Bronze swam away on that grey February afternoon.

Talking about fishing is one of my favorite things to do. If I’m not fishing or working chances are pretty high I’m in one or more fishing related conversations through text, or on one of the fishing groups I frequent on Facebook. As I’ve made more and more friends throughout the far flung reaches of the internet, more and more people have reached out to me to talk about Smallmouth fishing, fly fishing, favorite spots or all of them combined. I’ve made some fantastic friends from the area and we have built a community between each other that has not only increased my fishing knowledge but helped me become more comfortable sharing what I know.

I wish I could tell you my friend Ross showed up that day and we caught dozens upon dozens of Smallies. I wish I could write about how 18 inchers were the norm that day and Ross left to get Small Jaw tattooed across his shoulder blades. The reality is that we had a decidedly average day of fishing and we spent most of it talking, catching Longears, and wondering what the bass were eating. He did catch his first Smallmouth that day and a few weeks later another new friend of mine managed his first Smallie on the fly with me under the towering bluffs of the Big Piney River. All told I’ve managed to help 3 people catch their first Smallmouths this year and I hope in the years to come I can help many more.  I’ll probably never be a guide or make a living exclusively from fishing. I simply don’t have the temperament, skill or patience for it. But if fishing a ton and writing about these amazing fish will help me make new friends and show them the wonders of fly fishing for Smallmouth Bass. Well hell man, that’s probably good enough.

Fall Smallmouth

Most of the world is covered by water. A fisherman's job is simple: Pick out the best parts.
-Charles Waterman

Acclaimed naturalist and author Edwin Way Teale once proclaimed  "For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together. For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad."

Our Ozarks river smallmouth fit somewhere in the middle of that statement. 

Ozarks Fall Bronze!

As the water cools, river smallmouth start feeding to get ready for the winter. Forage fish like stonerollers, shiners and chubs (or slicks as we call them) begin migrating out of small tributaries, feeding along main river edges. Crawfish activity declines and these baitfish become the primary target of the smallmouths intent. 


Smallmouth bass are opportunists. In the spring and summer, as water temps rise, they will feed on a wide variety of forage. Hellgrammites, Crayfish, Dragonfly nymphs, big Hex nymphs, baby ducks, you name it. I've seen them sipping big green drakes like trout. 
As fall approaches, falling water temps trigger the urge to feed. Protein. These fish are meat eaters by nature and as they sense the changing of the seasons, the urge to pack in the calories increases. 

I've seen it flip like a switch; one day in mid September I'm fishing plunge pools and deep runs and the next, always following a cold front, there are fish herding stonerollers and Ozark Minnows on the bank in 3 inches of water. 

That initial cold front is key to the fall migration. Too short and the frenzy subsides quickly. Too long and it will put the fish down until the weather stabilizes. The ideal scenario for me would be a mild cold snap, followed by the idealistic fall weather we all look forward to after the dog days of summer. But this is the Ozarks: if you don't like the weather, wait a minute, it'll change....

So what does it all mean?
Once fall is here to stay, I start concentrating my efforts on gravel flats and shallow water runs below or adjacent to riffles. Long stretches of thin water with gravel and cover are ideal spots to ambush or herd baitfish that have schooled up in the shallows. 
Water levels will also determine fish location (and density) in the Fall.
Our last two falls have been relatively dry, leaving our Ozarks waterways bony. More water means more surface area for the food chain to do it's thing, and dry years can be tough on the fish (and fisherman). Low water can also mean low DO (dissolved oxygen) levels in the frog water, so look for the areas near riffles. Don't make the mistake of passing up the skinny water at the edges, more than once I've been surprised by a pig smallie sitting in just enough water to cover his backside...
If you are lucky enough to fish the winter, you may know some winter holes where smallmouth hang, waiting for warmer days and the urge to feed again. Pay attention to those areas and target water adjacent them. Fish will return to the same winter haunts year after year, and knowing these spots can lead to some very productive fall days. 
In the illustration below, I point out some of my favorite fall spots on a typical river-run:

Tips and tactics
Two friends of mine, Max Turner and Jason Vermeiren, have opposite approaches to fall smallmouth on the long rod. 
I'm pretty sure Max was born with a Sneaky Pete in one hand and a glass fly rod in the other. Jason ties some absolutely gorgeous streamers. Both catch fish consistently. 

Fall fishing, for me, means meat. Baitfish patterns. Streamers, crankbaits, spybaits and topwater like the Whopper Plopper. 

If I am not guiding or fishing a tournament in the fall, the conventional gear stays home and I carry a flyrod. My box has 7 patterns and their various mutations loaded up at all times:
1. SBS Streamer
2. Two or three sculpin imitations ( Mohawk, Belly Scratcher, etc)
3. Low-Fat minnows in Bluegill and Longear
4. The Equalizer in natural baitfish colors
5. The Shuttlecock in two or three colors
6. Hi-Tie minnows in bright colors
7. Large terrestrial patterns like hoppers and cicadas. 
I am not gonna tell you I don't carry other patterns like the clouser or bigger articulated streamers like the Sex Dungeon, but these are patterns I have modified to fit the forage in our rivers and they are definitely confidence flies. 

I also carry a few different weights of sink tips, from intermediate to type 7. 

Fish streamers like you mean it. Cast to the edges and vary your retrieve until you find the cadence the fish want. Always finish the retrieve to the rod tip. I've had smallies rocket out of no where to smash my fly 5 feet from my boots.  
Don't overlook large terrestrial patterns like hoppers, big beetles and cicadas. They live near the river, and end up trapped in the meniscus at times, easy prey for a smallmouth. These strikes can be life changing...

When I bring the gear, I always have a couple of crankbait boxes with me. My absolute favorite crankbait is the 1.5 squarebill. I carry it in 4 or 5 colors. And Whopper Ploppers. Man, that bait is downright scary sometimes. I've had fish blow them 4 feet out of the water only to come back on the next cast and kill it. I mean CRUSH that bait. Mr Dahlberg is a genius...
Match your gear and line size to the water. I carry mostly spinning gear on smaller creeks, matched with 6lb fluorocarbon. I do carry a baitcaster if I am fishing the Plopper, and keep it spooled up with 12lb fluorocarbon.  

My Soapbox
Disclaimer: The views expressed in this section are validated by thousands of maniacal Smallmouth enthusiasts across the nation. Resistance is futile...
Long, hot summers can be tough on fish. Follow these guidelines and make sure we pass this resource on to the next generation.
1. Play the fish quickly
2. Handle them minimally
3. Keep em wet! (or at least get the pictures taken quickly!)
4. De-barb your hooks when you can

That's it.  Fall is my favorite time of the year. The weather. The scenery. And the fishing!

See you out there!