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Change Of Pace


Al Agnew

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The Meramec is the closest good winter fishing river to where I live, so from October to March, most of my fishing is done somewhere on the Meramec, from a jetboat. But this hasn't been the best cold water fishing year so far on the Meramec. It's low, and more importantly, it's extremely clear. Running a jetboat can result in a major pucker factor in some of the riffles, and fishing in water that clear is usually pretty tough.

The other problem with the Meramec for me is that it's at least an hour and a half away from home. Sometimes I just don't feel like driving quite that far. Especially on days like today, when, because of things that had to get done around the house, I wasn't going to get on the road until at least 10 AM. So where to go? Was there anywhere that could produce some cold season fish that had water a little less clear?

I won't name the place I decided upon, though it's a little closer than the Meramec (well, an hour away). It's a stretch of river that I've run my jetboat on a few times, but right now I figured it to be too low to run, which meant taking the solo canoe. No chance of a shuttle for a float trip, so that meant I'd be paddling up river and fishing back down.

When I got to the access, there was already a vehicle parked, with a boat trailer. Surely they weren't running it with a jetboat. A little closer look at the trailer told me it appeared to be more likely a canoe carrier. So now what to do? Head upstream, hoping whoever it was had gone downstream to the next access? Go to a different access?

I decided to take the chance and paddle upstream, but I had no more than gone around the first bend when I saw the guy in a canoe up ahead. Not wanting to fish his used water, nor to paddle past him and fish ahead of him, I turned and headed downstream.

From this access, I've always paddled upstream in this situation. I knew several possible wintering pools upstream. Although I'd floated downstream many times in warm weather, it had been several years since I'd been on that stretch. I remembered a few deep pools that could be winter spots, but I wasn't sure how many I'd find. Well, it would be an adventure.

The weather was cloudy and cool, with almost no wind. Conventional winter fishing wisdom is that sunny days are better, but sometimes a cloudy day can be good when the water is clear and not TOO cold. The river's clarity was about 5-6 feet, a lot better than the 10-12 feet I'd been seeing on the Meramec. Still, I wasn't expecting too much, because this river had never been a consistent cold water fishery.

Right across from the boat ramp, there's a couple of fairly deep eddies along the bank. Since I was fishing my way downstream rather than paddling, I decided they were worth a try. The second cast with a jerkbait...before it had even gotten down more than a couple of feet, a nice largemouth took it positively. I lipped the 16 incher, and thought, hey, this could be okay. At least I wasn't skunked. No more fish came in the eddies, so I paddled through a riffle and a stretch of flat, shallow water, and reached a rocky bluff pool. It wasn't particularly deep, but maybe deep enough. I missed a swirling take on the jerkbait that looked like a good fish, and then caught three small smallmouth. Things were looking pretty good.

Paddling through the next stretch of riffle water, I saw a jutting rock outcrop ahead that I remembered sheltering a deep backwater that had once been a short, deep, swirling pool. But when I got to it, I found that the river had changed and filled in much of the formerly deep water. Still, there was a small pocket of very slow water around a big boulder, and it produced a small spotted bass and a flash from another fish.

Below there, I thought I remembered a good possible wintering pool beneath a big bluff. I also remembered that the upper half of it was a little shallow, and so it was, with a fairly significant current swirling around the rocks. I fished it half-heartedly, looking forward to the deeper, slower lower end, studded with big boulders, that I remembered. But then I noticed a big root wad and log on the opposite bank, in a spot where there was also a deeper pocket along that bank. The current there was a little slower, and I thought it just might hold a fish or two. The first cast with the jerkbait, to the upper end of the rootwad, produced nothing. The second cast tucked in behind the rootwad, and I let the slow current carry the Pointer along the length of the log below as I twitched it occasionally. Then I saw the flash of a big, bronze side, and set the hook into a heavy fish. The big smallmouth tried it's best to dive back under the log, but I kept it out even as it pulled the canoe toward the log. Finally it drove for the middle of the river, pulling the canoe back around, but now I knew I had it as long as the hooked didn't pull out. They didn't, and I finally lipped it. Across the paddle blade, with its closed mouth up against the tip of the blade, its tail exactly touched the 20 inch mark I'd finally gotten around to putting on the paddle. Now the day was definitely a success!post-218-0-92836900-1354849751_thumb.jpg

When I reached the lower part of the pool, it was as good looking as I'd remembered. But the deep, rocky water produced only two more small smallies, and a decent 14 incher. There was only a short riffle between there and the next pool. The river had swung a bit away from the bluff, so that pool was not rocky, but it had some depth. The deeper side was very slow current with a few scattered logs, and it produced nothing for about halfway down, where it started to shallow. I'd been looking at the other side, which had some depth, more current, and more logs. So I decided it might be worth paddling back up a bit a fishing it. I almost stopped my upstream paddle at a big log in reasonably slow water, but there was one more log upstream in somewhat faster water. Hey, the big one I'd just caught was in water no slower and no deeper than that log, so I opted to go on up and fish it. I'm glad I did, because it produced a 17 incher.post-218-0-44639800-1354850138_thumb.jpg

That was the only fish for that pool. I drifted on downstream, trying to remember how far to the next good pool. It turned out to be a long way. I remembered a short rocky stretch that turned into a deep pool beneath a high clay bank, but it had shallowed in considerably. I kept paddling, hitting a few spots that looked barely like possibilities, with no luck. Then I heard a motor coming upstream, and here came a guy in a big River Pro inboard jet. I was pretty surprised, because I'd been studying the riffles, and there were some I wouldn't have been comfortable running in my jetboat. He went on by, heading upstream, and I continued downstream, wondering if he had been fishing the water I was coming to. I'd finally remembered a big, deep pool that should be about the best wintering pool in this stretch. The sun was trying to peep through the clouds, and it was getting pretty low. I didn't have much time left to fish if I was going to paddle three miles or so back upstream before dark, but I wanted to make it to that pool.

It was as good as I thought it would be...except I caught only one little smallie and had two more fish half-heartedly swipe at the jerkbait. Either the jetboat guy HAD fished it, or I wasn't as good at judging wintering pools as I thought I was. By the time I got to the lower end, the light was definitely getting lower. I put down the rod, put down my paddle, and put together the two piece double blade. I had a long, hard paddle back upriver, including dragging the canoe through a dozen or so riffles. I only stopped to take this one picture:post-218-0-01816500-1354850769_thumb.jpg A flock of turkeys flew across the river in front of me, and then I saw some kind of critter up ahead, nosing along the water's edge. It was a gray fox, a pretty cool sighting along the river. An eagle flew downstream, saw me, and turned back upstream.

I reached the access a little before dark, noticing that the vehicle I'd seen when I put in was still there. As I took off my waist high waders at my vehicle before backing it down the ramp to load up, the guy appeared. I asked him if he'd done any good, and he said he'd been skunked.

It was interesting in that I couldn't get anything to take a jig, and most of the fish that hit the jerkbait came up to take it before it went down too deep. Apparently the cloudiness and the slight color to the water made them feel comfortable feeding in what would pass for shallow water this time of year.

All in all, it was a very nice day of fishing. Not many fish, but any day you can catch a 20 and a 17 is more than worthwhile.

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Wow, huge fish.....some day I will buy you a couple of drinks and drag the location out of you!

"Honor is a man's gift to himself" Rob Roy McGregor

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Great report. Yes, these four walls are killing me too. This is the SAD time of year, time out of doors is necessary for good health.

His father touches the Claw in spite of Kevin's warnings and breaks two legs just as a thunderstorm tears the house apart. Kevin runs away with the Claw. He becomes captain of the Greasy Bastard, a small ship carrying rubber goods between England and Burma. Michael Palin, Terry Jones, 1974

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Great report. Yes, these four walls are killing me too. This is the SAD time of year, time out of doors is necessary for good health.

So for good health we need to go out, I owe you a trip for paddling my but down the river

"Honor is a man's gift to himself" Rob Roy McGregor

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