It's unusual to be fishing Quabbin Reservoir for smallmouth with Brad when these fish are settling into their summer offshore pattern. Both Brad and I prefer going after them during early prespawn, late April - early May. Due to the combination of the COVID-19 delayed opening and Brad's ongoing outboard problems, my second 2020 Q trip and Brad's first didn't happen until the fish were (mostly) deep.

 

Cruising out of Gate 43, I drove Brad to a favorite spot, a long ridge with deep water on one side. Lots of sandgrass, more than a few rocks, and a large number of beds that were vacated weeks ago are found here. 

 

"Brad, what are you gonna start with?"

 

"Topwater."

 

Me too although the sun was well over the treetops and the smallies surely wouldn't be on top of this flat in 8' of water.

 

"Brad, position us right on the edge, wouldya?" He was very good all day to put up with my back seat driving.

 

 

A 1/4 oz. popper caught this fish's attention at 7:30 and

 

 

this one at 7:40.

 

Meanwhile, Brad is also casting but distracted from his presentation by the remote control of the electric with which he was unfamiliar - it was on a boat he had borrowed so we could fish. Folks, let's have a round of applause for a bassmaster doing what he has to do.

 

 

This chunky smallie slurped up a Texas rigged Smallie Beaver dragged about 20' deep. This day's smallies performed some terrific aerobatics as well as slugging it out in the depths. I hope you've had the experience of fighting a "supercharged" smallmouth; that's the word that comes to mind when describing smallmouth behavior in 76º water.

 

 

Mid morning we headed out to the big water. Approaching my favorite rock pile, I asked Brad what he was going to throw.

 

"Topwater."

 

Now, The Book says you don't throw topwater when the sun is high on a summer day. I almost said to Brad, "Twenty bucks says you won't bring one up." Glad I didn't because my slender wallet would have gotten even thinner.

 

 

We worked the hump thoroughly then down a wind-swept shoreline. We moved right along with Brad trying a variety of baits. I was doing a lot of nothing with a Z-Man's Jerk ShadZ, trying to force feed it to the bass. I knew I was working it properly because The Master Snapper himself, Mike Briglia, coached me on soft jerkbait fishing one fine spring day in 2015 and I have done well with this technique since. And let's not even mention hair and hackle jigs reeled and paused or ripped off the bottom their feathers fluttering seductively . . . No.

 

Time on Quabbin is precious, especially this season, and I had been wasting it. I sat down, sipped luke warm coffee, and gave myself a talking-to. "We're working a windy, rocky, steep-breaking bank and the fish will respond to a . . . a . . . deep diving crank!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

The weather report had said, " possibility of occasional showers."

 

 

Brad said he enjoyed it. We needed rain.

 

 

Coach Belichick would agree that the DT10 was doing its job.

 

 

We moved on to investigate offshore flats, doing business on clearly defined drops. Precisely presented TRDs and wacky Senkos did the trick.

 

You may be wondering at this point why there are so many pics of this short, gray-bearded jamoke and so few of the tall, clean-shaven captain and guide. Two reasons: Bassmaster Brad was paying attention to the well-being of his netman and, like a few other exceptionally good fishermen, simply doesn't want to take the time for a photo op.

 

Toward the end of the afternoon, Brad deferred the choice of a last stop to me.

 

"Back to the ridge we started on. I know an end-of-the-day sweet spot in 22 1/2 feet of water. Been catching big ones off it for the past 27 years."

 

In position with the Spot Lock on, I cast the same bait that's worked for all those years and couldn't buy a bite. I was happy to serve as netman, however.

 

 

In order to get this picture, I had to threaten to take away his TRDs.

 

Informed of the time, Brad said his wife was going to be mad when he got home.

 

Tracey, if you're reading this post, I implore you to understand the psychodynamics of real fisherman:

 

The proclamation of "Last cast!" is merely acknowledgment that it's late in the day.

 

You see, leaving biting fish causes severe emotional distress to a real fisherman. It also causes lasting damage to the psyche.

 

 

I apologized to Brad for arriving at the ramp 14 minutes before the DCR says we have to be off the water.

 

 

What a great day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Good fishing with good friends makes for a great day.