Something Different

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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 . . .