In a region primarily renowned for its lobster, blueberries, and, at one point, Atlantic salmon, the freshwater fisheries often take a back seat in people’s minds. Yet, many fly fishermen traveling to Grand Lake Stream in spring for salmon overlook the exceptional smallmouth bass fishing in multiple lakes and rivers along the way.

I had the pleasure of guiding two gentlemen from Louisiana, Kevin and Neil. Despite their experience with catching plenty of largemouth bass down south, neither had ever hooked a smallmouth bass. I led them to a river in Downeast Maine, once famed for its Atlantic salmon run. Kevin opted for fly fishing, while Neil stuck to a spin rod.

Right from the start, we began landing smaller bass along with some chub and pickerel, which were new catches for them both. As we progressed downriver, the size of the fish increased. I had Kevin alternating between a game changer and some hair poppers he had tied specifically for this trip.

Midway through our float, I anchored us to target a particular hole. Neil, using a small pin’s minnow, made three casts and landed three smallmouth, each around 14-16 inches. While I was releasing the third fish, I heard Kevin exclaim from the bow, “I’m on!” Looking up, I saw another 16” smallie thrashing in the air, trying to dislodge the game changer lodged in its mouth corner. After a few more leaps, we managed to net the fish, Kevin’s largest catch of the day so far.

We pulled into a weedy area targeting pickerel, but naturally ended up catching largemouth bass. After that, I wanted to try one more spot before heading back. As we approached, I had Kevin cast one of his hair poppers right next to the bank. On the third strip, the popper vanished. Kevin set the hook, and the rod bent as a 20”+ smallmouth leaped out of the water! After about a two-minute fight, I netted the fish. Although we didn’t measure it, my estimate was around 21 inches. As we watched the fish swim away, we all agreed that it was the perfect catch to end on with the takeout in sight.

As I loaded up my truck to head home, Kevin approached me with his fly box full of poppers. “I’ll leave the one that’s already tied on,” he said, “but pick one more.” I chose a green and white Dahlberg Diver, which I still have and use to this day, ensuring I only fish it when there’s plenty of casting room.

By Zach Peirce