Species No 1 for this year’s Georgia Bass Slam was a Bartrams bass.
This afternoon I caught my first fish of this year that will qualify toward the Georgia Bass Slam: a 10 1/2-inch Bartrams bass. Of course, I caught it Fishing on Foot.
Last year I set a goal on New Year’s Day to achieve the Slam — all Fishing on Foot and on public land. The minimum number of species for achieving the Georgia Bass Slam is five, and I ended up catching seven in 2025.
I hadn’t stated that goal this year, and I still might not plan fishing trips around Slam needs as much this time around. I probably knew I’d end up seeking it, though, and I am pretty excited to have one species notched.
The Bartrams is admittedly among the easiest for me. I pursue them and catch some pretty much every year without any thought of the Bass Slam. It’s still fun to get this year’s effort underway.
Looking at all species caught — not just Georgia Bass Slam qualifying fish, today’s Bartrams bass was species seven for me, and a redbreast sunfish was number eight. I’ve actually caught largemouth, smallmouth and spotted bass this years, but they came from Alabama and Tennessee, so I still need all of those for the Slam.
Remembering my first topwater bass from around 50 years ago. Of course, I was Fishing on Foot at the time!
My first topwater bass occurred while I was Fishing on Foot. And like a lot of young fishermen in the 70s, I caught it on a Hula Popper.
Specifically, it was a smallish black Hula Popper, similar to the one in the photo. I don’t still have that one (unfortunately), but Hula Poppers haven’t changed much in the past 50 years, and it was new at the time, so it probably looked a lot like that one.
My family took part at a campout with our church at the Fort Wilderness Campground, which is part of DisneyWorld, and were in a rented camper. A creek with pond-like sections winds through the campground. Upon arrival the evening before, I’d scouted a section behind the camp store that had a nice open bank.
I arose from sleeplessness the moment my mom told me I could get up, which was right at daylight. I had been awaiting her word because I’d already gotten up once when I was certain it was looking lighter through the camper window. She had heard me, pointed out that it was 2 a.m., and told me she would let me know when I could go.
I’m not sure I slept any that night.
The moment I got word I could go, I popped up, fully dressed and ready, and grabbed my tackle box and my rod, which was by the camper door and already rigged with a Hula Popper. I followed the campground road to the store and scurried down the water’s edge.
I recall the surface being completely slick with just a bit of fog hanging over it, but I don’t know for certain that I haven’t romanticized that part in my mind over the years.
The first catch, which came on my first cast, went the way it would have been scripted. I cast out, waited for the rings to spread — just like the package instructions said — and then snapped my wrist to make the lure pop. Immediately a bass attacked, and I set the hook.
I don’t recall if there was much fight. I just remember I successfully landed it. I think it weighed about 3 pounds. No photos, of course, and no scale. But thats my best guess.
I don’t think I caught any other fish that morning. If I did, they were far less memorable. That one was more than enough, though, and was easily the highlight of the camping trip.
Typically when I don’t catch any fish, I have a solid guess as to why they didn’t bite— which might just mean I’m good at making excuses.
Today was different. I fished a couple of hours without a bite and really don’t know why. Everything seemed right. I just didn’t see any sign of the fish.
This week was warm for February, following an unusually cold snap. Each day has been warmer than the one before, and it didn’t even get cold overnight last night.
The water was clear, but not too clear, and a very good level. No one else was fishing, so I can’t claim the fish had been beaten up, and I had my choice of spots.
Time wasn’t an issue either. I had a set of lure photos I needed for work, which I accomplished, but adding fish to the equation would have added significant value. So I worked the area thoroughly, and would have stayed longer had then fish given me reason to.
And while I don’t have a ton of experience where I was fishing and don’t really know how it fishes through the seasons, I’ve enjoyed good days there, and the habitat definitely is good.
Like I said, no excuses. The simple truth is that the fish won today.
Waking up to a modest rain that had been falling a few hours and was forecast to gradually lessen, I couldn’t resist a quick creek outing.
I figured rainfall and continued cloudiness might make the brown trout a bit more active. More importantly, it was likely to lessen the number of other anglers at a popular creek I had wanted to visit.
Both were true, although in retrospect I wish I had mentally committed to a plan the night prior, gathered stuff at that time and gotten out the door before daylight. When I recognized conditions seemed right and started readying myself is when I really should have been out there in order to take advantage of the best bite window and enjoy a greater opportunity to fish with less company.
I did catch fish, and there were only a few cars when I arrived. The rain had already dropped back to a drizzle, though, and would soon taper off. As raindrops lessened, other anglers began arriving. I ended up making it a fairly short outing.
Creek Solitude
Mountain creek rainbow trout
Some fishing is social in nature, and the sense of community can even add value, from my perspective. Coastal piers, marina docks, surf zones during gamefish runs and some popular ice fishing spots have that quality. It’s a shared quest, and as long as there is space to set up and fish, having other anglers around can add to the experience.
That’s seldom (maybe never) my mindset with trout fishing. Excepting the company of friends I might go with any given day, I prefer solitude when I’m wading a trout stream.
I do fish popular stream sections by choice for the same reasons they are popular — easy access to good trout-catching opportunities. I do so despite other anglers, though, and do my best to choose the less popular times. I’ll also gladly walk farther to access less crowded sections.
In part it’s the total experience aspect. One of my favorite things about trout is the beauty of the places they live — and I like to at least pretend I’m a bit away from things when I’m wading a mountain stream.
It’s also a matter of how I prefer to fish. I’m a pretty mobile trout fisherman. I tend to stay on the go and explore a section of stream, more so than claiming a spot and continuing to work it. And when I keep turning bends only to find someone else, it just isn’t as fun for me.
So when that occurred the other day, I decided to head for the house. Well, that was the intent anyway. I did make one more brief stop at a less popular spot on the way home and added one more trout!
I suppose you could say I have a tolerate/hate relationship with waders.
As I trudged to the car with cold, wet feet from leaking waders, I thought about how much I dislike waders.
Don’t get me wrong, the poor maintenance and the pair I’d chosen to tote along that day were my own doing, and I really couldn’t have waded a mountain river on New Year’s morning without waders of some sort. Even when they keep completely dry, I simply don’t like the extra bulk and weight waders add or having to worry about stepping too deep.
Some people really don’t like getting pants, shoes and socks wet, and they wear waders year-round if they think they even might be stepping into the water. They reasonably like to just peel off the wet layer at day’s end and be fully dry. Some also seem to like fully gearing up to fish. Rocking waders, boots, staff, net and a vest loaded with gizmos and flies or lures just goes with stream fishing.
I’m the opposite. I’ll wear waders for true winter stream fishing or wading a big, cold tailwater, but if I can stand wading wet, that’s what I choose. I like to travel light and keep things as simple as possible.
Tending to Mending
I do need to do some wader repair. I own several pairs of different sorts, and a handful of them have leaks in one or both feet. At some point — probably this summer — I need to turn my them all inside out and fill them with water to find and repair the leaks and get rid of any pairs that are genuinely beyond repair.
I do own a few pairs of waders that I know don’t leak. None are my favorites, though. One is a fully neoprene pair with built-in boots. Beyond being a bit big for me, that pair is heavy and bulky — although less so than an insulated pair of duck hunting waders that also doesn’t have good traction for walking stream beds.
At the opposite end of the spectrum, some very old rubber waders have zero insulation value. They do keep me dry, but even without the tire patch from when I tore them many years ago, they are beyond ugly.
Soon our streams will reach a point where I can fish without waders, but in the meantime, I need to figure out which pair to wear next time I need some. I know it won’t be the pair I wore New Year’s morning!
An ice fishing equipment oversight led to a strange sensation and helpless feeling!
A slip on the ice after last weekend’s storm reminded me of one of the oddest sensations I’ve experienced while fishing (or otherwise). It occurred a little more than a decade ago on Presque Isle Bay in Pennsylvania.
I was there to ice fish with bass pro Dave Lefebre and a few outdoor writer friends. There was no snow on the ice, which was new and slick, so Dave had equipped us with strap-on cleats for our boots.
Overly eager to start fishing (as I tend to be), I’d forgotten to put on my cleats when we were gearing up at the truck for day 2 of our outing. One ambitious step onto the ice made my oversight obvious. I went straight into a dance, trying to maintain balance as my feet moved forward faster than my body. Somehow I stayed upright, but the momentum of the step, combined with the balance dance, propelled me several feet from the shore.
Then weird got weirder.
I realized quickly that with zero traction I couldn’t take a single step toward shore. Then the wind surged, blowing from the direction I wanted to move. My body became a sail, and I experienced the wild sensation of being pushed by the wind across the ice, opposite the direction I was trying to go.
No great consequence. Once I digested what was happening, I dropped to the ice by choice. Then I crawled back to the bank, and humbly returned to the truck to finish getting ready!
The fishing was good that morning, from what I recall, but I remember ice sailing far better than I remember the day’s ice fishing.
Just thinking aloud, so to speak, as we watch a big winter storm approach.
Daydreaming about summer fishing fun.
Off topic for this blog, I admit, except that the winter storm forecast has me daydreaming about wet wading creeks during summer! Like a lot of folks in a pretty vast area, I suppose, I’m watching the formation of what’s expected to be a dangerous and destructive winter storm, wondering what it will bring our way.
In Northeast Georgia, where I live, the big looming threat is freezing rain — lots of it — followed by strong winds. If that occurs, which seems more likely than not at this point, it could mean lots of downed trees and widespread power outages.
Thankfully, I work from home and have nowhere I need to be if our roads get ice glazed. And I’ve grabbed the camp stove from the basement and made the charcoal grill handy in case we need them. We’re fine with bundling up and waiting for a thaw, if we loose power.
We do have big trees around our house, which seem bigger than ever as the storm approaches. I’m very glad we had two trees that had died dropped a few months ago.
Rain isn’t supposed to get here until tomorrow afternoon, and won’t turn to wintery precipitation until tomorrow evening. So, there’s still hope the icy forecast will miss and we’ll just get a beautiful snow — or at least a mix of sleet to lessen the ice formation.
Looks like it will be nice tomorrow morning, before the storm arrives. Maybe I need to go fishing?!
The best catch isn’t always the species you are trying to fool!
One of my favorite fish I landed last year was a bonus catch on more ways than one.
I had spent the morning wading a small river, catching Bartrams bass, and had managed qualifying Bartrams catches for the Georgia Bass Slam. That had been my day’s objective, so the mission had been accomplished, but I decided to make a quick stop at a boardwalk at the edge of a nearby lake to see if I could catch a few bluegills or other panfish for photos.
I toted an light spinning outfit spooled with 4-pound-test line and rigged with tandem 1/64-ounce jigs and a box with a few spare jigs in my pocket.
The water there stays ultra clear, so you can see the cover and fish that are nearby. I’d spotted a few bluegill, but fewer than normal for that spot, and all were acting tentative.
One jumbo shellcracker had given my top jig a hard look and then fled to deep, shaded brush. I was jiggling my rig and watching carefully, hoping to coax the sunfish back, when a much larger fish — a largemouth bass — emerged from beneath the boardwalk, opened its big trap, and engulfed my tiny jig.
With a snap of my wrist, the fight was on, and I could tell I was way under-equipped. At first it was a battle just keeping the fish from surging into the brush. Even after I gained some measure of control, I knew there was zero chance I could lift the fish from the water with my light line. Eventually I was able to coax the bass close enough so I could lay flat on the boardwalk and reach to the water to grab the bass and land it.
After a few selfies I released the big bass and headed home without putting my jigs back in the water. With my morning mission accomplished and a big bonus bass added, it seemed like a fitting time to call it a successful fishing day.
If you’re looking for a place to bank fish for the day and like variety, Chattanooga warrants consideration.
Work travel earlier this week took me through Chattanooga. A couple of exploration stops, when combined with things I’ve found on previous trips, helped me realize that the Chattanooga area offers an amazing amount of shoreline fishing access. It’s an area I’m now eager to explore more with more dedicated fishing time at my disposal.
I should note up front that this post won’t be a detailed fishing guide. More so it’s reporting what I’m beginning to discover. I’ll detail more as I learn more, probably showing some of the access points in video form on the Fishing on Foot YouTube channel.
Chickamauga Lake & Tailwater
Tennessee River smallmouth bass
Although there are other fishing spots in the area, the main areas I’m taking about are toward the lower end of Chickamauga Lake and along the Tennessee River, downstream of the dam.
On the lake, Booker T Washington State Park and the Chickamauga Dam Day Use Area both offer extensive access for Fishing in Foot, and while they are near one another geographically, opportunities differ substantially.
The Bay, which is within the state park, is a dedicated fishing area, with a fishing pier and parking that’s handy to the pier, a riprap point that connects a big bay with a cove that’s off it and significant sections of shore along the bay and the cove.
Anglers I’ve seen on past visits to this park have been targeting crappie, but I have little doubt that at times it’s a good place to catch bass, bream and catfish.
The day use area at the dam again offers easy access to a long section of shore. The main difference is that it’s on the lake’s main body, instead of a creek or cove, and includes access to the riprap at the end of the dam.
Like the dams that create most Tennessee River impoundments, Chickamauga Dam has good access to riprap banks immediately below the dam and a fishing pier close to the dam. I knew that and had fished within sight of the dam before.
What I didn’t realize is that a park-like corridor of public access extends several miles below the dam with places to fish the river running through downtown. Included in the first few miles is what is officially called a “fishing park” and includes several fishing piers.
Big river tailwaters are almost like saltwater fisheries on terms of the variety of fish species and opportunities they provide. Any fish that bites could turn out to be one of many different kinds of fish, and the nature of the fishing varies enormously according to the season, the river level and which turbines are turning.
Blue catfish, smallmouth bass, crappie and white bass are some of the species most frequently sought beneath the dam.
Keep an eye on this blog and my YouTube channel for more on shoreline fishing around Chattanooga.
When you don’t know what a fishing day will hold, sometimes you have to tote a little bit of everything!
Tomorrow is a travel day, and part of my work plan is to do some bank fishing and shoot lure photos (hopefully some with lures on fish’s mouths). That sort of plan can make for tough car packing because I really don’t know what the day will end up looking like or how I’ll be fishing.
I have several idea for places I might stop. They differ notably in character and are diverse in their offerings, so I’m not sure of the lures I’ll end up using or even the size rod and reel, and all of that might change from stop to stop or even within any given stop.
Complicating things more, a few of tomorrow’s most likely stops are access points I’ve never actually visited, and they are big-river spots that vary dramatically in character based on the amount of water flowing.
What that means from a practical standpoint is that I’m toting a fair amount of fishing gear (along with the usual array of cameras and accessories) for what might not amount to a ton of actual fishing time. Some stuff, almost undoubtedly, will never leave the car hatch. I want it available, though, just in case.
Hoping my next post affirms that I packed the right stuff and includes catch photos and a success story.
Fishing on Foot 