Harrison chases smallmouth and largemouth bass in America.

Mention American bass fishing to anyone in Australia, and they probably think of fast glitzy boats, million-dollar competitions, and spin rods fished by anglers with big egos. That assertion is certainly fair, with expansive lakes and reservoirs capable of hosting hundreds of boats scattered throughout the continental United States. This stereotype of bass fishing could not be further from flyfishing tranquil trout streams, with dries drifting down a bubble-line.

However, as flyfishers know, there is much more to flyfishing than just trout, and that can apply to American bass fishing. Floating down a gin-clear stream shaded by tall trees, while sight fishing with a floating fly, is exactly what I encountered when I recently chased bass in the USA.

For those unfamiliar with American bass fishing, there are two main species of freshwater bass native to North America: the smallmouth and largemouth. Their range has been expanded across the continent through stocking efforts; however, it remains the case that largemouth bass extend further south into Mexico, while smallmouth extend further north into the Canadian province of Quebec. Throughout this range, there is overlap between species, and it is possible to catch both in the same watershed, though some systems remain exclusively one or the other. Both species are aggressive predators, willing to come up to the surface, and consuming everything from insects and smaller fish, to frogs and mice. Their accessibility – and willingness to eat an artificial – makes them an enjoyable fly rod target.

The seasons

Across the USA, bass are a year-round prospect, with no closed season – not even during their spawning period in the spring. There is a great degree of focus paid to the pre-spawn, spawn and post-spawn periods, as these different times influence the general behaviour of the bass. (The timing varies by state, as there is a great degree of weather variation as one goes from north to south.) During late winter and early spring, pre-spawn bass can aggressively feed as they seek to put on weight, while male bass also begin building circular nests.

As spawning begins, the female will come and lay eggs at a chosen male’s nest and depart after her eggs have been deposited. The male stays to guard the nest and parent the schooling fry after they have hatched. He will target any potential threats to the eggs or fry, making him an easy target for anglers.

Once large enough, the fry are left to fend for themselves as the males look to put back on the weight loss caused by the sacrifice of parenthood. By this time, the weather has warmed up coming into summer and topwater bite begins, although large streamers such as Game Changers still draw a great deal of attention.

Those who have fished for our local natives such as Murray cod and Australian bass, will find many similarities in the approach to target them. You can expect to find American bass in local lakes and dams, as well as scenic remote rivers. Although they might not grow as big as a Murray cod, they do grow larger than our bass, fight hard and can fight dirty around structure. And similar to chasing Australian natives, some sort of watercraft or boat is an advantage, but not always necessary.

One major difference between finding and accessing water in the USA compared to Australia is the amount of private property, coupled with more limited public access points. Although American landowners may be less open to allowing anglers onto their property, an Australian accent may be the key, as from my experience, they do get excited meeting an Aussie.

Oddly enough, my most recent bass fishing experience in the US began in New Zealand, meeting Alaska fishing guide and Virginia local, Ben West. Like me, Ben was seeking to tempt wary South Island brown trout. The conversation, as it goes between international anglers, drifted to our home waters, and it was Ben’s descriptions of clear Virginia streams filled with bass rather than trout, that really piqued my interest.

It took until May 2023 for me to finally make it over to Virginia as a part of my trip around North America. I drove from the airport to Ben’s place through sunlit rolling green hills and past centuries-old red brick towns. Virginia is one of the oldest US states, and arriving with no expectations, I was surprised how picturesque it was, with most towns feeling like a quaint movie set.

I got a big country hug from Ben on arrival, and the feeling he was excited to be showing me around – while also finding it hard to believe someone would travel all the way from Australia to rural Virginia to chase bass with him. Ben grilled up some marinated turkey breast strips from a bird he shot a few days earlier. We caught up on our lives and discussed the plan for the coming days. With three days of fishing set aside, and expecting most of the bass to be coming into the post-spawn phase, we decided to float a different river each day, while travelling no more than an hour from Ben’s place.

Raft drift

The first morning was clear and crisp as we donned light jumpers before loading into the truck, passing about two dozen whitetail deer feeding in the shadows cast across the sloping green paddocks of the countryside. Ben’s longtime friend Scott, with his shiny new fishing raft in tow, met us at the access point, leaving me and the raft behind as they ran the shuttle down to the pull-out point.

The medium/ large river reminded me a bit of the Goulburn around Seymour, however with a little more gradient and much better clarity. After some time alone on the side of the river waiting and wondering if I was going to live out a scene from Deliverance, the fellas returned. We began floating downriver with Ben on the oars as pseudo guide.

Scott wasn’t the keenest flyfisher, and started spinning with a heavily-weighted jig. I began fishing an articulated streamer on a floating line. For the first few hours, the bass wanted nothing to do with my streamer fished in tight to the bankside structure. They were apparently only interested in Scott’s jig hopping off the bottom. Eventually though, I caught my first smallmouth, a plucky fish around 30cm, to high fives all round.

The fishing improved into the afternoon as a storm approached, hit and passed all in the space of an hour. This activated the local frogs and in turn the bass, as we tied on rubber-legged Dahlberg Divers.

The real highlight was the mateship on the raft as we swapped stories, both related and not at all related to fishing. We ended the day in a local gas/service station converted into an Americana diner and craft beer store. The local staff thought an Australian such a novelty, they asked for photos with me.

Small stream kayaks

Day two was forecast to be hot and warm with clear skies, no breeze – and for a change the weatherman was spot on. The plan was to take two inflatable kayaks down a smaller stream chasing both small and largemouth bass. I left my tiny cheap-as-you-can-get rental car at the narrow pull-out point on the side of the road, jumping into Ben’s truck as we drove up the road to our put-in. The stream, smaller than expected, contained a mostly shallow white sand bottom, with gentle flows of gin-clear water.

Boarding our kayaks, we set off downstream under the shade of tall alder trees, hoping to find some bass. It didn’t take long. Fishing a deer hair Dahlberg, I was connecting with juvenile small and largemouth bass regularly as I cast close to the structure. On many occasions, I could see the bass in and around a snag before casting. I was able to watch them charge over to the fly, look at it for a short while, and then often take it immediately after the first or second strip. When that didn’t work, a mixture of short sharp strips between a long slow strip, would bring a take.

One of the better-quality bass taken on the day was a largemouth I spotted, clearly visible over the white sand bottom. It took some serious coaxing as it followed the fly from the moment it landed in front of it, almost to the rod tip, where it finally (and violently!) consumed the floating deer hair creation.

The fishing was consistent and spectacular throughout the day. We never saw another person, but we did watch a bald eagle fly over the water just ahead of us. And twice, on separate occasions, we caught three bass in three casts. Being a smaller system, the average size of the bass was not huge and with this in mind, the next day’s plan was to try a slightly larger stream with a reputation for good-sized smallmouth.

Last drift

Unfortunately, Ben was called into work so I would be fishing solo for my final session. However, he was still kind enough to shuttle me to an access point after leaving my little rental car at the pull-out. The plan was to float the kayak down this medium-sized tributary, before pulling out just below the confluence with the main river. The conditions were overcast and muggy, and the croaking frogs signalled the potential for rain. After two days of near non-stop bass fishing, I had developed some confidence. However, this was a much bigger river than the day before, with more colour and more flow. I set off downstream with two rods rigged to save time changing flies: one with a frog-coloured Dahlberg, and the other with an enormous white Game Changer.

Evidently there was something about the conditions this day, as the smallmouth were on fire from the get-go. They regularly hit my Dahlberg as I fished through an initial section of slower water. Over the course of the day, I worked out a pattern, thanks to how red-hot the fishing was. When I fished through the faster, turbulent water, the Game Changer was the best option. Perhaps it provided the bass with a large enough temptation to move across the current, whereas the smaller surface fly was possibly lost in the noise of the faster water.

However, when entering the slower stretches, the bite on the large pushy streamer slowed down or halted, yet the instant I swapped back to the Dahlberg, I would have success… until the water sped back up again.

To my surprise, almost all my best bass came in the fast water, rather than the deep, slow pools. There were some epic eats on my clearly visible white streamer as the smallmouth hunted it down from all angles. The day’s highlight was a near trophy bass which I saw appear behind the Game Changer as I stripped it between a series of submerged boulders. When the bass disappeared, I gave the fly an aggressive strip followed by another, before ‘killing’ the fly and letting it drift naturally in the current. Very visible, the white fly drifted for almost two seconds before the smallmouth returned, apparently appreciating the seemingly helpless prey, which it completely inhaled. A hectic 5 minute battle ensued as I struggled to wrestle the fish away from the boulders with my bent-to-the-cork 8 weight. Unlike our southern Australian natives, bass here jump, and even after leading the fish into a calm pocket, a few final jumps had me nervous before I managed to slide the net under the fish.

Eats like this happened on multiple occasions throughout the day, with the ferocity of the takes something I still think about every time I see a white streamer.

I eventually pulled the kayak out and returned to Ben’s place, happy but dead tired with sore arms from fishing and paddling. I shared my stories over a home-cooked dinner; something I had been missing after almost 3 months of travelling.

Out of all the places I visited during my travels, my time in Virginia had to be some of the best. Many people in Australia may never have heard of anyone flyfishing in this part of the world. However, the quality of the fishing, coupled with the hospitality of the locals who are proud to show off their state to the rare international traveller, creates a special experience.

FLYSTREAM FACTS – Rods and lines

An 8 weight matched with a short tapered floating line will cover most flyfishing situations, allowing the easy turnover of oversized topwater flies and streamers.

For smaller streams casting less wind-resistant flies, there is room to drop down to a 6 or 7 weight, while on larger bodies of water with XXXL flies, it makes sense to rig up a 9 or even 10 weight.