Down A Lazy River

June is almost half gone by and the new summer is settling in. The sun gets a little stronger every day, the afternoons more humid and the nights warm and still. Every year about this time, my thoughts begin to turn from the trout that have occupied them for the past few months and back towards one of my favorite angling pastimes back home in the rolling hills of Northwest Pennsylvania, float fishing from a canoe down a large creek or small river in search of smallmouth bass.

While I am by nature a mostly solitary angler, float fishing is custom made for sharing with a fishing buddy. One of you gets to sit in the bow and have first crack as the new pools and holding areas come into range. And the other maneuvers the canoe as you go; threading it through the rock gardens and using his paddle to pry it off the rocks and shoals and keeping it moving ever downstream. And then you switch positions and start all over. Very democratic.

Along the way, you pass the swimming kids and wading anglers clustered near the bridges and other access points. And then they’re behind you and ahead lays a piece of river where there is no one else but you, your buddy, the fish and the river hurrying along. No houses, no roads, no beer cans. The paths along the river banks grow fainter and eventually disappear. There is an anticipation that builds inside you, a feeling that you are entering a place where none have been before and are about to cast over fish that have never seen a fly or lure. Of course, it isn’t really true. But it feels that way. And in today’s crowded and bustling world where solitude is at an ever growing premium, the feeling is enough.

And when the bass are there and willing, all the better. While there are exceptions, these generally aren’t large fish. We’ve floated six, eight, ten miles of river in a single day and never caught a bass over 13”. But what they lack in size, they more than make up in attitude and pugnacity. They stop the fly in the lee of an instream boulder and catapult for the sky, angry and indignant at having been fooled. They bow the rod, run hard for cover and then leap again. You wear them down and eventually bring them to hand. They glare at you with eyes of red fire, unbowed and only beaten for the moment, their flanks of burnished olive/copper dripping and glistening in the light. You turn the hook out of their jaw and slide them back into the flow. On a good day on a good river, this is a scene that can repeat itself 50, 60 and even occasionally, 100 times or more.

And then, usually just about the time you begin to conclude that a canoe seat is not quite as comfortable a place to sit all day as what you had originally thought, your pullout point comes into view around the next bend. A few more casts and then you set the rod aside and paddle over to shore to step out and stretch on wobbly legs and begin the unloading. Time to go home. And suddenly, you don’t remember the canoe seat being that uncomfortable at all. It gets down inside you and takes root, this float fishing. You’ll be back, and soon.

I’ve float fished dozens of Pennsylvania’s larger streams and smaller rivers for smallmouth bass. Some with my brother and others with my brother-in-law. And occasionally, with somebody I’ve only met once before, usually the winner of a day’s float trip I would donate as a raffle prize to this or that TU or other club banquet. I’ll grab any excuse I can find to get on the water. It’s all good. From the high clay-banked pools and murky riffles of Northwest Pennsylvania’s French Creek to the sparkling, boulder-strewn runs of the Clarion River to the tight confines of upper Conneaut Creek and the clear waters of Pennsylvania’s Pine Creek Gorge, the fine scenery and the feisty bass provide an unbeatable combination.

Soon, I’ll leave the tight, serpentine trout streams of the Upper Midwest behind for a bit and head on home to Pennsylvania for a few days of float fishing for bass with my brother-in-law. We’ll ride the water, spook the wood ducks off the river in the morning mist and watch them circle and land behind us and we’ll catch a few bass and leave the hurried world behind.

It’s all good..