I had been planning this overnight for several months and it was finally happening, I could not believe it. Tim Mahar and I had agreed that the weather and time of year was perfect to attempt our overnight trip on a tributary of the Big River. It is not a big stream, but one that holds plenty of big smallies and I intended on catching a few.

My partner and I, my nephew Bryan, arranged to meet Tim and his son Brendan early on Saturday morning at the only outfitter that services this stream. After shuttling and loading down our canoes with enough gear for an entire week on the water, we shoved off. We headed down stream with high hopes of tangling with one of the legendary smallies that this creek is known to relinquish every once in a while. Bryan and Brendan chatted back and forth on our hand held walkie-talkies using such "trucker terms" such as 10 – 4 good buddy and what is your 10 – 20? I wish I could be 12 years old again. It warmed my heart to know that these two boys are learning at a young age about smallmouth fishing and the conservation that is associated with it. Over the next 36 hours they would share many new experiences that they would not soon forget.

At the first quality riffle, Bryan and I caught several nice smallies. It was his first of the season and certainly was not going to be his last. I used the first riffle as a classroom, showing Bryan where and how to catch smallies using Chompers. There is a distinct difference between a "bump" from a rock and a "bump" from a fish, which Bryan was slowly starting to understand. Soon we decided that we had caught all the fish that were going to bite in that riffle and we moved on. Bryan continued throwing his new found favorite bait at any and all available cover he could see.

By the time we had stopped for a shore lunch with Tim and Brendan, everyone had caught their share of smallies and a few goggle-eye to boot. The weather was perfect; partly cloudy with a slight breeze every once in a while to cool things off. Both of the boys decided to take a dip before lunch to cool down and enjoy the crystal clear water.

The afternoon held much of the same routine as the morning – come to a riffle, get out of the canoe, fish the riffle, catch several smallies, pull the canoe through the riffle and continue on down stream. We worked as a team to utilize our time on the water. Bryan and I alternated riffles, as he fished the riffle I pulled the canoe through and vice-versa at the next riffle. This pattern was producing some great results and Bryan was getting a great work out pulling a 17-foot canoe, loaded down with gear, through the riffles; I knew he was going to sleep well that night.

As the sun was starting to fall lower in the sky, I introduced Bryan to one of my all time favorite smallmouth baits, the fluke. The fluke is nothing more than a soft jerkbait, but when fished correctly, it becomes a magical, amazing imitation of a baitfish that smallmouth hit like a torpedo smashing into the side of an aircraft carrier. It did not take Bryan long to decide that this was his new favorite bait.

Around 5:00 p.m. we caught up with Tim and Brendan on a nice gravel bar where they had set up camp for the night. We proceeded to do the same. After dinner and a refreshing dip in the creek, we settled down around the coziness of the campfire. We ate s’mores and reminisced about the day’s activities. It did not take long before the boys were ready for some shut-eye. But not me, I had other plans.

I was not about to pass up a perfect opportunity to do a little night fishing. I have never fished for smallmouth bass at night; I had no idea what to expect. A little birdie once told me to fish a black jitterbug instead of a buzzbait or popper. His reason was that the constant, slow cadence of the jitterbug allows a smallmouth to track and hone in on the bait. What a great piece of advice that was. I proceeded to catch fifteen smallies in an hour and a half, with 6 nice sized goggle-eye thrown in for good measure. You do the math. That is one fish every four and a half minutes. That is incredible action in my book. Finally, I turned in around 12:30.The stars shining bright, the breeze was whistling through the trees and my sleeping bag was calling my name. What a great day.

Daybreak came and I was the first to rise. I dressed for the day, grabbed a quick bite to eat and started walking the bank. There is nothing like the sound of a smallmouth exploding on a surface plug before the sun breaks the horizon. I caught several smallies before the other three surfaced and started rustling about the campsite. We ate some breakfast, broke camp and loaded the canoes for another terrific day on the water. Both Bryan and Brendan shared the anticipation of what lay ahead.

It did not take long to pick up where we had left off the day before, catching smallmouth bass. We quickly fell into the same routine of pulling the canoe through the riffle while the other fished it. This really seemed to work well for Bryan and I. He was able to watch and learn as I talked to him while I was fishing. He would then apply this information in the next riffle – it was like a smallmouth bass fishing instructional school on the water. In one particular riffle, Bryan threw his Chomper to all the obvious water that he thought might hold a smallmouth. He caught one. I proceeded to follow behind him and point out the less obvious places – behind this log, in front of that root wade, behind the boulder over there. I caught two of the largest smallies of the trip in that riffle. I saw the light turn on in Bryan’s head and I knew that things were starting to "click" for him.

At noon, we heard from Tim and Brendan that they were going to stop fishing and start paddling towards the take out. Tim had to be off the water before 2:00. At that point Bryan and I started fishing more thoroughly. Realizing that not having to keep up with our counterparts would allow us to slow down and catch some additional fish that we may have normally passed by. I watched in awe as Bryan started working the water like a seasoned veteran. He subscribed to my theory of Chompers in the moving water and flukes everywhere else. That seemed to be the pattern for the weekend. He really started catching some nice smallies and lots of them.

By the time we reached our take out, it was late afternoon and I did not want to get off the water. After all, it was prime time smallmouth bass fishing time. But I knew that is was time to go. We had had a long weekend and still had a long drive home. Reluctantly, we loaded the gear into my truck, strapped the canoe on top, and took a quick dip in the creek to clean the sweat and sun screen off before we climbed into the truck for the trip home. I could tell by the look in Bryan’s eyes that he did not want to leave, he did not want to return to the city and most of all, he did not want to quit catching smallmouth bass.

It was a great trip home. After we stopped for some "real food" from McDonald’s, Bryan perked up. We started reminiscing about the weekend. I just sat back and listened to this young boy relive every detail of every fish he caught the entire weekend. It was awesome. To hear how he remembered everything and for him to tell it, you would think you were there because of the energy and enthusiasm with which he told the story. It did not take long before exhaustion overcame Bryan and he was fast asleep, all the while smiling from ear to ear.

I can look back on my childhood and remember similar outings with my grandfather. I am forever grateful that someone took the time to take me fishing as a young boy. I wish I could be twelve years old again. I hope Bryan will remember this weekend forever – I know I will.