Simcoe Opener 2016

Even though I've been lucky enough to go bass fishing a few times this year, the opener on Lake Simcoe still has a special feel to it. With thoughts of my trip to the Thousand Islands fresh in my mind, I wake up bright and early. It's my third straight day on the water. And I'm just as focused now, on Saturday, as I was on the first day. But my true reward comes on Sunday.

The "true reward"

The first morning on Simcoe starts with a drop-shot tied on my spinning rod, spooled with eight pound braid and a long eight pound fluorocarbon leader. I'm fishing in shallow water at first - anywhere from two to five feet. Quickly, I realize the drop-shot is too loud when it hits the water. Searching for a more subtle presentation, I put on a weighted-wacky rig. But that's also too heavy. So I go with a classic: a pumpkin and green flake senko (with no weight). Soft entry and a slow fall. It takes me no more than five minutes to adapt.

Fish #1

The decision pays off a few moments later. I see what appears to be an empty bed but still I cast in that direction. Turns out there was a good fish sitting there, protecting its bed or waiting for some food to come its way. I struggle to land it on my own - one hand on the rod, the other on the net. But eventually I get it done. A great start to the day.

Fish #2

Not long after that, I land my second fish of the morning. Not quite as big as the first one, and not nearly as big as the monsters we were catching in the Thousand Islands, but a quality smallmouth nonetheless. My confidence is sky high.

Fish #3

A few paddles later, I see a decent-sized fish following a big one - at least as big as the first one I caught. The polarized sunglasses are helping big time. I throw down my senko, which is promptly annihilated. It's a good hook set, but I have trouble getting the fish in the net. I'm worried about horsing it in too much because of my relatively light line. But I wish I had tried. Eventually, the fish jumps for a third time and throws the hook. I yell in frustration.

Fish #4

I try hiding it but I'm pissed off. If I was in a boat or with someone, I'd have landed that fish. Even though I'm upset, I keep fishing. It's the only way to regain that confidence. I catch a few smaller ones. But then I see something which refuels my positive focus.

Fish #5

I swear it must be eight pounds. Maybe ten. It makes the five pounders we caught the day before look tiny. I've never seen a smallmouth so big. It looks like the freshwater drum or carp that you might mistake for a bass for a second. But there aren't any drum or carp here. I cast towards it with my senko but it swims away. It's not sitting on a bed - it's cruising the shallows looking for something. Something bigger than my senko. I call it a day an hour before noon. Time to regroup.

Fish #6: the "true reward"

The next morning, I paddle into some deeper water in search of bigger fish. It means less time fishing and more time looking. Eventually I see one sitting on a bed. A good one. An opportunity for redemption. I cast and I cast and I cast my senko but she's not interested. Just then, I remember a conversation I had with Dave, who was fishing out of another boat in the Thousand Islands. To get at finicky fish, he let his bait sit (dead-stick) right on the beds. I try the same. My worm sits there for a few seconds before the fish inhales it.

Another picture of fish #6

Patiently, I play the fish. I tell her to stay down and she obliges. No jumps and no thrown hooks. Just satisfaction, and a big smile on my face, hidden behind my new buff.

Fish #7

Then the wind picks-up. I use it as my trolling motor as I work my way north along the shoreline. Given the conditions, and having seen a few huge fish just cruising around, I turn to a spinnerbait. Once again, my thinking is correct: a decent sized smallmouth, my seventh picture worthy fish of the weekend, absolutely crushes my lure. The trailer hook in this case is superfluous. I couldn't have lost that fish had I tried.

The weekend ends with my arms sore after battling the wind and chasing schools of five pounders on some shallow shoals. I try to fish for a bit in the afternoon but my body is too tired and gives up. The mind is willing but the flesh is weak. Too much sun, too little sleep, and too much paddling. But it's all worth it. No, I don't end up catching the monster that's etched into my memory. But now I know she's there. And next year, I will catch her.

Greg Cholkan is a lawyer, fisherman and Hemingway impersonator. He works in Huntsville with Barriston LLP and his practice focuses on real estate, wills and estates, and business matters. Follow him on Instagram and Twitter.

*Normally I wouldn't stop at 11AM on the opener but there were some more important matters to tend to that day!

Share this post