The Smallmouth Trip of a Lifetime (Part 1)

I have a recurring dream, that I experience about twice a year. Its never exactly the same, but it goes something like this:

I find myself in a mysterious river wandering the banks. I come upon a spot, and as I look down into the water I realize there are absolute monster smallmouth everywhere swimming around. The water is crystal clear, and I can see several fish that are as big, or bigger than my PB. The dream turns into more of a nightmare when I realize that I do not have any sort of fishing equipment to catch them on. This is usually the end of the dream, and I wake up the next morning with this deep feeling of unsatisfaction.

The last time I had that dream was about a year or so ago, and my theory as to why I don’t have it anymore is a pretty simple one: It happened to me in real life this past spring. The only difference was that I was fully equipped to take advantage of those fish I could see.

This is the story of a trip so ridiculous, so insane (from a fishing standpoint), that most fisherman who have any concept of what is realistic probably write it off as extreme exaggeration, or most likely, complete bullshit. The thing is that I don’t blame them. If someone had told me the story of a trip like this one, I would have probably called them out on the spot. Here’s the thing about the story I am going to tell. It is 100% true, but words do not do it justice. For a guy like me who lives and breathes smallmouth fishing, it was a moment in my life that I will never forget. It’s one of those moments that makes you smile randomly in the middle of a day. I still can’t believe that I was lucky enough to experience it.

About a decade ago, a small group of us guys started an annual spring smallmouth trip. Other than Chris and me, the group has changed from year to year as our lives got in the way. We have traveled all over the midwest in search of premier river smallmouth destinations each and every spring. One destination in particular had been on our short list for quite awhile; the Upper Mississippi River. For different reasons, this location has eluded us over the years. Some years it was flooded, some it didn’t work logistically, but we had sort of made a pact that we would go there in 2020 unless it was impossible…and it almost was. Although the river was in prime condition, COVID threatened the execution of our trip like it threatened so many things this past year. I’ll spare readers the drama, and just say that it ended up working out. As you will find out in this story, in order for it to play out the way it did, the stars had to align, and this was just the first one that had to fall into place.

Fast forward to a few weeks before our trip, and the planning phase was in full effect. If there is one thing I know I am better than 99.9% of the population, it is planning a river smallmouth trip. Chris and I were both frantically contacting all of our connections in that area getting the latest intel. We scoured through social media paying attention to all of the guides up in that area and the quality of fish they were posting. To be honest, from my recollection, we were not seeing much positive signs. Although the river looked to be in good shape, the amount of quality fish that we were seeing come out of that area was far and few between. At this point we had committed to this destination, so it was up to fate to determine if it would be a dud or a stud. Let me tell you, we all owe Fortuna a favor or two.

As the trip approached all the planning slowed down a bit, and severe anticipation set in. We had a couple of guys who were on the fence with going, but with lots of poking and prodding, we convinced our entire core group to make the trip. Our group text thread leading up to that trip was nothing but pictures of ridiculous looking mustaches (we grow them out for the trip each year) and memes that would make our wives blush. The hype was real, and we were all foaming at the mouth to head up North.

The day finally arrived, and we “worked” a half day and all met up at my house. We snapped a few pictures of our freshly manicured mustaches, and hit the road for a 12 hour drive.

This year we had decided to rent a house instead of camping (yeah, yeah, we’re getting soft), but had decided to start the trip off with a stretch of river that was sort of on our way. We arrived at the put-in in the middle of the night and tried to get a couple hours of shut eye. We couldn’t help but drive the trucks over to the ramp and shine our headlights across the river to try and get an idea what we were going to be fishing for the next few days. Of course we weren’t able to see anything, but if you’ve ever been as excited for a trip as we were you get it.

As the sun rose on the mighty Mississippi River, it was apparent we were in a land much different from our native Indiana. We were in the true North Woods with all of its glory. Pine trees dotted the river banks, and the air was clean and crisp. We launched our boats and completed our shuttle, dropping one of our cars off at the end of our float.

The first day was definitely the most forgettable out of our entire trip, but by normal standards it was well above average. At this point we were still trying to figure out what the fish were doing, but it didn’t take very long before we heard some hooting and hollering echo across the river. In the first hour we had 2 guys catch 3 fish back to back to back over 18 inches. This was the first sign that the trip might be something special. This was a shorter float, and ended with 10 fish or so over 18”. It was a solid start, but as we loaded up the boats and headed for our cabin, we had no idea what was in store for us the following day.

Day 2

Full of youthful enthusiasm we got to the put-in and were trying to get on the water as fast as possible. As we were waiting at the ramp, the one and only bass fisherman we saw the entire trip pulled up at the access (he happened to have sick jet boat). I don’t remember the guys name, but to tease what is to come, we will call him Angel. For surely that day an Angel visited us from the heavens above and parted on us a holy gift. I shall not get into the details of this gift, but to say that he gave us a spot. A spot that turned out to be the spot of all spots. Some might call it a Sanctuary. Either way, I dream of it often.

We would not visit the Sanctuary that day because we already had the float planned out, but this stretch was no slouch. In fact, it turns out that this would be one of the best fishing days of our entire lives up until that point. We started the day fishing pre-spawn patterns, but it was tough. The wind was fierce, and although we were connecting on some fish, it was a grind.

It wasn’t until lunchtime that our fortunes changed. We all agreed to meet at a mid-river island to enjoy some delicious sandwiches that were provided by my brother. We all arrived and docked our kayaks along the bank. We found some driftwood to act as our picnic table, and sat around discussing what the fish were doing (or not doing) so far. The fly boys thought they had a pattern on topwater, but honestly, none of us were feeling that great about the day as a whole. The domino that fell next changed the entire trip.

One of us had noticed a smallmouth hanging out on the inside of the island close to the bank. It wasn’t a huge smallmouth by any means, and probably only measured 16 inches or so. We had a birds eye view to this fish, and upon further inspection, it was sitting on a bed. In a move to impress, I decided to show the guys that I could catch this fish. I ran over to my boat and tied on a wacky rigged Senko. I carefully dropped the Senko into the middle of the bed, and it didn’t take long before that fish came over and picked up my lure. With one fell swoop I set the hook and brought this fish to hand. While the fish was not impressive, I think it got everyone fired up. It wasn’t long after that until everyone was scrambling to their boats trying to duplicate what I had just done. Just as I was getting back into my boat I heard a high pitched Whoop from someone in the group. I docked my kayak to find out what had happened. As I walked over towards the opposite side of the island I could tell someone caught a fish. It wasn’t just any fish though. Andrew had scored the first 20” of our trip. This fish was a beastly specimen, and went a solid 20.5”.

It was at this point that it clicked for me. Andrew had caught this fish just a few yards away from the one I had pulled off of the bed a few minutes earlier. I knew exactly what was going on, and it was a mad dash to find the next one. It. Was. On.

I immediately followed a flowing finger that cut through the middle of the island. I figured that this would be prime territory for bedding fish, as it was a very protected area. It wasn’t but about 10 min later that I found a nice one. Tucked under a log lining the bank was the outline of a feathered out bed. I could just make out the movement of a female smallmouth sitting inside the log. Ironically, this was one of the tougher bed locations that I would encounter the entire rest of the trip. I had my Senko still tied on and pitched it into the hole that this fish had created for it’s bed. I immediately got hammered. The fish took me under the log and snapped me right off. My heart was pounding, as I rushed to re-tie. This fish wouldn’t hit again right? Wrong. I observed the fish go right back to its bed, and I pitched my lure in there again. Immediately I felt a thump, and set the hook. This time I was able to pry the fish over the top of the log and it proceeded to take me for a ride. My drag stripped like a Yellowfin Tuna was on the other line. This fish was pissed off. After a great fight I brought it to hand, snapped a selfie, and released it back in the water as quickly as possible. This fish measured 19.5”, and turned out to be many around that size for the group. Somehow I didn’t break 20” on this day, but other than that, it was almost the perfect day.

Another fond memory of that day was seeing Derek and my brother catch double 19’s as we were about finished with the float. It was a cool moment, and one they won’t soon forget.

This particular stretch had a really nice cluster of islands throughout the majority of the stretch, which is where the fish were bedding up. The entire group spent the rest of the afternoon slaying. There were multiple double ups, and smiles all around. I don’t know the exact stats for the day, but they were ridiculous. I believe we had something like 40 fish over 18” with probably half of those over 19 with one over 20 incher. It was insane.

As we pulled up to the takeout we were all telling stories of the fish we had caught that day. I think everyone was convinced this was peak smallmouth fishing. What we didn’t know, and no one could have predicted, was that we would make this day look like child’s play just two days later.

To be continued….