SMBHooker

As I walked the trail that lead me to the river’s edge my feet crackled atop newly fallen leaves. The light debris of nature’s confetti was hinting at the coming fall. When the path opened up to my destination I saw that the river was cloaked in a thin veil of gray misty vapor that was slowly lifting from its surface. I entered the river with dawn breaking through the wooded backdrop of the stream. The cool early morning air that condensed in front of me after each breath did so in stark contrast...

7-31-10 Report 1st Buzzbait bite . . . loved it!!

Banded with bars of black on bronze the smallmouth bass is patterned perfectly with colors designed to escape the eye. The silhouette of his shape is easily obscured by the contrast of refracted light on the dark traces of layered rock bed that make up the surrounding river bottom. In this environment each broken rock formation is matted in shady leathered spots of olive brown moss. Here he blends into this underwater background...

I was balancing in the river standing still, with focus like a heron. My hand was the only motion visibly stirring as I slowly spun the handle of my reel. The crankbait was diving just above the bottom of the river and the only tension I felt was the rhythmic pulse of the river rushing over the lure.

The summer day had reached its zenith hours ago but, the coming evening was yet held off as the sun still shone through the clouds illuminating the russet clear river water below me....

I had two large Smallmouth fight me to my legs earlier only to watch them rebound back into the river without landing them. The water clarity was clear enough today that I could see the hefty Smallies perfectly as they broke free of my crankbait. Disappointment is to light a word for how I felt after losing both fish within minutes of each other. Although it was hot out my thirst was not for water. It was for not losing another fish to the river again.

I had moved down river now...

We moved out from underneath the protection of the raised trunk door hanging over our heads as the brief shower storm lost its intensity. The rain only added to the thick humidity that had already blanketed the evening air. When we pushed off the bank entering the water in an aged aluminum canoe, the surface of the lake was still rippling with dots of departing rain.

The first cast made with a homemade chartreuse and white spinner bait thumped heavily underneath the surface. Immediately...