On the hottest day of the year, nothing sounded better than to be wet-wading for smallies in one of the many local streams in the area. I chose to fish the South Branch of the Zumbro River which runs through Oxbow Park just north of Byron. I hit the water by 6 p.m. when the sun was down far enough to create some shade behind the trees that edged the stream. I started fishing a shallow pool using a 1/16 oz jig and my favorite plastic, the reaper. After just a few casts I picked up my first smallie. An eight incher that shook off just as I pulled his head out of the water. From that point I began my trek up stream.
Since I had the early success with the jig and reaper combo I had decided to stay with that until I lost my third jig to rock tangles and no more fish to show for my efforts. I had brought along three different Rapala minnows as an alternative lure. I had never caught a bronzeback using stick baits before, but I knew a couple of people that swore by them. Since these were shallow diving floaters I thought they would be the perfect change from the snag happy jigs.
As with my earlier start with the jig, it didn’t take long to connect with my first Rapala smallmouth. He was about 10 inches and scrappy. A good start for my Rapala run I thought. I made a few more casts into the riffles before I started walking a stretch of quiet water which is usually barren of fish. My intended goal was a pool just above small rapids about a quarter mile upstream. From there I would turn around and make my way back to the car.
As I mentioned earlier, because of the high sun I stayed tucked in tight to the shaded edge and alternately casting across the stream or straight up stream within the shaded area. It was a cast into the shadows that produced my next catch. Just after the lure hit the water and I began to reel in the slack I felt this weight pull against the line. I started to reel in faster and made a quick set of the hook but I must have pulled the lure out of the bronzies mouth. Thinking I had just missed a heavy fish I continued my retrieve when I felt the weight once again on the line. This time I made a better hook set and the fun was on! Fighting against my light action rod and 6 lb test line this pig of a fish first took off for the middle of the stream. Realizing that he couldn’t get there he circled around and made a swirl on top of the water showing me his muscular back. Next he decided to make a run down stream. Not wanting to have him break me off I started to back reel some line while he worked to gain release.
I didn’t want to play him too long so I worked me over to where I could lip him, get a measurement and let him go. Having not landed a fish with a stick bait loaded with hooks in his mouth, I mentally reminded myself to be very careful of the hooks. I wasn’t positive, but relatively certain that I had previously pinched all the barbs on the hooks being I am strictly a catch and release guy. It was a good thing too. With one shake of his tail, Mr Smallie managed to “slide” one hook along the side of my thumbnail between the nail and the skin about an 1/8 of an inch deep. Now what was I to do? My good hand was now holding my largest smallmouth bass ever, (about 19 inches), while being attached to the very same stick bait as the fish.
The first thing I managed to do was cut the line above the bait. There really was no sense in having this bait pulled from both ends while I attempted my own quick release. Next I managed to release the bass from the bait, but still holding on to him with my left hand while I tried to figure some way to measure his length. I had managed to come fishing with suntan lotion, bug repellent and a tape measurer. I’m guessing the heat of the day must have bake something important in my head but I’ll be darned if I can figure out what it might be.
Anyway, I ended up holding the fish up against the bottom of my short pants and making a visual mark for later measurement. Once that was done there was nothing left to do but let my fish go. I would have given him a kiss too but as I mentioned, I was not thinking clearly last night. Now, what to do about this Rapala that was stuck to my thumb? First I grabbed my hemostat out of my wading pack and clamped it to the hook so that I had more leverage (and some distance from the rest of the hooks). I made a couple of vain attempts to pull the hook straight up. Next was to angle it or twist it. With the hook plainly still in my thumb I began to wonder about the process of wading back to the car and driving until I found someone that could help me. This was a very unappealing idea as there was still plenty of good fishing light left in the sky. Taking another crack at self-help, I grasped the hemostat and managed to “slide” the hook out along the thumbnail just as it had gone in. Excellent Dude! Upon determining that there was no severe blood loss in progress, I rinsed my thumb in the stream, retied my lure and headed on toward my pre-determined goal.
My fourth and last bass came at the eddy of the small rapids I had trekked to. It was the hardest hitting fish of the four. He really caught me by surprised as he must have swooped in from the side. As happens so often, the hardest hit came from the smallest fish of the day, a six inch smallie.
I made a few more casts on my way back to the car, but I knew that I was done for this day. I had hooked up with the biggest smallmouth bass of my life and I was so thankful that most people just don’t get out and wade the local streams. During the evening of the hottest day so far this year I was by myself enjoying the cool water, the wide variety of birds and of course some very exciting fishing.
Glad you got the hook out!
