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As the summer progresses, I find my adventures on the brown water seem to be more predictable. The weeds are very tall and choke much of the bank. I find myself paddling to those half dozen places where there is deep, weed-free water where the smallmouth prefer to stay. I throw out small perch-colored F3 Rapalas and hook into a few fish.
I feel like I am in a rut.
One night I saw a fly-fisherman working the shore opposite the dock. I went inside and grabbed my 4 weight. It was rigged with a floating line and some bedraggled, chartreuse pattern. In two casts I had hooked into a little bluegill.
The next day I decided to wet wade the river. I was flycasting some poppers. I had a few strikes, but not solid hits. Still, it was fun.
My daughter and family came for a visit. I went fishing with my son-in-law a lot. Instead of my early morning adventures, we went after dinner. I worked the weeds and hit into some bluegills.
At early evening we would fish from the dock with the grand-kids, fishing with Gulp baits and bobbers. I hadn't done any bobber fishing for over dozen years. It was fun.
A nice break from my pattern - though I still like chasing smallies with little Rapalas . . .
