I followed the signs from town up into the watershed towards the boat landing. I crossed the river on that antiquated steel truss bridge that was still in service and found a riverside pull-off with restrooms, a picnic area, a campsite and access to the river. It was a very nice late-summer/early autumn day, blessed with a deep blue sky and a moderately cool breeze.
The fishing rod that I had kept in my car all summer had come in handy many times, yet this was to be one of its most exceptional performances.
Today I was fishing an ancient watershed along the Cumberland Mountains in east Tennessee called the Obed. The river occupies a mesmerizing canyon within the plateau’s and ridges of the region’s topography, and has the distinction of being designated as a National Scenic Wilderness by the National Park Service. One reason that makes the Obed special is that it is free-flowing; it remains largely in its natural state and is unimpeded by upstream damns or impoundments.
Without really knowing what I might be in for, fishing on a river like this, the Obed seemed to be of sufficient flow to support a decent fishery. In fact, some streams in central and eastern Tennessee can support native trout populations, yet the observable characteristics about this river didn’t really speak of trout. There were rough shoals, fast water, and the smooth stones one expects at most trout streams, yet the siltation of the water and its warmer temperature suggested that it probably did not support them. If the river was healthy though, one could expect to find a variety of other species of fish that are known to inhabit the streams, rivers and lakes of east Tennessee including the smallmouth bass.
A hearty species that can sport impressive bronze coloration and stripes along their face, the smallmouth favors colder, more natural environs than its cousin, the largemouth, and is generally regarded as more of a “wild” fish by comparison. According to size, they may not grow as large as the largemouth, yet they are a more exciting fish to catch for their stubbornness at the end of a line and their preference for wilder environs.
To be sure, smallmouth can grow to exceptional size in ideal conditions, and there are some people who fish exclusively for the smallmouth.
How to catch one here? I thought. On a day like this, it seemed that they were more likely to be sitting down in deeper water, at the bottom of some of these pools, and were probably best fished for in these circumstances with a deep diving crankbait, which, unfortunately, I was without. I had some lead-head jigs and plastic worms that could probably to the trick, but I was not sure. To catch these kinds of fish, you need something with excitement; something that will entice them to bite.
I decided on a compromise rig as I intended to do some exploring upstream and search for a good spot. A lightweight jig assembled with a plastic grub and a spinner, which is known as a “beetle spin” can be a very productive outfit in many types of circumstances; it can swim through currents, around rocks and and ply the depths as well, and can entice almost any of the types of fish to respond.
The weather, as I had said earlier, was as bracing and brilliant a day as I had seen in a a long time. The trees were turning to their autumn colors, and the sky was a deep brilliant blue. I had a few snack packs of crackers, a Gatorade, some water and a few packs of cigarettes with a lighter in my backpack. I was wearing a lightweight collared fishing shirt, that would dry easily, some North Face swimming trunks and some “Keen” river shoes that proved quite useful for trodding the banks.
I donned my sunglasses, locked up the car, and trudged down to the river. I waded across the stream and began my journey upstream in the shallows on the other side. I began fishing the river as I would a trout stream, seeking to induce a strike in all the usual spots, downstream from a pool, around rocks and through the eddies.
Whenever I fish alongside a river, I test my instincts for the presence of snakes. Someday’s one can simply feel that the weather might be conducive to their activity, and today seemed to be “potentially” snakey, reason being that it had probably rained several days earlier, it was somewhat warm and humid. This was late summer though, and “snakey” days like this usually happen earlier in the Spring. Luckily the day ended without a sighting, which always suits me just fine.
Not too long into this routine, a juvenile smallmouth fell for my beetle spin outfit and I got my first glimpse of a fish inhabiting this stream. He was bronze colored and feisty at the end of the lure as I held him up and then released him. It’s always a good sign to find some fish activity such as this when you are looking for bigger fish, but I knew it would probably take something else to reel in a big one.
The fishing yielded a few small sized bream, as I worked my way upstream to a long drawn out stretch of water that was relatively calm and with some depth. I fished the tailings of the pool across some stretches that looked promising, but to no avail.
Not far ahead a boulder, almost the size of a small house, sat along the side of the stream, and I picked this spot to enjoy some snacks and to take a swim. Up the canyon I could hear a train rumbling through the hills, which offered a kind of haunting therapy to the pristine setting. The river itself kind of mimics the movement of the train; it is likewise consistent and inexorable in its procession.
I also took this time to try and put together a few arrangements from my tackle box that I might use to fish the bottom of the creek bed. To me, some of these seemed promising, but I also gained the notion that I might be overly hopeful. A plastic nightcrawler with a beetle spin might work as a jig presentation if the fish were biting, but for some reason didn’t seem too promising today. While, as I said earlier, I didn’t have any deep diving crankbaits, I did have one of the most tried and tested lures for stream fishing, a shallow diving Rapala minnow. I suppose that I had wanted to see what, if anything, would work in this stream before playing my ace (fishing works like that sometimes).
Also among my arsenal I had a fairly antique, but still reliable lure called a jitterbug, so named because it jitters back and forth across the top of the water as it is retrieved.
I fished the jitterbug some from the rock, just to get the hang of it, then tied up with the rapala and kept moving upstream to see what was up ahead, around the bend.
As it turns out, there was a fairly good shoal that below created what was a fairly good fishing spot. The water circulated back upstream on the left side of the bank in a wide eddy. I fished the beetle spin here and caught several bream and a redeye, a kind of panfish that inhabits these kinds of streams alongside bream and the smallmouth.
I noticed a rock wall along the boulders and a few other good spots on the other side and started to think about how to get there. As the stream was fairly concentrated here, it could be somewhat difficult.
There seemed, however, to be a fairly shallow section where I could trudge out to the middle and fish the remaining spots. I tied on the Rapala minnow, left my pack on the bank and walked out.
While the flow of the river seemed to have been replenished by some recent rains, it was still fairly low and did not present great danger to a wader. I got out to the middle of the shoal, stood behind the rock and fished the boulders. After a few casts there was nothing so far, yet I spied an excellent looking eddy line upstream below the foam.
I made a perfect cast up into the shoal and delicately retrieved the rapala enough to maintain its swimming pattern yet not to spook the fish.
Wham! Looks like we’ve got a customer! No panfish or redeye this time. A nice, healthy looking bass now running amok across the current at the end of my line. The fish was a fairly good size fo the stream which I was fishing. From 1 ½ to 2 pounds. Perhaps owing to the season or time of day, the fish didn’t quite fight as hard as I had remembered of the smallmouth, but of course I was excited to land the fish and get a good look up close.
I waded across the stream, rod in hand, and finally climed up on some boulders where I could bring the fish in. I landed the fish in the shallows and used a pair of hemostats to extract the hook. The scales and color of the fish were of like a rich bronze hue sparkling in the sunlight. The face was covered with the smallmouth’s “tribal mask” of wild stripes, it eyes staring out in bewilderment. It was a really nice fish, and by my reckoning, a fairly good size for the waters I was fishing. As this was really one of the best strokes of luck I felt I’d had in a while, I was exhilarated. I actually kissed the fish on the back of the scales before turning it loose into the current. I’d seen Bill Dance kiss largemouth before turning them loose, though never thought I’d be that goofy myself, but of course, there I was.
Immensely satisfied, I thought I’d try my luck in the depths of the pool on the way back, but still no luck.
While I had managed to catch one good-sized fish, I surmised that to do really well on this stream was to be here at the right time. I marched back downstream, casting at a few places, as I went but not catching very much. The day was mellowing down some and the air beside the river was nice and pleasant with the warmth of the stones and the cool breeze mixing together next to the rushing water.
I made it back to the car and sat down at the campsite and had some cigarettes while I thought about what to do. I had a notion that the fishing might be good below the steel bridge I’d crossed just down the way. With the late afternoon setting in , if there was any good fishing to be had there, this would be a good time to try.
As there was a parking lot over there by the bridge that provided river access, I drove my car over there, got out and scoped out the scene. There was lots of deep water here and it looks like this place serves as a popular swimming hole. I tied on the Rapala and went up and fished some of the moving water above the deep water pool.
Bringing in the Rapala on a hasty downstream retrieve, I felt a jerk and all of the sudden I saw a fish airborn above the water. It had just nicked my Rapala, and the lure, for that split second, was floating, suspended in the air in front of him! It was also a good size fish. He spat the lure out, yet it occurred to me that I might be at the right place at the right time to catch some fish at this spot. He really caught some air!
I fished the Rapala some more and finally started hooking into some fish. I was catching good sized smallmouth not unlike the one I’d caught upstream.
After a while, it seemed that the presentation with this lure was wearing off and I decided to switch up and try the jitterbug. I never knew of anybody fishing a jitterbug over moving water. Mostly it seems to be used on flat water when the fish are hitting on the surface. Here, however, it did the trick. With the jitterbug running across the top of the current, the fish were taking it non stop. It was virtually the perfect pattern for that time.
It is not too often that I really find such a “meeting” of fish, but the bite was certainly on. Even in the dark. I was pulling the jitterbug across the surface and still finding them. Of course, the light then got far too low and the fishing slowed down, so I decided to hang it up. There’s lots of time to think, at times like these. I felt lucky to have happened upon my discovery at the time. “Never look a gift horse in the mouth,” as the saying once said. Comes to mind, thinking, as I left.