Fly Fisherman Throwback: Snake River Smallmouth

Editor's note: Flyfisherman.com will periodically be posting articles written and published before the Internet, from the Fly Fisherman magazine print archives. The wit and wisdom from legendary fly-fishing writers like Ernest Schwiebert, Gary LaFontaine, Lefty Kreh, Robert Traver, Dave Whitlock, Al Caucci & Bob Nastasi, Vince Marinaro, Doug Swisher & Carl Richards, Nick Lyons, and many more deserve a second life. These articles are reprinted here exactly as published in their day and may contain information, philosophies, or language that reveals a different time and age. This should be used for historical purposes only.

This article originally appeared in the Late Season 1977 issue of Fly Fisherman magazine. Click here for a PDF of the print version of "Snake River Smallmouth."

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The bass had been off their feed. Cantankerous to the core, they refused almost all of my offerings. For two days I had been dredging up a few bass with weighted Muddlers and "leaded" leaders by creeping that drab deceiver along the bedrock bottom and through the craggy crevices in the slack-water eddies below the riffles. A few smallmouths, enraged by the bot­tom-crawling Muddler, snapped at it and were hooked. But by and large, I had left more flies garnishing the subaqueous ledges than I had brought smallmouths to net.

Late one afternoon, however, as the sun began to flare over the edge of the towering canyon rim, throwing ghostly stars and halos into every highlight, the bass came alive. They left their rocky retreats in deep water and began chasing minnows in the shallow riffles and runs. I first noticed the change when a two-pound bass darted near my leg while I stood in a riffle and fished the pool below. That bass startled me out of my waders, but I quickly realized a feeding spree was on. I knew enough from previous experiences to remove my high-density fly line and substitute a sinking-tip floater. I put on a #6 Black Marabou Streamer and flipped it out into the riffle. The wispy marabou began to pulsate as the current grabbed the fly. I had a smashing strike, but leaned back too hard - conditioned to setting the hook on deep fish that seemed to have a toehold in the rocks. This free­ swimming bass, a big one, smashed the tippet with ease.

I tied on another marabou and flipped it out into the same spot. I had another hit, and this time I merely tightened up with the line hand and let the fish hook itself. A blazing run ensued, and the smallmouth, like an enraged steelhead, streaked away to mid-river. All I could do was hang on and hope the tackle would hold as that bass turned every way but loose. He was the meanest, toughest customer I had ever run into. Line peeled off the reel, but I held in there, pumping the rod and cranking precious line back onto the spool. That bass would just tear line off again, and I would lose every­ thing I had just won. There's no way you can manhandle a big, angry, riffle-rampaging smallmouth.

The Snake River at Lewiston, Idaho, and 80 miles upstream is a lovely stretch of clear water where a man can explore at length for smallmouth bass. Fish of five to eight pounds are taken there; three­ to four-pounders are common. The water in August and September is shallow and wadable–ideal for fly-fishing. The smallmouths here (or elsewhere, for that matter) are hot fish on a fly rod, probably the hottest. Pound for pound, they can outrun a bonefish, out-jump a rainbow and outlast even that pugnacious puller, the jack crevalle. For his size, the river smallmouth is the toughest, meanest and gamest fish I have ever hooked on a fly. I have had three-pounders clean my spool; four-pounders pop a heavy 9/5 tippet at the strike.

The easiest way to get to the bass water on the Snake is via US 12 to Lewiston, Idaho, or Clarkston, Washington. I like to go to Clarkston, then drive south up the Snake, passing through the quaint town of Asotin, to the mouth of the Grande Ronde River. There are about 30 miles of public water next to the road; watch out though, the last 12 miles are a dirt road–rough, narrow and winding. At the junction of the Ronde there is a free public campground, a boat-launching area, and Heller's Bar resort where you can get supplies, guides and use of a dock. On one trip we hired a jet boat at Heller's to haul us, our gear and a rubber raft upstream to the mouth of the Salmon River. Then we floated back down, bouncing the little raft through some monstrous rapids, but also finding lots of lovely pools where we caught plenty of smallmouth.  The float takes two days if you fish fairly carefully. Novice boaters should hire a guide.

A 7½- or 8-foot graphite fly rod is just about ideal for these Snake River bass. Such a rod has plenty of power for occasional long casts, yet is still light enough to be comfortable during long days of casting. I like a three-inch single-action reel with three interchangeable spools–for high-density, sinking-tip and weight­ forward floating lines. The leader should be 6 to 8 feet and tapered to about 1X. The best flies are the conventional Muddler and the White Marabou Muddler, Black Marabou Streamer and a few cork bugs and hairwing dry flies for surface fishing.

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