Mille Lacs Smallmouth

Our baseball season –I coach and he plays– came to an end on Tuesday night with an 8-7 loss. With some new time on our hands, my son Jonathan and I decided to catch up on some of the things we have been missing, fishing and family.

We headed to Mille Lacs to chase some bass Wednesday morning. Not really caring what species, largemouth or smallmouth, I just wanted to spend some quality time with my boy. To take some lyrics from Trace Adkins, Just Fishing.

We unloaded the boat on the South end and ran into a light breeze from the North. We headed out to one of my early season locations to see if we could find some cruising smallies on a small off-shore reef. When we got close, I stopped to boat to rig rods with 3.5 inch tubes and 1/8 ounce Northland insider jigs. I slid up slowly on our reef; we found a mother lode of cruising smallmouth. Seeing these fish swimming in the clear water, Jon looked at me and I laugh as his eyes are wide and filled with excitement. He fired a cast to the top of the reef and hooks up instantly. Jon snaps his wrist for a respectable hookset and a blockbuster fight between a 20 inch smallie and a 10 year old boy was on…

That 20 inch smallmouth was the only fish we caught on that reef.

Lure change after lure change, color change after color change, still no takers. With frustration and wind speed increasing, I decided to head north to calmer water. I explain to Jon that it is smarter and safer to trailer the boat up around the lake than to beat the boat and ourselves by driving it through the waves.

The time it took driving around to the West side gave me time to think about what we were doing wrong with our presentation. And then it hit me like a bass striking a topwater buzzbait, those fish were up on that reef not eating crayfish, they were chasing baitfish. Shiners, to be more precise.

After unloading and getting check by the DNR, I changed most of our rods to X Raps, original Rapalas and 3 inch Slider paddletails rigged on 3/32 ounce mushroom jigs. We headed to a rocky shoreline to see if we can find a school of sumo smallies. I drop in the trolling motor and skirt the first breakline where the depth changes sharply from 3 feet to 8 feet. I told Jon to cast his jig and paddletail up to the top of the reef, count to 4 and slowly reel. The moment that the lure fluttered across the drop off, it got annihilated. A quick hookset and another larger-than-life battle ensues.

Rod bending, drag screaming, kid laughing, and a tailwalking, airborne smallie, now were talking my kind of fishing.

After a short mêlée, Jon gets control and glides a trophy bass into the landing net.

A 22 inch smallmouth admits defeat, momentarily.

A few pictures and a swift release and she swims unhurriedly away.

Staying on this reef for over an hour, we cast and we cast, catching fish after fish. A few times Jon stops fishing to select some songs of my IPod and turns up the volume on the stereo. One sure gets a few funny looks from other boats in the area as my son is singing the Billy Currinton, People are Crazy song, but for some reason he only sings one line at the top of his lungs, Beer is Good. Sporadically, I sneak a peek over my shoulder to catch him dancing on the back deck. Yep he thinks we’re “Just Fishin’”.

Jon is starting to get impatient. He wants to do something else and I can tell. I ask him what he wants to do, even though I already know the answer. See Jon has one true fishing obsession — Topwater Froggin. He loves to cast and watch his bait slither over the top of the water, waiting for the detonation of fish, lure and water. Adrenaline junky or anticipation at its finest, your choice.

I know a great reed bed surrounded by deep cabbage right around the point. As he slowly drives the boat to the spot, I assemble a couple rods with buzzbaits and Stanley Ribbit Hot Feet rigged on Owner Beast 4/0, 1/8 ounce hooks. I was hoping to get Jon into some of Mille Lacs trophy largemouth. Nope. First cast with a buzzbait, his temptation gets hammered, another smallmouth. Then my frog gets blasted by a smallmouth. A few more fish and Jon looks tired, hungry and slightly sun burnt. Time to go.

Instead of heading to our home, I surprise Jon with a trip to grandpa’s house located just North of Brainerd.

Thursday morning, three generations head out to fish a small puddle of a lake that holds some serious size smallmouth and massive crappies. We fished for a few hours and both dads could tell that Jon wanted to go and do something else. So we loaded the boat and headed back to the house I grew up in but not before Jon landed a few more topwater bass.

Every so often we forget that life is not a race. Take, no, make some time to go, Just Fishing.

Ron Bukovich